Slowly, her mother moved away from the window. She walked over to stand at the foot of the bed, calmly resting her hands on the bedframe.
“I know you cannot close that window,” she whispered. “You feel what everyone thinks about you out there most keenly.” Her eyes narrowed a little. “But I ask you this, Charlotte. You have here a family that loves you. We may not be perfect, but no family is. So, I ask you this.”
She inhaled deeply, as if steeling herself for something. “Tell me, why is it you are so ashamed of us all?”
That guilt spiked in Charlotte’s gut now. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but words failed her. Instead, shethought of the Duke of Rodstone. She thought of him walking out of the door of his house and getting in a carriage, not bothering to wave as he would make his way back to Scotland.
The tears erupted from Charlotte in great heaving gasps.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Oh, Charlotte.”
Charlotte could not see her mother for the tears were so sudden and strong. Her vision blurred at once and she hung her head down, facing her own lap as she raised her hands to her cheeks and tried to wipe away those tears.
She would have told Rose not to cry without a handkerchief so she could dab those tears away delicately, but such an instruction felt mad at this moment. She let her tears fall down her cheeks unable to stop them.
A pair of arms came up around her and it took Charlotte a few moments to realize it was her mother’s arms. Margaret embraced her tightly as Charlotte capitulated onto her mother’s shoulder and cried there.
It had been years since she had cried on her mother’s shoulder in such a way. She must have been a child the last time she had done this.
“Now, what is all of this really about, eh?” Margaret asked softly. She lifted Charlotte a little, taking Charlotte’s face delicately in her hands. “Goodness, love. Look at all these tears.” Her expression was now soft indeed, no longer bearing that look of impassivity she had been holding onto before.
“I’m… I’m not ashamed,” Charlotte managed to stammer through her tears.”
“Then what is it?” Margaret dried her tears for her, but they were quickly replaced by fresh ones.
“I’m afraid!” Charlotte gushed suddenly. She tried to turn out of her mother’s hold, to hide from her, but Margaret wouldn’t let her.
“Come here, Charlotte. Goodness, how can I comfort you if you’re wriggling like a worm?” Margaret asked with the gentlest of laughs. She wrapped Charlotte in a one-armed hug and pulled her close again. Charlotte’s head fell on her mother’s shoulder. She didn’t try to pull away again and just cried on her mother, wetting the shoulder of her gown. “What have you got to be afraid about?” Margaret whispered after some minutes.
Charlotte’s gut was still twitching in the effort to control her tears as she sat up, wiping her eyes.
“Everything,” she murmured. “Susan has always said that thetonjudge us. When they look at us… they judge, every second of the day.”
“I’m well aware what my sister thinks of such things, thank you,” Margaret said pointedly. “You must have noticed, Charlotte, that I take no notice of her opinion on the matter.”
“Why not?” Charlotte asked. “At my debut, I was talked about. Men didn’t like the fact I did not know how to dance properly, or what cutlery to use, or how to hold my glass the right way.”
Margaret’s face blanched.
“They didn’t like any of it,” Charlotte said hurriedly. “I sought to correct myself, but what good is that? I have no dowry, nothing, and thetonstill talk.” She looked down into her lap, miserably. “I’m a spinster, without the chance of a husband really, and thenhehad to come along.”
“He? Who’s he?” Margaret asked.
When fresh tears spilled down Charlotte’s cheeks, Margaret stood and crossed the room. She found a fresh handkerchief and moved back to Charlotte’s side, drying her tears this time with the handkerchief.
“Let me guess,” Margaret whispered. “Is the ‘he’ you’re speaking of the Duke of Rodstone?”
Charlotte nodded, unable to summon the strength to say his name.
“Ah, I see.” Margaret leaned forward with a smile. “Charlotte, I may be the mother that embarrasses you.”
“Mother, I didn’t say that –”
“Not in so many words, but it's true.” Yet Margaret didn’t seem offended. She actually smiled. “It’s a pattern of life, I’m afraid. Sometimes mothers embarrass their children. My mother was just the same. I may be the mother that embarrasses you, but please, tell me what is truly going on now. Despite what you said the night of the assembly, you feel something for the duke. Do you not?”
Charlotte nodded again.
