Chapter Forty-Seven
The next morning, a grand carriage bearing the Morton family crest drove into the sweep at Haverstone.
Charlotte was already waiting and after a brusque goodbye to her family, she joined her fiancé for the journey back to Clayton House.
Becca came as well, acting as chaperone.
Along the way, Charlotte and Frederick held hands and spoke of their hopes and dreams for their future together, sneaking kisses now and then.
Their demonstration of affection was such that at one point Becca rolled her eyes and commented that the wedding had best be conducted with haste since it was clear the two would not easily be able to withstand each other’s charms for much longer.
In the past, Charlotte might have found the comment shocking or rude, but her heart was so filled with happiness, she merely laughed.
When they reached Clayton House, Charlotte’s entire family came out to welcome them with such expressions of joy that Charlotte knew yet again she had made the correct decision in accepting Frederick.
Aside from Dorothea, everyone appeared as happy, if not more so, as she was with the coming wedding.
Her father pulled her aside and assured her that her dowry would be invested safely to add to her family budget, and he vowed to increase Frederick’s salary once they had children.
As plans for the wedding came together, Charlotte had but one regret: that things were still unsettled between her and her sister.
Three letters to Dorothea had gone unanswered.
A wedding invitation was sent to Haverstone, but Charlotte did not expect a reply or to see her sister’s family attend.
It was the only sad part of the otherwise joyous planning.
Despite Phoebe’s offer to have the wedding on Brentwood estate, both Frederick and Charlotte agreed that they would be happiest to have it at Clayton Parish.
Charlotte and Lavinia met Phoebe in London and together found the perfect fabric for the wedding dress and lace for a veil.
Phoebe told them that Robert had insisted on paying for it all as his gift and would not take “no” for an answer.
Charlotte graciously accepted, knowing it was both another apology from Robert, as well as a thank you for helping heal the breach between the brothers.
The three ladies had a wonderful time, although on the return trip home, Lavinia confided she found Phoebe’s near constant chatter a “bit of an ordeal.”
“I am glad we are not sharing a carriage with Mrs. Morton out of London, my dear. Heavens, the girl scarce draws breath in her constant discourse. I do not know how her husband can bear it. Well, that is what comes for marrying solely for looks, you know,” she said smugly, “instead of finding a good pairing based upon compatible dispositions as you and I have.”
Knowing Robert had married Phoebe not for her looks or conversation but for her money, Charlotte merely nodded.
Perhaps if Phoebe gave Robert sons he would find himself spending more time at Brentwood in the future.
She hoped so. Phoebe may be a silly chit, but she was goodhearted and did not deserve to be left alone while her husband found entertainment elsewhere.
*
On her wedding day, Charlotte found herself oddly calm.
She had thought she would be all nerves, but instead, she felt relaxed and at peace as Becca helped her into her beautiful new gown and styled her hair to make the most of its thick beauty.
As she walked downstairs, her father, Lavinia and Miles, and Gilbert, who had arrived at Clayton House the previous night, stood below, with clear expressions of love and admiration on their faces.
Gilbert stepped forward and kissed his sister as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “I am so happy for you, dear sister.”
“I knew that lace would prove becoming to you,” Lavinia said. “I am so glad we bought it. Is it not simply perfect, Miles?”
He nodded in agreement. “You look lovely, doesn’t she, Father?”
“Indeed. You make a most beautiful bride, my dear,” Evan said.
Charlotte found herself waiting to hear him add that “of course, she would never be as handsome as her mother” but no such statement was forthcoming.
Perhaps she truly was beautiful today. Her hand reached up to touch the fine gold necklace around her neck that once had been her mother’s.
Her father had given it to her last night.
In a way, the mother she never knew was with her now, Charlotte felt.
“Thank you, Father,” she said. “Shall we go? I do not wish to keep Frederick waiting.”
Evan nodded and turned, not to the front door, but down the hall. Following his gaze, Charlotte saw Dorothea, Reginald, and Lucy all enter the hall from the drawing room, dressed in their finest.
Charlotte burst into happy tears. “Oh, Sister—you came. You are all here.”
The two embraced, Dorothea careful not to crush Charlotte’s dress.
“Now, now—no tears, dear heart. I cannot have you standing up there at the altar with red eyes and nose, for pity’s sake.” She dug into her reticule for a handkerchief and pushed it into Charlotte’s hand, who dabbed her eyes, laughing.
Handing the handkerchief back, Charlotte said softly, “Thank you. It would not have been the wedding of my expectations without you all here.”
Reginald laughed. “You can thank your niece for our presence, Charlotte. When Lucy saw the invitation and learned that her mother did not plan to attend, she promptly refused to eat until minds were changed.”
Charlotte looked with astonishment at her niece, who stood grinning back at her.
Dorothea’s face burned red, and she muttered, “Well, it was not necessary for Lucy to take such drastic steps—I was already leaning toward being here. How could I not attend the most important day in my beloved little sister’s life?
” She hugged Charlotte again and whispered, “I am endeavoring to be a little less of a snob. I hope you will forgive me.”
Unable to trust her voice, Charlotte nodded.
“Come, come—enough of this foolishness. We have a wedding to attend,” Evan exclaimed, motioning everyone to the door and the waiting carriages outside.
*
When they returned from a honeymoon trip to the Lake District, Charlotte and Frederick settled happily into the parsonage and started their new life together.
They hired a good cook, a maid of all work, and Becca finally realized her dream of being a true lady’s maid, even if it was not in a grand manor.
Charlotte and Frederick spent their evenings together in the drawing room, reading or playing music—that is, when they were not dining at Clayton House, which was as often as three times a week.
Charlotte continually marveled at her good fortune.
A mere eight months prior, she had had no intention or inclination to marry.
Yet now, she found herself with a loving husband and situated in close proximation to her dear family in a newly renovated cottage that she, herself, had helped improve.
Everything was to her taste, and she could not imagine a cozier home.
And, on the wall in the drawing room hung two portraits: Frederick’s watercolor of Charlotte, and Charlotte’s charcoal sketch of Frederick—with the eyes now expertly fixed.
The End