Chapter Forty-Six
When Dorothea returned home from the village, the butler informed her that her sister was waiting for her in the drawing room. She hurried in, smiling broadly.
“Dearest. You have come down at last,” she cried with delight. “I am so pleased.” She reached to give her sister a hug, but Charlotte firmly pushed her away. “Charlotte—what do you mean by this? Are you unwell?” Dorothea asked, a puzzled expression on her face.
“In body and health, I am very well,” Charlotte replied. “In heart and spirit, no. Why did you tell Frederick Morton you would not take back the five thousand pounds you added to my dowry?”
Dorothea gave an indulgent smile and calmly went to the bell pull to call a servant. When a footman arrived, she ordered lemonade. Then, she took a seat and looked up at Charlotte.
“Oh. That,” she said.
“Yes—that,” Charlotte said in a trembling voice. “He came to refuse the five thousand so that you and I would be assured he is no fortune hunter. But, you turned him down and sent him away. Why?”
Dorothea gave a little laugh. “Do sit down, Charlotte. I shall explain it all.” She waited until both were seated before she continued, “First of all, how do you know of his request? Has he been here again? Have you seen him?”
“No. After you and Reginald left for the day, I went for a walk and Frederick’s brother came upon me in the garden.
Mr. Morton’s express purpose in calling was to convince me of his brother’s sincere love for me.
And, I believe any man who would turn down a small fortune is sincere in his affections.
Frederick wants me for me alone and not the money.
So, tell me—why did you refuse his request? ”
“Because I do not wish you to marry him, of course. Marry a rector?” She rolled her eyes. “Such an alliance is quite beneath you.”
“He is a gentleman and I am a gentleman’s daughter. We are entirely equal, and there should be no impediment to our union.”
“You may be equals, but he is not a gentleman of much worth or consequence. There are still two other gentlemen who wish to renew their addresses to you who have land to bring with an offer of marriage. Far better for you to end up with a fine home and property than living in the cramped cottage of Clayton Parish.”
The door opened and a servant entered with a tray holding two glasses of lemonade and a plate of sugar biscuits. The two sisters sat silently until everything was set up and they were alone once more. Dorothea opened her mouth to speak, but Charlotte cut her off.
“I know you wish to see me in a fine house with many servants, but that is for me to decide, Dorothea. I do not love Mr. Shelby or Mr. Cartwright. I love Frederick.”
Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Just a few days ago you swore never to see him again. It is clear to me that you do not know your own heart, and it is my prerogative and duty as your sister to guide you in these matters. I shall do my best to steer you to a man of good fortune. I did not work so hard this summer only to see you matched with a rector and suffer the derisive laughter of the other ladies of the county.”
Charlotte shook her head in disbelief. “Lavinia is right. You are a snob. You would sell me off for five thousand pounds for the sake of your own reputation.”
“I simply wish you to be happily settled, dear one.”
“Yes, but it is abundantly clear to me that you do not care whether I am actually happy.” Charlotte set her glass down and rose. “I am returning to Clayton House as soon as may be. I see now that I have allowed far too many people to influence me. But no longer.”
Dorothea stood, a determined look on her face. “Indeed? Should you marry Mr. Frederick Morton, I assure you the five thousand from Reginald will be removed. You and your husband’s life together will be one of near poverty.”
“Have you even been listening to me, Sister? This is not about money. Give it to me, keep it for yourselves, or put it in the church poor box for all I care. I only wish to finally make a choice of my own that will secure my future happiness. Dorothea, I love you, and I thank you for all you have done for me this summer, but I must follow my mind and my heart—for in the end it is my life, and not yours, that matters.”
Charlotte hurried from the room and ran upstairs where she rang the bell for Becca.
When the girl arrived, Charlotte announced she hoped to depart in the morning and instructed the girl to pack all her belongings.
Becca bobbed a curtsy and moved to retrieve the trunks from the attic. Charlotte called her back.
“And Becca—you said you wished to come with me, so should that still be your desire, pack your own bag as well.”
Then, Charlotte donned her Spencer and opened her art kit. Rummaging through it, she pulled out a sheet of paper, rolled it tightly, then rushed out of the room and hurried to the stables.
*
Charlotte arrived at Brentwood estate on Nessie. She dismounted and rang the front bell. She was trembling, but certain of her course. Millard answered the door, a slight raise of his eyebrows the sole hint of his surprise to see her.
“Good afternoon, Millard,” Charlotte said. “I wish to see Mr. Frederick Morton, please.”
“Very well, Miss Kendall. I shall inform him of your presence. Allow me to show you to the drawing room.” He escorted her to the room Charlotte recalled so well from her one dinner at the manor that summer. She took a seat and waited, clutching the rolled-up paper on her lap.
A few minutes later, Frederick entered. He bowed and said, “Miss Kendall, I am pleased to see you. I hope you are well.” His manner was stiff and, Charlotte thought, apprehensive.
Charlotte stood, gave a small curtsy. “I am very well, Mr. Morton,” she replied. “In fact, I believe, at present, I am as well as I have ever been. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Not at all. Pray, be seated.” He took a chair across from her and perched gingerly on the edge. “How may I assist you?”
