Her friend Clementine had established her reputation as one, but Charity had most certainly never expected Auntie Louise to attempt it. Especially not on her behalf. For all that Clementine adored uniting couples in love, she had never tried to steer Charity in any gentleman’s direction. But her aunt…Hmm.The revelation, coupled with the strangeness of some of Auntie Louise’s behaviors this evening, gave Charity pause.
Made her feel as if she had inadvertently swallowed a seed. And now the seed had grown. It was swelling in her throat, filling her with a strange, uncomfortable sensation. Choking her with misgiving.
“I was not playing at anything, my darling girl,” Auntie Louise said. “I merely… I wanted you to have the happiness I was denied.”
She searched her aunt’s gaze. “What happiness were you denied?”
She had always supposed Auntie Louise was contented as she was. She had never had a beau in Charity’s recollection. Nor had she ever been married. Charity had found kinship in their mutual desire to flout convention. Auntie Louise had never pressured her to be proper or to marry.
“Love,” Auntie Louise said simply. “I was in love once, a long time ago.”
It was the first Charity had heard of this.
“When?” she asked.
“It was a long time ago now. You need not concern yourself with the details of the past.” Her aunt paused, sighing. “All you do need to worry about is your future. I want nothing but the best for you, and I have every confidence that Lord Wilton shall make you a wonderful husband.”
But she was not going to allow her aunt to dismiss this topic so hastily.
Charity shook her head, feeling as if she were on the edge of a revelation she was not certain she was prepared to accept and yet needing to pursue it nonetheless. “I do need to know. When?Whenwere you in love, Auntie Louise?”
Her aunt was solemn, her countenance suddenly paler than ever. “Before you were born. You would not know of it, of course.”
Before Charity had beenborn.
Suddenly, all the questions that had filled her over the years, all the observations swirled together, like strands of hair being coiled into a braid.
Auntie Louise’s resemblance to her—they had the same hair, eyes, nose, mannerisms. They despised rules. They loved bold colors. They longed for adventure. They said knock-knock instead of scratching on a door. Charity had nothing in common with her siblings. Nor with her parents. Auntie Louise had been the most important person in her life, always. Her parents had forever been too distracted. Too busy with their own lives. Too fixated upon her brother and sister, their grandchildren. There had been nothing left for Charity.
For the first time, she wondered if there was a reason beyond what she had always supposed, that she was the youngest, a hoyden, and a disappointment for her parents after her inability to attract a proper match. What if there was more to her estrangement with them?
Her chest felt tight. Her breath was shallow. Heart pounding.
“Charity?” Auntie Louise said, her voice concerned, reaching for her. “You look pale, my darling. What is amiss?”
What was amiss?
Everything!
“You,” she managed past lips that had gone numb. “Youare what is amiss. Or rather, your lies.”
“Lies?”
“What are you not telling me?” she demanded, fearing the answer and yet needing to hear it.
Auntie Louise watched her, looking stricken.
Quiet.
The implications were clear. And if Charity were honest with herself, she would admit that she’d had suspicions. All through life. Tiny inklings. Hints here and there. They gathered together now like a snowball, growing larger and larger with each new revelation.
“Tell me the truth,” she tried again. “Please.”
Auntie Louise’s lips moved. But no sound escaped them. Nothing but an exhalation of sound. She shook her head. “I…”
“Say it,” Charity ground out.
“I am your mother,” Auntie Louise said.
