Charlotte despaired, looking between the four of them as the cacophony of arguments grew louder.
“Give it back!” Rose demanded, her face now plastered with one of Harry’s outstretched hands as he pushed her away and ate the toast.
“Give what back? All gone now.”
“You tell me to do things. I do not particularly understand what the difference is,” Margaret said with a shrug.
“Harry!” Rose wailed.
Charlotte picked up her knife and tapped it against the glass bearing her orange juice. The sound echoed around the room and abruptly, all the arguments stopped.
Four pairs of eyes swung toward her. There were three sets of blue eyes, for both siblings bore those blue irises, as did her mother, though her father’s eyes were a light hazel brown.
“Charlotte?” David asked quietly.
“I thought you might want to stop,” she said simply. “Or any minute now, what remains of our staff will run into this room in fear we are killing each other.”
Harry snorted with laughter as Rose looked quite outraged. She tapped Harry across the shoulder angrily, though she stopped and sat on her hand when Charlotte arched an eyebrow at her.
“Harry, desist from stealing Rose’s toast. Rose, if you do not rise so much to what he’s doing, he will not do it, for you will be taking the fun out of it.
As for you two,” she turned to face her parents. David was smiling, taking great joy in the moment and having discarded his usual newspaper to the side. Margaret sat there wide-eyed, as if she feared being told off like a naughty child as well. “I know you insist on arguing every day, but could you at least halt your argument for a few minutes of polite conversation?”
“Polite, you say?” David smiled and picked up his newspaper once again. “Howenjoyable.”
The irony was not lost on Charlotte, nor on Harry who snorted once again, but Charlotte ignored him.
She had often noted over the years how her family seemed to misplace propriety on occasion in favor of uproar. Charlotte had veered against such a tradition. Years of attending parties and balls in the ton had taught her that there was only one way to be, only one way not to draw unwanted attention to herself.
I have to be the perfect lady, proper, prim, and polite. All the ‘p’s.
“Well, dear, let us talk of something else then,” Margaret said and sat forward, clearing her throat and adopting a more formal position with her posture. “Will you be attending the ball tonight?”
“I will.” Charlotte didn’t bother asking her mother to attend with her. She had learned long ago that Margaret would infinitely prefer to stay at home or attend to the garden, knee deep in the mud, than go to a formal ball. “Aunt Susan has said she will escort me.”
“Excellent, excellent. Saves us having to go, doesn’t it?” David said to his wife with a humored smile.
“Yes, I suppose it does.” Margaret looked uneasy. “You do not mind, do you, Charlotte? We are quite bored of such events.”
“I know. It is no matter.” Charlotte kept her face impassive. She would not allow a single muscle to twitch to show her true feelings.
Her parents had once accompanied her to events of theton, but then had soon ended when they realized that no man was interested in courting Charlotte. She had been out in Society for five years now, yet no betrothal was forthcoming.
At times, she thought her parents had rather given up on any hope of her ever making a match.
They think I will be a spinster forever.
Her gut tightened with fear at the thought. She was not bothered about the idea of love, for she hardly wanted to argue every day as her parents did, but she was fond of the idea of making aformal match. If she could marry a man who at least respected her, and offered her comfort, then she could indeed be content.
“Wait.” David put down his paper a few inches, his large eyes narrowing a little. “You have not purchased a new dress, have you, Charlotte? For you know, we –”
“I know.” She kept her voice calm. “Have no fear, Father. I am well aware of our financial position. I have not bought a new gown.” She kept out of the discussion that she had not had a new gown in two years.
“Good, thank you, Charlotte. Fingers crossed it will not always be this way.”
She said nothing, for she feared it would be improper to do so. She was well aware that there was one way out of their situation – if she could make a good match, with a wealthy man, then perhaps their precarious situation with money could be solved forever.
There is just one problem with that. No gentleman has ever expressed an interest in marrying me.
