Charlotte refused to give in to her feelings of inadequacy. After all, this girl had been doing this her whole life. Charlotte was just beginning. “When you’re finished, I will show you to the chamber that will serve as Henry’s nursery.”
She had to start somewhere. Rather than begrudging this girl’s presence, as the wounded parts of her stubbornly desired, she would try to learn from her instead.
***
Charlotte paced in her bedchamber’s solitude as the events of the past several hours left her mind reeling.
Had it really been only two days since Roland’s death?
It did not seem possible, yet just yesterday she and Henry had arrived at Hollythorne House, and she’d begun tackling the tasks that lay before her. Now the servants were here. Everything was progressing at a mind-numbing tempo, but she could not slow the pace. Her entire plan could collapse at any time. And she simply would not let that happen.
One day she’d be able to relax and let down her guard. One day she and Henry would be at peace in their own home. But it had only been two days, and she dare not underestimate Silas Prior.
She needed to return to the kitchen to go over the list of items that needed to be purchased in the village, but as she turned toleave the chamber, she spied the bound parcel of Anthony’s notes atop her desk.
She debated the wisdom of looking inside.
Opening it would be like opening the door to her past—potentially allowing emotions to rekindle and gain power. Resisting such temptation would be prudent. But the call for comfort and familiarity was too great.
With the bundle in hand she sat on the quilts on her bed. Slowly she released the ribbon, and as the paper fell away, memories sprung to life.
The heather bloom he’d picked and tucked in her hair, now pressed and preserved.
A smooth, small rock that shimmered in the light.
The notes he’d written asking her to meet him.
Even Tor. Sunset.
Even the penmanship of his simple missive boasted a confidence that had not changed.
How different her life could have been if they would have chosen each other. She had no doubt Anthony would have been a kind and gentle husband.
What would it have been like?
She carefully returned the contents to the parcel, retied the ribbon, and tucked it between the mattress tick and the bedstead. As she straightened and turned, her gaze caught her reflection in the small, mottled looking glass that hung on the wall next to her bed. She touched her fingertips to her temple. Then her lips.
How pale she was.
Perhaps it was the high-necked ebony gown of heavy brocadethat brought about her almost ghoulish appearance, but as she pivoted to view her face from a different angle, she noted the hollow of her cheeks. The grim circles beneath her eyes. How different she looked from that wild and free girl Anthony would recall. Then her cheeks had always been pink, her skin had possessed a sunbathed hue, and freckles had kissed the bridge of her nose.
But now she looked like a different person.
What was more, shefeltlike a different person.
How she wished that, even for just a moment, she could recapture that carefree feeling of youth—of excitement and passion, of enthusiastic impatience for life to begin. Now, instead of feeling like the world was at her fingertips, she felt like a meager rowboat at the mercy of stormy seas, being pushed and pulled with their every whim.
She smoothed her hair and coiled it into a chignon and pinned it in place. She pinched her cheeks for color before turning to reach for her shawl. All thoughts of the past had to be kept at bay, especially because she needed to find Anthony and speak with him about arrangements for Sutcliffe to travel to Leeds to attempt to sell the jewels.
After settling her shawl about her shoulders, Charlotte stepped from her chamber. She collected Henry from the nursery and made her way down to the kitchen, where she found Mr.Timmons seated at the table with a bowl of stew before him.
He stood immediately upon her entrance and offered a slight bow.
She’d not interacted with Mr. Timmons much, but after hearing Sutcliffe’s opinions, she was curious about the other manwho’d been assigned to watch over them. He was not nearly as tall as Anthony, and he boasted thick sandy hair and light chestnut eyes. A deep dimple marked his clean-shaven left cheek, and broad shoulders and a cleft in his chin added to his apparent strength. She could see why Sutcliffe would be drawn to him.
She did not dare allow her gaze to drop to his hand.
“Mrs.Prior,” he greeted.
