Page 3 of Under the Seductive Ladys Charm
As they worked, they fell into a companionable silence, leaving Charlotte to her own thoughts. She followed those thoughts all the way back to her childhood when she and Amanda Easterly were tutored together by Amanda’s governess and Charlotte’s own father. Charlotte felt a pang of lonesomeness at the thought of her old friend.
Too much time had passed for Charlotte to simply show up with some self-held belief that she was somehow worthy of Amanda’s benefit. There was no way she could bring herself to throw herself on the mercy of Amanda or the Earl of Atcham. It was far too likely that they would simply banish her without a thought, and it would be inexcusably rude to push herself on them so.
Charlotte was many things, but she was not rude. She had always sought to make her father proud by being every bit the lady that he had proclaimed her mother to be. Charlotte could not very well dishonour her mother in such a way now.
She set her mind to just simply getting through the funeral and then she would see what she needed to do next. Perhaps she could wash clothes or do needlework. She was not much on sewing but she could try. Charlotte squared her shoulders and put her mind back on her work. A step at a time would get one down the road in front of them, as her father had always said.
*
On the day of the funeral, the sky was covered with a stubborn layer of clouds that not even the persistent wind that blew through the trees could budge. Charlotte felt that was right and proper. There should be no true sunshine in the world on the day she said goodbye to her brother.
Charles deserved for the whole world to join Charlotte in mourning him. Even the clouds wept, and Charlotte walked down the steps of the church proud to walk through those raindrops. Her dark mourning dress and hat kept the drops from hitting her, but she could hear the taps that the rain made as it hit the world around her.
She still had two of the white roses she had brought to leave at her brother’s grave in her hand. Charlotte tipped her hat back and a drop of cool rain hit her cheek. Her feet quickened their pace as she walked down the lane towards Dallington.
It might be a small village, but it was all that was close by and Charlotte could think of no likelier place to find a better situation for herself. She could not continue staying at the vicarage, nor did she truly wish to do so. Perhaps she could find work as a maid at the inn, or wash dishes at the tavern.
Most of those places probably used family labour, but Charlotte had to hope. She would trek into the village and see if she could find something suitable. If she was quick, she could be back at the vicarage by nightfall.
Charlotte kept the tears at bay because, although she was sad, she simply had no time to indulge the emotion. She had to move forward and find herself a suitable place before she could even think of such things. It was not likely she could marry at this point as she was without dowry and of such a lowly position that she was a virtual social pariah.
She became aware of another sound over the din of the rain. It was the sound of a carriage. There was a creaking as the driver called on the horses to slow. Charlotte looked around but did not recognise the carriage or driver. The man dipped his head to Charlotte and she gave him a little curtsey in return for his deference.
It was then that a face appeared in the carriage window. “Charlotte Browne, is that you?”
Charlotte peered at the window, but it was not until the footman hurried over and opened the door that Charlotte connected the voice with the face before her. “Amanda,” she breathed in surprise.
“What are you doing walking in the rain? Get in the carriage.” Amanda leaned forward and waved Charlotte over eagerly, as if she were trying to save her from drowning.
Charlotte’s situation was such that she decided that she had little choice. She climbed up into the carriage with Amanda. “This is such a treat,” Amanda continued once Charlotte was seated next to her, but the carriage did not move. “We have not seen each other in so long that I feel as though we are not the same people.”
“That is probably true,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Time does change people. How have you been, Amanda?”
Amanda gave Charlotte a bright smile that most likely set young men’s heart’s racing as Charlotte noted the twinkle in her old friend’s eyes. “I am preparing for the season, but I do not want to talk of such dull things. Do you recall how we used to hide from my governess?”
“I believe that was mostly your doing,” Charlotte reminded her. “But yes, I do recall. You liked to climb up into the attic and hide among your mother’s old dresses.”
Amanda agreed with a nod. “I still love visiting those old dresses, although we have got rid of a good amount of clutter in the attic.”
“That is a shame. There were so many interesting objects in there.” Charlotte felt genuine sorrow for the loss of the treasure that held childhood memories for her.
Amanda waved off her concern. “We still have plenty up there. My brother just takes these whims of generosity and decides to donate things.”
“And is that really so bad?” Charlotte thought it was rather a sensible thing to do when one had such a cluttered space.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Oh, I should have known you would end up like your father. What was it he always said, if you have something then you have something to share?”
Charlotte giggled and nodded. “He did use to say that, especially when we had some treat that one of us refused to share.”
Amanda shifted, causing Charlotte to take in the lovely dress the girl wore. It was of a brilliant blue and the shawl around her shoulders was a crisp clean white that made Charlotte wonder if her friend had ever worn it before. Amanda seemed to only then register how Charlotte was dressed. “Why are you dressed so?” Amanda frowned at Charlotte as if she did not really want the answer.
Charlotte looked down at her dress. It was her best one that was suitable for mourning. It was nothing fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was respectable. “Charles died in battle in the war,” Charlotte said as she smoothed her dress. “I have just come from his funeral at the church.”
Amanda gave her a look of disturbance. “You went to a funeral? Are they not those usually held at night?”
Charlotte straightened her shoulders. “I would not abandon my brother no matter the social decorum. I chose to have it during the day as my brother hated those long night-time processions.”
“I am deeply grieved to hear of his death. He was a nice man from what I knew of him,” Amanda said.
