Reginald entered the room, dressed in sumptuous purple satin and sporting an onyx stone in his cravat pin. Charlotte remembered that Reginald had always cared deeply for clothes and was glad that she had remembered correctly.
“There you are. You are not dressed yet. I will not tell Mother; she will pull her hair out. I should not delay you much longer, though. There is little time. I was surprised to see you walking this morning, today of all days.”
“I needed to take the air. Perhaps because the house has been so hectic this morning,” Charlotte replied airily, “but as time is of the essence, was there something you wanted, Reginald?”
Reginald looked back over his shoulder and then closed the door, advancing into the room. He lowered his voice.
“Simply to ask if you have had an opportunity to speak to Victoria on my behalf? To explain? After our last conversation, I have been searching for an opportunity to get you on your own, but first, you were away, and then there was all this damnablefuss. I feel like I have had no opportunity to speak to you in private for a fortnight!”
His eyes were wide and imploring, his voice earnest. Charlotte felt sympathy for him and wondered at her sister for leaving her cousin in the middle of a situation she had clearly promised to help him with.
If there was something to be done, then why would she suddenly want to switch places? And if I am expected to make good on her promise, why would she leave no word? I must find Marie and discover what is happening!
“I have not, I am afraid, Reginald. But I will rest assured,” Charlotte replied with as much confidence as she could muster, hoping Reginald would accept it.
He nodded, smiling gratefully.
“The thought of dear Victoria continuing in ignorance, believing me to be interested in that...otherwoman is maddening. I wish there were a way out of this situation where I could simply follow my heart. I fear the responsibility of being heir to the Prescott line is a heavy one.”
Charlotte smiled. “It must be. Do not fret. I shall speak to Victoria and explain as soon as today is done with.”
Reginald nodded, and Charlotte decided to take a chance. She picked one of the two dresses and held it up in front of her.
“What do you think? Does it suit?”
Reginald glanced at the other dress.
“I think Mama would rather you wore the new one. It was expensive enough. If she sees you in anything else, she will not be best pleased. She regards today as the culmination of a great deal of time and effort. Like a peace treaty negotiated between two warring nations.”
Charlotte smiled brightly and picked up the other dress.
At least I know what I am supposed to be wearing, though I know precious little else. Today is an important social event for Aunt Phyllis, but I do not know what is expected of me. I know my cousin is in love with a lady called Victoria, but is she expected to marry another? At least that is my deduction. I hope Grace can tell me who Victoria is.
“Have you seen Marie this morning?” Charlotte asked.
Reginald was turning to leave, but this seemed to stop him in his tracks.
“Marie? Your old maid?”
“Hardly old, Reginald,” Charlotte replied, “she is of an age with me.”
“Old as inprevious, Amelia. As in no longer with us,” Reginald said as though stating the perfectly obvious.
Charlotte’s heart sank. There would be no help forthcoming. She was alone.
“Yes, I know. I-I was being silly,” Charlotte managed, stuttering, “I shall have to dig out her forwarding address...”
“Forwarding address?” Reginald furrowed his brows, “are you quite well, Amelia? Marie returned to France, as you should know. Quite unexpectedly. You were devastated for a while. Perhaps I should ask Doctor Fox to pay you a visit.”
“No, no, Reginald! I am quite well. I am merely a little... overwhelmed by the circumstances,” Charlotte stammered in panic. “I really must dress now, if you will excuse me.”
She ushered him from the room and closed the door behind him. Then she paced the room, hands to her head.
What have you landed me in, Amelia? I should come clean with Aunt Phyllis, admit everything. Except that would end any chance of Amelia and me ever doing this again. And it has been so exciting in the past. Exchanging a quiet country life for one of society balls in London.
She reached a decision and hurried to the escritoire. The only course of action was to write to Amelia at Hamilton House—or rather, write to herself, for then it would be delivered to Amelia,posing as her. She would tell Amelia that she had forgotten the usual routine and needed to tell Charlotte urgently all she needed to know. The letter was half written when there came a short, sharp rap on the door.
“I am nearly ready and do not need any help getting dressed!” she called out.
