I will write again once I have made decisions regarding your future. For now, rest, recover, and behave.
—Jasper
The letter slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the floor. The final word—behave—echoed in her ears, louder than the rest.
Great Aunt Eugenia? Norfolk?
Charlotte sank onto the edge of the bed, her body shaking. Her hands clenched into fists, crumpling the fabric of her gown. Grief mingled with fury, the latter rising faster than she could quell it. No one was fighting for her. Not even Jasper.
She had always been his baby sister, the one he protected. But now, this—this madness—he was sending her away without a second thought. No promises, no assurances. Norfolk. Great Aunt Eugenia. It was absurd.
And why wasn't Philip the one being punished? Why was it her life that was being uprooted, while he remained untouched?
Charlotte swallowed, her throat tight with resentment. Yes, she had lied—but hadn't it been a lie born of desperation? She had wanted a future that was rightfully hers, a life with Philip, the life she had led herself to believe was meant to be hers. Why couldn't they see that?
Instead, she was left with nothing. Abandoned by everyone—even her own flesh and blood.
Her brother had promised to fix things, hadn't he? He was supposed to make Philip marry her, to make everything right. But now, instead of fighting for her, he had turned his back, consigned her to some forgotten corner of England. And all the while, Philip remained untouched.
Why was she the one being punished for the lie, while Philip got away scot-free? She had played the game, sacrificed everything for a future that now felt like a cruel joke. All of her plans, her hopes—ripped away in an instant. What now? Was she to be hidden away like some dirty secret?
The door creaked, and her maid slipped inside, quiet as a shadow. Without a word, she opened the wardrobe and began to fold Charlotte’s gowns into a trunk.
Her maid's soft movements felt like an insult—the rustling of fabric, the clink of things being packed. Charlotte felt as if she were already forgotten, erased. Her life, her future, all of it was being boxed up, sent away to Norfolk. She had been discarded.
Was this what she deserved? After everything?
She wiped her eyes angrily, furious at herself for feeling anything at all. There was no room for weakness. She would not let them see her broken. They had already written her off, but she would make them regret it.
She turned her glare onto the maid, who continued her work in silence. The words burst out, thick with bitterness.
"And how long am I expected to stay gone?" Charlotte demanded, her voice hard.
The maid remained silent. Charlotte didn't need an answer—the silence spoke volumes. No one cared. No one cared about the details of her banishment.
Her gaze landed on the trunk, her belongings disappearing into it, piece by piece. This was it. She was being erased.
Her breath quickened, and the tears came, bitter and angry. She had ruined herself for nothing. For a man who had never cared. For a future that would never be.
It wasn't even real. She hadn't been ruined. She had lied to make a life for herself—just as so many others had done before her, to create a future that was hers by right. She had been willing to take Philip from Sophia—what else was she supposed to do, just wait for her rightful place? Sophia was just an Earl's daughter. This was what she got for aiming higher then her station, for thinking she could have more. With Philip choosing Sophia, lying had been the only way to get him to marry her.
How long would it take for Philip to forget her? How could she ever hope to win his love if she was sent away, hidden from view? Everything she had worked for—every hope, every plan—had been stolen. And now she was the villain in her own story.
"Why?" she whispered bitterly. "Why am I the one punished?"
Her chest heaved as the tears came, fierce and angry. She had ruined herself for nothing. For a future that never was.
Her brother's letter still lay on the floor, the words burning into her mind: Rest, recover, and behave. Behave.
It was as though Jasper wanted her to disappear. To be quiet. To become someone else's problem—a burden to be packed away.
She had been told what to do, what to feel, what to accept. There was no room for her to choose. She had been erased.
Charlotte stood, her movements jerky but controlled. She was done being the victim.
She would find a way out of this. Even if it meant breaking every rule she had once believed in.
Chapter 14
