40. In which there is a happy day and a Rogue
IN WHICH THERE IS A HAPPY DAY AND A ROGUE
The day had finally arrived.
Charlotte sat up in bed in Amery House, her heart aflutter and cheeks already aching from smiling. The morning sunlight spilled through the gaps in the curtains, and Marjorie stretched out, avoiding Satan, who was curled up on his very own pillow at the foot of the bed.
Oh, the bed. It was marvellous to have such luxury again after two years of hardship. Charlotte would never again complain about…well, anything at all.
The tap-tap of Alma’s bustling footsteps drew nearer, and then came a knock at the bedroom door.
“Mistress? It is the day!”
Charlotte chuckled to herself. Alma had been ever so suspicious of Arnold when they had arrived back in Havenport a little under two weeks ago.
But the housekeeper had been won over. Arnold had been under strict instructions to be his most charming self, and he had done wonderfully well, showering both her and Alma with flowers and boxes of chocolates.
Charlotte hurried to open the door. “It is the day!”
Alma had her undergarments pressed and folded over an arm, but the dress was hanging in the wardrobe.
Charlotte danced over and brought out the gown.
It was not white, or even ivory, much to her mother’s shock, but a dusky gold.
Her mother had tried to sway her into a more appropriate dress for a second wedding, but Charlotte would have none of it once she’d seen the fabric in the dressmaker’s shop.
“It’s very bold, mistress. It suits you,” Alma said.
Charlotte smiled. It did suit her. Ever so well. “Why, thank you, Alma. I rather think it does too.”
The dress had puffed sleeves to her elbows, a ruched corset-style bodice, and a full skirt. Charlotte hopped from foot to foot. “I cannot wait to put it on!”
Alma laid the undergarments on the bed, and Charlotte stepped out of her nightdress, running her fingers over the fine lace and silk chemise. “This is not mine. Where did this come from? And why is it so scandalously short and low cut about the neckline?”
Alma did her best to hide a smile. “Captain Hester sent it for you. She insisted you wore it for your wedding day.”
Charlotte should have known. “It’s very beautiful.” She smiled a secret smile. “I suppose I shall wear it, if Hester sent it.” She stepped into the chemise, Alma helped with the corset, and then she donned her dressing robe. Where was Hester, anyway? She should have been with her by now.
There was a loud banging at the door downstairs, and the bell rang and rang.
Charlotte laughed. “That must be her.” She dashed from the room, racing down the staircase and the hallway to the front door and hauled it open. Marjorie, Hercules and Samson skidded to the door to greet Snowball and Sooty.
Hester crashed into Charlotte. “Happy day! And a finer one you couldn’t have wished for. Not a cloud in the sky, and unseasonably warm for November.” When she drew back from the embrace, Hester had a devilish grin on her face.
Charlotte laughed. “This is your doing?”
Hester winked.
“Come!” Charlotte ushered her inside. “Have breakfast with me, and then we can get dressed.”
Charlotte led the way to the dining room and the pair sat at the mahogany table. Hester took a slice of toast from the rack, slathering butter and jam onto it and eating it in four bites. “Do you think you’ll ever get enough of bread?”
“I don’t believe so, no. Alma cannot believe how much we’re getting through. And scones, and vegetables, and eggs. I cannot abide to eat red meat or fish though. I can stomach chicken, but nothing else.”
“Septimus is not so fussy. He’ll eat anything that sits still for too long.” Hester paused, and then chuckled darkly, in a way that Charlotte could not fathom. “What time are the others arriving?”
“Ten O’clock. We have some time.” In the days they had been home, it was unusual for Charlotte not to have at least two of the crew call at Amery House.
They were taking some time to adjust to life without living in each other’s pockets, that was for certain.
She almost wished they would all come and live here with her.
But they would be with her soon, to escort her to church, barring Winston, who was Arnold’s best man.
Alma bustled into the room and set a parcel on the table. “This just arrived for you, mistress.”
Charlotte frowned. It was too early for the postman. She turned the parcel over and read the words ‘To my darling future wife. I hope you like them’.
Charlotte tore at the brown paper, and a sheaf of papers fell into her lap.
What was this? She picked the top piece of paper up.
It was a photograph of the Southern Lights, with her standing in the foreground, the sparkling ice and stars spreading out beyond her.
