Chapter Fourteen
When Charlotte came downstairs that evening, she found her brother-in-law, Reginald, in the drawing room.
He stood by the mantel, cradling a glass of whiskey in one hand, which he raised in silent greeting to her as she entered.
Charlotte knew him to be a taciturn sort of man, but he was loving to her sister, and she had always held his opinion in high regard, so she took no offense at his casual greeting. She crossed over to him, smiling.
“Good evening, Brother. I expected to see Dorothea here by now.”
Reginald smiled apologetically. “She will join us presently. However, our daughter had a difficult day and demanded her mother read to her before she would agree to go to bed.”
“Poor little Lucy—is she unwell?”
“She does not seem to have any ailment—certainly nothing we should call the physician for.” He grinned and motioned for Charlotte to take a chair as he claimed one for himself.
“Should I make a guess, her ‘illness’ stems mostly from the lack of attention from her mother of late. Dorothea has been so devoted to your visit and finding you a potential suitor that she has not been as available to our daughter as she usually is. Lucy will be fine, do not worry.”
“I am so sorry to be the cause of my niece’s pain.
Much as I love it here, I should be happy to depart Haverstone and return to Clayton House tomorrow, thereby taking the burden off of my sister,” Charlotte said grimly.
“I am putting up with the marriage game simply for her sake and because my father ordered me here.” She sighed.
“Truly, Reginald, despite the recent visits by certain gentlemen, I believe myself utterly unmarriageable with my small dowry, minimal looks, and accomplishments. I am well aware that men of good fortune also wish to marry a lady with prosperous finances, which I certainly lack. My finest asset appears to be the fact that I am related to you, but Dorothea can only do so much, after all. I had much better leave and resign myself to remaining on the shelf.”
“You are but twenty, correct? Far too young for that fate. You underestimate yourself, dear girl—you are not plain in the least and have many charms.” He smiled briefly before his countenance turned serious.
“But, please, do not take my wife’s efforts on your behalf so lightly.
It is a very serious business.” He cocked his head and studied her before continuing, “You cannot be ignorant of the fate of women who never marry, can you? You seem all but resigned to it, yet tell me—what would such a solitary life be, do you think?”
Charlotte heaved another sigh. Avoiding his gaze, she replied, “Well. Would it be so truly dreadful for me to simply share my time between Clayton House and here? I would be so content to spend my days painting, riding, helping Dorothea with her charity work, and lavishing love upon my ‘neglected’ niece.”
Reginald leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and shaking his head.
“While you are and will forever be welcome here, Charlotte, an unmarried woman is always somewhat…suspect in a household. You would become an object of pity and curiosity in the neighborhood. And, independence does not come easily for such women. Your financial options would certainly be limited. You cannot inherit from your father, and although there may be some small settlement made upon you, it would not be enough to maintain you—not by half. Your clothes, your papers and watercolors, everything you desire would have to come as a gift from us or Miles and Lavinia. Even Gilbert might feel obligated to spend his hard earned money as a curate or rector on you—money he could likely ill afford. How enjoyable would that be for you to go begging to them every time a new book or bonnet struck your fancy?”
“I could earn my own money, as Gilbert may,” Charlotte said in a defensive tone.
Reginald raised his eyebrows. “Oh? How, precisely? By selling your paintings? Even by your own admission, they are just fair. Or do you plan to work as a governess? Can you honestly see yourself chained to the nursery, teaching Lavinia’s children someday?
Or worse, be a governess in a stranger’s house where you would certainly be treated more as a servant than family.
Even being a paid companion would have you at someone’s beck and call at all times.
And, I am sure, you realize you simply cannot live alone.
” He gave her a sad smile. “It pains me to tell you this, dear Sister, but yours—and every young lady’s future happiness—rests upon making a good marriage so that you may have a home of your own.
Most young women dream of it. It rather astonishes me that you do not.
But, let me assure you, you need to take serious consideration of your future.
Life as a single woman is very difficult and often fraught with poverty.
I do not say any of this to scold or scare you, but from what I have observed, you are not thinking of your future.
So, I feel I must open your eyes to the reality of your situation.
Once a young lady comes out into society, she has but one duty—to find a suitable match and secure matrimony.
” He sat back and took a long sip of his whiskey.
“Now, perhaps, you will have a little more faith in Dorothea’s strategy.
I assure you—if you will but follow her lead, you will certainly end up happier than perhaps you think you might be on the shelf. ”
Charlotte sat with her eyes downcast, considering his words.
He had not been harsh, yet she felt like bursting into tears.
His advice had been clear and to the point and was the very last thing she wished to think on just now.
But, she found she could not brush aside his words.
Slowly, a feeling of shame crept over her—shame for not fully appreciating all that her sister and Reginald were doing for her.
Shame for not making more of an effort. Was she truly so thoughtless and ignorant?
She felt like a child, being scolded for bad manners at the table.
Still, she could think of no reply and fortunately the mood was broken by Dorothea entering the room.
“Gracious—it took two chapters and a song before Lucy would let me go. Have our guests arrived yet?”
“No, but they should be here any minute. It is nearly half-six,” Reginald said, rising and crossing to his wife to kiss her. “You look beautiful, Dorothea.”
“Oh, dearest, you are too sweet. An almost thirty-year-old married lady such as myself should give over thinking of her own beauty when there is one much younger and prettier in the room.” She turned and smiled at Charlotte.
