Page 2 of A Brooding Christmas Promise
The biting remark made Charlotte wince inwardly, aware that the truth was in it all the same.
“He cared for me,” Lady Barcsay continued, her voice softening just a little though Charlotte caught the flickering smile in the corners of her mouth, a smile which said that she knew very well what she was doing and just how much it pained Charlotte to hear it. “It was clear to me that he loved me and even now, with his passing, there comes that same awarenessof all that he felt for me.” She sighed and put one hand to her heart, looking away for a moment. “I am to be cared for, at his command, for the rest of my days.”
“No.” Amelia shook her head, speaking before Charlotte could even think of what to say. “You cannot insist that Charlotte follows what our father has said for her to do, even if you think that it is what ought to happen. I will not permit it.”
Lady Barcsay lifted one eyebrow. “You think that she will defy her father’s requirement of her?”
Charlotte closed her eyes, feeling her heart wrench. On one hand, she was free to make her own choice but on the other, the weight of responsibility to do as her father had wished her to do sat down heavily upon her shoulders.
“I do not know what society will think should they hear that the daughter of the late Lord Barcsay refused to do as was asked of her,” Lady Barcsay continued, her tone now holding a good deal of foreboding, a warning thatshewould be the one to spread such a story, should Charlotte refuse. “It is her duty.”
“Enough.” Charlotte broke through her stepmother’s words, her voice rasping with emotion. “Now is not the time for any such conversation. We are at Amelia’s wedding and it is to be a joyous occasion. Any sort of discussion can take place at another time.”
“Charlotte, no! You cannot be thinking of doing what she asks!” Amelia, ignoring Charlotte’s suggestion that they bring the conversation to an end, continued on fervently. “You deserve to have your chance at a home and a family of your own. I know that father cared deeply for all of us but he cannot have been thinking clearly when he made that statement. Besides which, even if he was, it is not a command, nor a dictate. You can still choose not to do so.”
Lady Barcsay snorted. “And what shame that choice would bring! Which gentlemen would look at you should you make that decision and should all thetonknow of it?”
“Please!” Her vision suddenly blurred with tears, Charlotte rose from her chair and, not even looking where she was going, stumbled past her stepmother and made her way out of the drawing room at once. Wiping her eyes and forcing a smile so that those who walked past her would not see her upset, Charlotte made her way to her bedchamber and hurried inside.
Closing the door, she rushed to her bed and threw herself down upon it, her tears now flowing freely. She had known that her father cared deeply for his new wife but she had never imagined that he would ever do something like this! To give up all that she had hoped for herself, to give up her own life in order to be the companion to someone who did not care for her in the least… it took everything away from her.
Her heart broke apart and Charlotte began to sob. She did not hear her sister come in but soon, Amelia sat down beside her on the bed, offering her what comfort she could but it did not dull the pain.
She was now fated to reside in a state of perpetual spinsterhood, for the present and all times to come; and with that grim reality, all her hopes and dreams were utterly shattered, with naught but despair in place of any prospect for restoration.
Chapter One
‘My dear sister,’Charlotte read silently, her heart beginning to quicken with a fierce hope and expectation.‘I do hope that you will come to London for the Christmas Season. I am already expecting your arrival, even though it is still some months away! I have missed your company desperately and have thought of you every day. I cannot bear to think of you alone in the house with our stepmother. I cannot imagine what you are enduring and thus, with that in mind, I must beg of you to come to stay with us. I have already written to our brother to inform him of my invitation to you and I am sure that he will write to you very soon. Do say that you will come, my dear? You are of age now to make your own decision and though I am certain that Lady Barcsay will inform you that you are to remain with her, remember that you are free to make your own choice. Besides, it is not as though you will be abandoning her, is it? A few weeks away from the Dower house will do you good, I am sure of it, and we will be able to spend many happy moments together. Will that not please your heart? Will you not find joy and hope in that? Write to me very soon and tell me that you are coming. Yours, your most affectionate sister.’
Charlotte let out a slow breath as she folded up the letter again and then pressed it to her heart. Ever since Amelia had wed, Charlotte had felt an ever-increasing sense of loneliness. To bring a little respite to that, to find herself in a home filled with love and warmth and happiness would bring her a great relief, she was certain.
Though, of course, she still had Lady Barcsay to contend with.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte took in a long breath and tried to find the courage which she would need to inform her stepmother about such a thing. To go to London for Christmas would be no small thing, for it would mean leaving her stepmother alone here in the Dower house, though, of course, there were other family members that she could choose to go and join if she wished. Charlotte was not her only family.
“I want to go,” she murmured aloud, turning back to her writing desk and, picking up a fresh piece of paper, laying it down on the table and smoothing it with one hand. These last few months had been nothing but difficult, had offered her naught but sorrow and frustration and the chance of escaping it for even a short while was not something that Charlotte could refuse.
‘Amelia, how glad I am to hear from you,’she wrote, her quill scratching across the paper in a hasty fashion, as though she were afraid that her stepmother would come into the room without warning and would somehow know what she was writing. “I cannot say more at present but be assured that I have every intention of making my way to London for Christmas. Thank you for your kind invitation. I shall count the days until we are in each other’s company again!’
Before she could change her mind or lose herself in her thoughts, worrying about what she ought to do, Charlotte signed the letter, folded it and then rang the bell while she waited for the wax to warm itself through. Sealing it closed, she addressed it and, just as that was finished, the door opened and a footman came in. She studied him for a moment before ascertaining that indeed, this was one of the servants that she trusted. Many of them would tell everything that Charlotte had been doing to her stepmother, who would then go on to question her and, at the same time, find fault with her for what she had either done or had failed to do.
“Have this sent immediately,” she directed. “At this very moment, do you understand?”
The footman nodded, took the letter from her without a word and then made his way from the room – and Charlotte let out a long, slow breath, closing her eyes as she leaned back into her chair.
Now all I have to do is inform my stepmother that I will be going to London for Christmas.
A wry smile tipped her lips and though it lingered, a sadness entered her heart and began to pull it down towards the depths. Living with her stepmother had been a dull, painful existence where even taking a breath on some days seemed to cause difficulty. It was as though Lady Barcsay did not want her to be in this very house with her though, whenever Charlotte stepped out of it even to go on a short errand, the lady became very angry indeed and demanded to know what Charlotte had been doing – often times insisting on accompanying her the next time she stepped out. Charlotte did not understand it, for it seemed to her that Lady Barcsay appeared to enjoy making her life a miserable existence, seemed to relish the fact that Charlotte had been directed by her late father’s hopes, to live in this way. There were times when Charlotte had thought to simply state that she wouldnotbe doing such a thing any longer, that she would take herself to her brother’s house now that he was back or, even better, to London to find herself a match but then the words of her father came back to her – written words which she had read herself – and her thoughts had crumpled into a heap and faded away.
“Charlotte?”
The door to Charlotte’s supposedly private parlor flew open and Lady Barcsay strode in, her hands to her hips as she glared at her.
“What letters are you writing?”
Charlotte blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I saw one of the footmen depart and demanded to know where he was going. It seems thatyoudirected him to take your letter to be posted at once, without even a single flicker of hesitation! Is there a reason to that?”
