“Is this the mother’s room?” she asked.
“Yes, I think it would be.”
Charlotte’s head bobbed slowly. “It’s lovely. I’m glad Nick gave it to you.”
Emilia stirred uneasily. “It’s only temporary...”
Charlotte glanced at her with a flash of impish humor. “You think he’ll give it to me when I’m grown?” She shook her head. “I’d rather stay upstairs. Being able to see over the trees and rooftops is wonderful.”
“You won’t need a governess when you’re grown,” said Emilia.
“But Lucy still will.”
Emilia folded her arms. “Perhaps.”
Charlotte ran her fingers through the thick folds of the drape at one window. “She’ll want you by her for a long time. It takes years for nightmares to fade.”
“Do you have nightmares, too?” Emilia asked quietly.
A fine shiver ran through Charlotte, but she gave a firm shake of her head. “Not anymore. Years ago I did. Nick gave me a pistol to keep by my bed.”
Emilia’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“It wasn’t real,” cried Charlotte hastily, covering a smile with one hand. “I should have said that! It looked quite real, and I thought it was, but later Nicky showed me—it never was.” She laughed a little. “I should have known. He never showed me how to load it, or shoot it, or anything. He simply laid it on the table and said it would scare away anyone who tried to hurt me.”
Who would try to hurt you as you slept?Emilia wondered. “I suppose if it was a comfort, and could cause no harm, it wasn’t a bad thing to do.”
Charlotte’s smile faded. “I doubt he knew what else to do. He must have thought having a pistol by the bed was a perfectly normal way of sleeping. I’m so much younger than he, how could he know what else to say? And we were almost strangers to each other.”
Emilia had been wondering about the relationship between guardian and ward, but now she thought she had it. There was less than twenty years’ difference in their ages, which made it unlikely Mr. Dashwood was her father. But the nameNickymade her believe her second guess was right: brother and sister. Why would siblings be strangers? And why would he keep it secret?
“He did the best he could, and I shall never fault him for that,” Charlotte was saying. “Just as Lucy will always love you, for how you’ve cared for her.”
That only reminded Emilia of how much she couldn’t do for Lucy. “Mr. Dashwood has done a great deal of good for her, too.”
“He likes to help people, no matter what he might tell you. When my friend Polly’s father lost his position in a factory, Nick got him a new one, and helped her family find a place to live. It was directly across from my house, which was ever so lovely, as there were no other girls nearby.” Charlotte came and plopped down on the small settee. “He despises injustice, no matter how small.”
Emilia took the chair. “Very admirable.”
She nodded eagerly. “He’s very admirable!” Then she made a face. “Sometimes too admirable. He’s very strict at times.”
“Because of James?” guessed Emilia. She’d seen Charlotte roll her eyes at the footman hovering behind her.
Charlotte twisted the ribbon of her dressing gown around her fingers. “I ought not to complain about him. It’s lovely to be allowed to go out at all.”
“Were you not allowed out before?” asked Emilia in astonishment, before she could stop herself.
The girl looked startled. “Oh—Er, well, not often.” She looked away but her cheeks were scarlet. “Nick is much too busy to take me around, you know.”
And Charlotte had had no governess. Emilia’s thoughts raced in different directions. “So you never went anywhere?”
“Not much. I was permitted out in the court, particularly if Polly and her brothers were out. We raced hoops and skipped rope. Still, I wished we could venture out more, to Astley’s or the Tower, or to Bond Street...” She went quiet suddenly, then jumped off the sofa again, as if she couldn’t hold still any longer. “This room must have a brilliant view of the park. Does it?” She pulled back one drape and stared into the night.
Emilia came to stand beside her, trying to hide her seething interest. Charlotte was charming, with an open, eager curiosity about everything around her. But she’d slept with a pistol beside her bed, given by a guardian—brother?—who was a stranger to her, and she wasn’t permitted out without a personal attendant. And she knew what nightmares were.
“It does,” she said with a smile, in answer to the girl’s question. “I hope the future lady of the house has a fondness for views, for this one is splendid.”
“Lady of the house? You mean... his wife?”