“Yes, the white and gold was absolutely the right choice for tonight, my dear. You look divine. I am certain Mr. Morton will be entranced.”
Charlotte nodded, unsure for a moment that she could reply with a voice that would not betray her emotions.
She swallowed, then forced a smile. “We shall see, but I do hope so, Dorothea. I wish to thank you—and you as well, Reginald—for all you have done and continue to do for me. I shall try my best not to disappoint you.”
Dorothea gave Charlotte a curious look and opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened, and Dawson announced their guests.
*
As expected, Mr. Robert Morton was once again seated at Dorothea’s right, while Frederick was seated farther down the table, closer to Reginald.
Unlike last time, when Charlotte sat across from him, she was placed on Robert’s right this evening.
Dorothea had tut-tutted over the seating as they took their places, apologizing sweetly for the unbalance in numbers.
“Once again, we are not even in partners. I wouldn’t have minded had you asked to bring a gentle lady of good breeding with you, Mr. Frederick. Then, we would not be so awkwardly situated.”
“I have no such lady to invite, Lady Gillingham, and I certainly would never presume to do so,” he replied, gently. “Perhaps I should have simply remained at Brentwood this evening.”
“No!” blurted Charlotte. Everyone turned to stare at her.
After an awkward pause, she laughed a bit and added, “This is just a family dinner, after all, not anything fancy with endless courses. Our seating is nothing to be concerned about, Dorothea. The Mortons are your neighbors, and I am sure we need not worry about such strict formalities.”
She caught a grateful expression on Frederick’s countenance and wished she were sitting next to him.
She would prefer not to have to focus all her attention on the older, wealthier brother.
But, Reginald’s lecture had taken root. She nodded slightly to Frederick and then turned her attention to Robert as the first course was served.
“How go the crops on your estate, Mr. Morton? I believe I overheard Reginald speaking of the lack of rain as a worry.”
He looked at her and she saw amusement in his eyes. “Yes, it is a small concern. But, tell me—is that the sort of thing young ladies are interested in these days? I confess, I find myself both flattered and somewhat astonished at your choice of subject matter.”
Charlotte felt a blush creep up her throat and dropped her gaze.
“Well, every gentleman who owns land must spend considerable time thinking about such things, does he not?” Why did she feel annoyed?
He had not been rude. “Should you prefer me to ask your opinion on the newest fashions or what ribbons might complement my complexion best you have but to speak and I shall change the topic most readily,” she replied tartly, turning her attention back to her soup.
To her surprise, he laughed softly. “I would scarce hold myself an expert in such things, Miss Kendall. Not simply because I am an unmarried man with no sisters and quite uneducated in these regards, but also because I can see before me a picture of beauty that requires no alteration whatsoever.”
His unexpected compliment made Charlotte nearly choke on a spoonful of soup. As she coughed and brought her napkin to her lips, she glanced at her sister. Dorothea wore an expression of pure satisfaction.
*
That night in her room, Charlotte sat up late, replaying the evening’s events.
She found herself quite puzzled by Mr. Morton’s more agreeable behavior.
He had never been so charming and amiable at previous encounters.
Tonight, he had complimented her dress, her performance on the pianoforte, and even mentioned knowing of her interest in painting and expressed a wish to someday see some of her sketches.
Yet, unlike Mr. Wincock and Mr. Cartwright, he was not so effusive in his praise as to make her uncomfortable.
His compliments were appropriate and measured and, although unexpected, they felt… sincere.
It had been a pleasant evening overall, and she hoped her sister noticed her effort to be charming.
She paid most of her attention to Robert and was unable to speak at length with Frederick, even when the gentlemen joined her and Dorothea in the drawing room after dinner.
Their longest encounter came when, as a capable music reader, he had offered to turn the pages for her when she played.
Then, while sifting through the music, he leaned in and murmured that he was looking forward to their painting lesson on Tuesday.
She had nodded her assent. Then, Reginald had called Frederick over to discuss a new book he had ordered.
Robert had moved to replace his brother at the piano, saying he would be happy to turn pages, though Charlotte would have to nod to tell him when to do so as his musical abilities were minimal.
And there he stayed for the next twenty minutes, trying to turn the pages on her cues and praising her skill.
She found herself pleased and flattered at his gentlemanly behavior.
And yet, she was still puzzled. Such a change in his behavior made her wonder—was she seeing the true Mr. Morton now?
Although her initial preference had been for the younger brother, Mr. Robert Morton might not be the rude beast she had initially thought. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge the gentleman and her prejudice had prevented her from seeing him clearly.
Charlotte climbed into bed still thinking over how amiable his company had been.
Was she wrong to think he had enjoyed her company as well?
Or that his manner toward her was sincere?
After all, he had no need to show any admiration of her beyond what courtesy demanded—she had no fortune to tempt him, even if he needed one, which he clearly did not.
He must truly admire her—at least a little.
She gave herself a little shake.
Heavens, I must not let my imagination run away with me.
I shall be as bad as Dorothea, ordering the wedding clothes after one pleasant evening with Mr. Morton.
Most likely he still feels guilty over the riding incident and is merely trying to make amends as a good neighbor should and nothing more.
I must not get my expectations up for anything further—it clearly would be too foolish.
Vowing to put the man out of her mind as a prospective match, Charlotte leaned over, blew out the candle, and soon fell asleep.