Page 10 of The Brooding Duke's Fateful Letter
“I am sorry bug.” He looked up. “Perhaps you could have someone bring her to you once you are more settled in your new home,” Lord Wentworth said, with less joy than usual.
“Perhaps.” She echoed his sentiment sadly and walked away to pack her things.
“Charlotte.” Lord Wentworth called after her. She turned to face him and smiled.
“Don’t look so unhappy, Father. I will visit so often that you would hardly know I had left,” she said in a brave voice, knowing, as usual, what he was thinking.
Charlotte took the longest way back to the house, to take in the grounds one last time. Instead of taking the direct path, she walked closer to the property line. From there she could see their entire home. It all looked so small now, and it had been home her entire life. She hoped she could be back home soon or at the very least be able to have her horse with her.
I wonder if the duke is a kind man. I hope he’s handsome at least. I have a month to decide and the choice to come home. If the duke doesn’t honor my father’s wishes, then he isn’t the type of man I wish to marry.
Charlotte was desperately trying to come to terms with her immediate future.
Her mind went to the thought that she would soon be in the position to have the family she had always wanted. One that she had vowed wouldn’t feel the resentments she had felt as a child and even still today. She came near the main house when she saw her sister. It pained her that she would sooner walk past her than bother to say goodbye.
“What has you smiling so joyfully?” Bethany asks from a nearby tree.
“The future is full of possibilities,” Charlotte said without her usual smile.
“How sure are you, dear sister?” Bethany said the endearment as though it was an insult. “Why would anyone want to marry you? No, your fortune comes from the duke thinking he’s to wed the true heir of our family. I do hope he’s not too upset when he finds himself imprisoned to a commoner.”
Bethany walked away as she said that last remark. She loved to make Charlotte feel less than she was at every turn.
Her mother is the same. I’m glad I’m not born from that hag! My father cares for her. It is all that keeps her here. Charlotte thought angrily and disliked that they had the ability to vex her out of her usual good graces.
Charlotte walked to all of her favorite places in the gardens. She made sure to visit the family grave site and the old apple trees in the orchid. There were many other trees growing full of fruit. None of them brought her as many fond memories as the red apple tree.
The sun set behind the faraway hills making them appear blue. It was a stark reminder that her time at home was running out. She made her way inside to get her things and choose the dress she was to meet her future husband in. She had packed all her best clothes, her favorite books and her watercolor set. It was difficult to know what to take with her.
A special dinner had been arranged as a farewell for Charlotte. The guests were close friends only and family. She knew her father meant well, she felt unsure that she had the strength to get through a dinner. She bathed and dressed while maid servants attended her hair, and clasped on the jewelry she had selected for the evening.
Charlotte made her way from her room and down the large hallway that led to the rest of the manor. A man stepped in front of her blocking her path.
“Excuse me sir.” Charlotte said politely.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Lord LeBlanc said in a way that made Charlotte uneasy.
“An old friend wouldn’t expect the payment of a human being for their kindness.” Charlotte said and tried to move around him. He grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“How dare you. We are hardly as familiar to one another that you may touch me!” Charlotte exclaimed aghast.
“You should show more gratitude for not letting your family live on the streets.” He said as he sneered at her.
“My family has been deeply grateful to yours. That does not give you any right to behave in an unseemly manner.” Charlotte said more steadily.
“Says the daughter of the women who had to beg for a place to stay,” he replied.
It was the truth. The reminder was unnecessary as the memories of all the more difficult times stuck with her. Her mother had gone all over the world seeking fame. She had taken Charlotte with her. Her mother had tastes that she could ill afford. Soon they had no place to stay.
Too embarrassed to return to her husband, she had asked for help. It was in those times that Charlotte had learned that most people would not help you for free. Lord LeBlanc moved to let Charlotte go and she needed no further invitation. She decided to pretend he had not attended this evening.
The guests waited in the dining hall with drinks in hand. She may be the guest of honor but she was still expected to provide the entertainment for the evening. The cursed harp stood triumphantly nestled in a corner of the room. Charlotte greeted her guests and made her way to the small stool that waited close to the harp.
Charlotte took her time getting herself seated. The eager faces of her guests annoyed her more than it enthused her to play.She chose the most complicated piece of music to play. A new offering from Beethoven that celebrated England’s triumph over the French. Though her heritage lay with both sides, she felt equally defeated by her existence in England. Her thoughts were more with prisoners of war than the victorious English.
Charlotte despised having to practice playing an instrument for hours yet found that she could get lost in thought on the wings of music. The guests showed their appreciation with soft applause before turning to sit at the table.
Charlotte enjoyed fish soup as little as most did. She had pretended to adore it the moment she had learned her stepmother couldn’t stomach it. When the plate was set before Charlotte, she waited to see Lady Wentworth put on her best performance to date.
