“Thank you,” Arthur said with a slight bow of his head. “I hope so as well.”
Arthur subsequently endured one more hour of pretending to eat while making conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Putnam as best as he could. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious to them that he had no interest in most of it, especially since, with every minute that passed, he could feel Emma becoming more and more frustrated with his tardiness. By the time Arthur said farewell to his hosts and traveled home to his home on Prairie Avenue, it was seven thirty.
Oh, was he in trouble.
Arthur kept his head high as he made his way into the house, leaving his coachman, Patrick, to handle the horse and carriage. Since Arthur kept his staff small, he had to let himself inside, forPatrick served as his footman as well. Hurrying, while trying not to look like he was hurrying, he walked through the vestibule, followed by the reception room, past the staircase, and then turned right into the dining room.
Only to find it empty.
Charlotte’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Only thirty minutes late, hm?”
Arthur turned as Charlotte came up beside him. He sighed.
“Yes. And yet . . .”
He flicked his wrist, gesturing around the empty dining room. Charlotte offered a pitying smile.
“Emma waited a bit,” she said. “If that helps.”
“What, five minutes?”
Charlotte’s brows pinched. “More like three.”
“More like three,” he repeated. “Have you eaten?”
“No, but I told Gertrude to move our food into the library once Emma was finished.” She turned and started toward the hall. “I thought you’d probably prefer to eat in there.”
Arthur followed. “You know me well.”
In the library were two metal serving platters covered with lids. Underneath the lids, there was a feast consisting of roasted chicken with rice and root vegetables. On each of the two rolling carts next to the platters were two full wineglasses as well as some water.
Andthiswas one of the many reasons why Arthur kept his staff to a minimum, his employees consisting of only his maid and cook, Gertrude; his coachman, stable hand,andfootman, Patrick; and Charlotte, who was Emma’s tutor. He hired outside his home for some other tasks, like his household’s laundry.
Arthur hated the thought of other people in his social circle ever finding out about some of his more peculiar habits, like the fact that he preferred to eat on the sofa, oftentimes making a messof the cushions, and the fact that he was abitof a lush. And so, he found it simpler to keep his household small.
Arthur and Charlotte sat on the sofa together, their plates balanced on their laps, their wine on the little serving carts within reach. Arthur took a bite of chicken and made an obscene-sounding moan that he wouldn’t havedaredto make in anyone else’s company. Charlotte laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I’ve been so hungry,” he explained. “I’ve spent the last few hours takingtinybites of overcooked beef while my stomach protested.Loudly.” He shoved one more piece into his mouth and reached for the wineglass. “I shut it up with wine, though.”
Charlotte smirked. “I thought you may have had wine earlier.”
“Are my teeth red?” he asked, scrunching up his nose.
“Very.”
“Maybe it’s better that Emma went upstairs, then. I’m sure she’d think that I was out enjoying myself rather than suffering through a meal with someone I’ll probably never see again.”
“Were you really not enjoying yourself? Even a little?”
“Do I ever enjoy talking with anyone in our social circle? Aside from you, I mean.”
“I’m not even in that circle now,” she said, her voice tinged with pain. Shaking her head, she took a sip of wine. “Sorry.”
“I still think that you belong.”
“If I had found this position under other circumstances, then maybe that would be true.”
Arthur pursed his lips, trying to think of a counter. But Charlotte was right. She hadn’t become a private tutor because her family simply hadn’t been able to afford to keep her home while she was still unmarried, but because she never wanted to marry. And Charlotte’s parents hadnotbeen willing to budge on their expectations for her on that. Charlotte Fields was meant to have found a nice, respectable man to marry so she could then stay hometo raise nice, respectable children and manage a nice, respectable household. But Charlotte hadn’t been interested in that. At all. And so, she had left. Against their wishes.
