When Charlotte’s mother died, it had been incredibly difficult. And with her father so often working away, Charlotte found herself at a loss. Though there were nursemaids and governesses aplenty, Charlotte had found herself spending more and more time in the bosom of Lady Hurtle, Chelsea’s mother. At the tender age of seven, their family life looked to be perfect, and Lady Hurtle had been kind enough to mother Charlotte as well.
“I know whatmymother would say,” Chelsea said, brightening the mood suddenly. She imitated her mother’s whiny voice. “You are taking too long, Charlotte. If you do not select someone soon, I shall select someone for you.”
Charlotte laughed, loudly and freely. “You sound just like her—she has indeed said that exact sentence to me more than once, though Aunt Lydia would have a thing or two to say about it, that’s for sure.”
Aunt Lydia, one of Charlotte’s guardians, was a decent enough woman but she tended to be a little overbearing, even with her husband, Charlotte’s Uncle Elliot. Charlotte had long suspected that though her mother had liked Elliot well enough, she would not have abided Lydia’s austere ways.
“Ah yes, dear Aunt Lydia. Doesn’t she have something to say about your rejected prospects?”
“Oddly, no,” Charlotte said, surprised by her own answer. “I don’t know why. She has enough to say about everything else.”
“Perhaps she still sees you as a little girl,” Chelsea suggested. “She does prefer you in rather unflattering clothing, after all.”
“And always with my hair scraped back and pinned down,” Charlotte added with a laugh. “I’m certain she means well but it does make my head ache by the end of the day.”
“What about you?” Chelsea asked. “Do you ever regret turning down quite so many proposals?”
Only in that I do not get to experience the throes of passion.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, deciding to answer in the way society expected her to. “From men far more interested in my wealth than in me? No, of course not. If they weren’t rakes, they were bores, and if they weren’t bores, they were fops. I do sometimes wonder if there is a single good man left in England.”
“Perhaps I took the last one,” Chelsea said with a nonchalant shrug.
“I am perfectly happy to be myself—and bebymyself,” Charlotte went on, reassuring her friend. “I know it might be difficult to understand, but there it is. I would far rather that than find myself caught up in an unhappy marriage.”
“But there’s the issue,” Chelsea said, leaning forward eagerly as if she’d caught the hook. “Why would you assume a marriage would be unhappy? You don’t thinkminewill be unhappy, do you?”
Something darkened Chelsea’s eyes, and Charlotte realized that now was not the time to be negative about love. It was a time for celebration, and her friend needed her encouragement, not her pessimism.
“Of course not,” she cried, reaching out and squeezing Chelsea’s hand. “Dear me, your marriage will undoubtedly be the happiest in the world, for it’s you and Lord Leming, and you could be nothing else. Ignore my self-pity. I am turning more and more into an old crow as the days go by.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. “You arenotan old crow,” she said. She raised her eyes and looked at Charlotte from beneath her lashes and then added, “Yet.”
The pair burst into happy laughter, falling over each other onto the wet, dewy earth. Charlotte knew she’d be picking bits of twig from her hair for the rest of the day, but she didn’t care because when she was with Chelsea, she felt free again. Young again. So very different to when she was with her guardians.
Uncle Elliot was a kind and generous soul, and Aunt Lydia was… well, she was Aunt Lydia, but they both believed strongly in propriety and traditional roles, and neither quite understood Charlotte’s attitude to life.
Soon, they lay on their backs, staring up at the glimmers of sun glittering through the gaps in the tree. Charlotte sighed.
“I really do think Lord Leming is perfect for you, and I suppose in some ways I am envious. Not because I want to marry, you understand, but because you two just seem… right. It’s so natural and easy for you to be together. That’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”
And I wonder whether anyone would ever feel right with an oddball like me.
She turned her head to look at her friend. Chelsea continued to stare upward, but the soft smile on her face told Charlotte she was thinking of her love.
“It is rather perfect, isn’t it?” she said. “And we’ll be married in only a matter of months.”
“So soon?” Charlotte was so shocked that she sat up again. Chelsea continued to sprawl, a hand draped over her stomach.
“I told you we’d be married by the end of the summer.”
“Yes, but…” Charlotte hesitated. “But I thought that was simply a turn of phrase.”
Chelsea shrugged. “Why wait, when you have found the one?”
“But however will you be ready in time?” Charlotte asked.
“I shall be returning to Hampshire in a week’s time to start the preparations. You’re right. There’s so much to do. So much to organize.” She sat up quickly, swinging her legs around so that she crossed them beneath her. “Will you come, Charlotte? Will you stay with me a while and help with the preparations? Please, say you will!”