She clapped a hand to her mouth, and then stood out of her chair, pushing the breakfast things back and spreading the dozen photographs out on the table.
“Arnold’s photographs. Well, the ones that he saved. You should have seen him diving into the wreck for the plates. Mad,” Hester said through a mouthful of toast.
Had he really done that? She’d had no idea.
Charlotte marvelled at the images laid in front of her.
Every single photo, even the earliest ones, had her in it.
Hester had chosen the dress she was to wear.
She ran the sage green fabric through her hands, admiring the way the light fell on it.
It brought out her eyes beautifully and was as far from those disgustingly frilly bridesmaid dresses as possible.
She held onto the bedpost with Charlotte fastening the corset.
“Not too tight. Ouch. Stop,” Hester whined. She hated corsets. But she’d wear it for this dress.
“You’re a very whiney bridesmaid.”
Bridesmaid, indeed. “Best woman.”
Charlotte snorted a laugh. “Fine, best woman.”
“Because I am the best woman.”
“Of course you are.” Charlotte was grinning. Hester couldn’t fathom why.
“Do you know who doesn’t think I’m the best woman, though?”
“Go on.”
“Septimus’s mother.” The old bag was perfectly vile.
Charlotte’s mouth curved into a smile. “She doesn’t approve of the match?”
“I heard her screeching at him yesterday morning. That I am not the fine lady she had wanted for her darling boy. She’s also spitting feathers that not only did I win the Valour from her cur of a brother, but that I left her at the bottom of the Weddell Sea.”
“The same can only be said for her son. He also left his ship at the bottom of the sea.”
“Oh but you see, she says that was all my fault. That it wouldn’t have happened had I not been there.” Hester paused. Actually, it probably wouldn’t have. Maybe the woman had a point.
“Well, does Septimus pay any heed to what she thinks?”
“Happily, no. He is still desperately in love with me.” Although he was yet to propose.
Not that she cared. She definitely didn’t care.
Not as she gazed at Charlotte’s beautiful golden gown, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger, the wedding slippers, the way her hair was coiled and arranged neatly up on her head, the pretty pearl bracelet she wore.
She didn’t need any of that. It was frivolous nonsense.
And yet…
It wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of opportunity to get down on one knee.
The last night of the voyage back to Britain, when the sunset blazed and it was only the two of them on deck.
The fancy dinner he’d taken her to last night, with the wine list and the nine courses of tiny plates.
The quiet mornings lazing in bed in a post-coital haze, with the light streaming through the French doors of the bedroom, when she knew she looked divine.
He could have asked her any time. What on Earth was he waiting for?
She chewed the inside of her lip and hoped he wasn’t waiting for his mother’s approval.
Fliss had said she should ask him herself, but Hester wouldn’t stand for that.
“Whatever are you brooding about, with that scowl on your face?” Charlotte asked, with one final pull of the corset that had Hester’s breath rushing out of her.
Hester studied her ring finger, raising an eyebrow pointedly.
“Ah. He’ll ask. I know he will. Perhaps he is saving for a ring?”
“Are you joking? He has more money than he knows what to do with.” It had been eye opening, seeing him buy things without counting out the coins, and showering her with gifts.
“Well, is there really any hurry?”
“No, it is more the principle of the thing. Anyway. He can ask me, or he can find someone else to warm his bed. And he will find no one so skilled in that arena as I.” She was damn sure of that.
“Speaking of which…” Charlotte clasped her hands before her, in that way Hester had learnt meant she was nervous. “Tonight. I…Well. I hardly know how to ask—”
Finally. Charlotte was finally asking her.
She sucked in a breath through her teeth.
“I thought you would never ask! The wedding night.” Hester hopped from one foot to the other, clapping her hands.
She led Charlotte over to the edge of the bed and sat her down.
“Now, listen very carefully, Charlotte.”
There was a knock on the bedroom door, and Alma appeared, her cheeks redder than usual. “There’s someone here for you, she says—” Alma was pushed aside, and a tall, curvy figure barged into the room, red hair spilling everywhere, eye patch over one eye, the kelp fronds of her dress swaying.
“My loves! You’re about to discuss the wedding night. Come, that is my specialist subject. I shall tell you everything.” Odette stalked over and lay on the bed, beckoning Hester and Charlotte closer.
Hester gaped at the siren. How dare she show up after all this time and steal her thunder?!