Charlotte blinked. “Oh, dear,” she said, with a bit of a start. “I was so determined to see you and yet I had not clearly thought out what I would say. Let me begin by telling you that I saw you arrive at Haverstone the other day.”
“Yes. I had hoped to speak to both Lord and Lady Gillingham, but only your sister was at home.”
“She told me of your request—and her refusal. I was quite surprised to learn of it.”
“I hoped it might change her mind about my suitability as—well, your sister wants what is best for you. I am afraid she does not think that could be me.”
“I am aware of that. Mr. Morton, I do not know whether you know that my mother died giving birth to me. Dorothea has seen herself both as a sister and a mother to me, and I am afraid sometimes she still wishes to control my life as a parent would. I realize now that I have been too easily led by her and far too often.” She took a deep breath.
“For example, it was by her persuasion that I allowed myself to think that you wished to marry me just for the large dowry you would receive. Now that I am aware you have refused it, I see just how mistaken I was in judging your character. I apologize for not trusting you, and I beg your forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I require no apology, Miss Kendall. I am simply happy that you know the truth.”
Charlotte gave a bitter laugh. “The truth, yes. So much heartache could have been avoided had the truth been spoken much earlier. Had my sister told me she and Lord Gillingham had secretly increased my dowry when I first arrived here in May. Had I but known that was the true reason behind so many suitors calling on me this summer.”
“Had my brother told me the truth about Brentwood’s financial difficulties and his designs upon your fortune,” Frederick added, “I would have warned you. I would not have let your heart be so wounded.”
“Yes, but instead, I allowed Dorothea to convince me you were just as avaricious as he. Had I known the truth, I would not have doubted your admiration, or had cause to write you and refuse…your offer.”
Frederick crossed to Charlotte and sat beside her. “Oh, Miss Kendall—Charlotte—is there still hope for me, then? You do not doubt any longer? For I assure you my affections and feelings toward you are unchanged.”
Charlotte took the paper from her lap and handed it to him. “Perhaps this will provide the answer for you.”
He cautiously unrolled the paper to see a charcoal portrait of himself. “When did you draw this?”
“That day I saw you arrive at Haverstone and then depart so quickly. You paused at the carriage door awhile and looked up. Seeing your face, I realized how deep my affection was for you, despite my firm conviction that I was right to refuse you. I suddenly felt compelled to attempt a drawing of you. I thought I would hide it away and perhaps gaze on it when I was an old lady so that I could remember my one great love.” She cocked her head at the drawing.
“I do not think I captured your eyes quite correctly, though at least you do not resemble a baboon. But, remember, you had just recently begun to teach me how to draw portraits.”
Frederick laughed. “If you will have me, Charlotte, I shall gladly give you as many drawing lessons as you like.” He set the paper aside and took her hands, lifting them to kiss. “Will you have me, dearest one? Will you agree to marry me and end this torture?”
Charlotte nodded. “I shall.”
He leaned in to kiss her when the door flew open and a squeal was heard.
“Oh, Freddy! How marvelous. How divine. You have found love at last.” Phoebe burst into the room.
“Pray, excuse me for listening to your private discourse, but I could not help myself, I truly could not. When Millard told me who was here and that the two of you were alone, well—I said to myself, I said, ‘Phoebe, a proposal is in the offing, I am convinced of it.’ So, I bent at the keyhole to listen.” Her expression became thoughtful for a moment.
“Gracious, it was not a comfortable position to stand so, I must say. I am excessively glad it did not take you any longer to ask her, Freddy. But, any discomfort was well worth it to hear such a loving and sweet proposal. Oh, Freddy, pray, introduce me?”
She stood, hands clasped and bouncing on her feet with delight as she looked at Charlotte. Frederick opened his mouth to speak but another voice broke in.
“Miss Kendall, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Phoebe Morton.” Robert strode into the room and put an arm around his Phoebe’s waist, pulling her tight. “Forgive her exuberance. I had confided to her last night my hopes of convincing you to give my brother another chance.”
“And she did—she did, dearest. Is it not thrilling? Is it not romantic? Such a wedding we shall see. Oh, the flowers, the dress, and the wedding breakfast. It will all be elegant and proper. Not at all like our spontaneous anvil wedding.” She turned her attention back to Charlotte, speaking at a rapid clip.
“We eloped to Gretna Green, you know. We simply could not wait to wed and snuck away from my aunt to do the deed. And, I do not regret it for a moment—not a single moment, I assure you. I could not be happier. I can most assuredly wish the same joy for you, my soon-to-be sister. Sister—how divine that sounds. Oh, please promise you will allow me to help you find the perfect fabric for your wedding gown. I know all the best warehouses in London, you may rely on it.”
Charlotte could think of no manner in which to reply to the barrage of words that came at her. Frederick lifted Charlotte’s hand to his lips again. His eyes were dancing with amusement. “Welcome to the family, dearest,” he said with a chuckle.
Charlotte tried to smother a giggle but was unsuccessful.
Soon, she was laughing uncontrollably in delight and relief with Frederick joining in.
Then, Robert and Phoebe added their laughter.
The uproarious and raucous noise prompted Millard to appear at the door with a concerned expression.
Seeing him, Robert ordered some excellent wine brought in, after which he made the first of what were many toasts that afternoon to the happy couple.