Too anxious to sleep, I picked away at my mess of hair. I needed to learn to style it on my own. It had always been a crowning feature of mine, and it was imperative that I learn to showcase it properly.
After nearly an hour, I threw the brush at the wall in frustration. Several spiders emerged from a crack near where my brush hit, skittering across the floor toward me. Shrieking,I climbed on top of my bed. I brought my knees to my chest and buried my face in my skirts. Then I cried because there was nothing I could do to stop what was coming. There was no way to stop the spiders. And there was no way I could achieve what Mama expected of me. Securing a fortuitous match had always been a dream of mine, but now it was an obligation.
And there was no such thing as an obligatory dream.
Chapter Four
“I would challenge you to a battle of wits,
but I see you are unarmed.”
Morning light penetrated my eyelids, just a dim glow from behind the dusty curtains of my new bedchamber. I groaned, peeling my eyes open. I had almost forgotten where I was. I was still dressed in my white muslin from yesterday, with my hair hanging loose and tangled. That needed to change.
I hurried over to my trunk with weak legs. Mama had only allowed us each to keep six dresses, and thankfully, I had kept my most flattering day dress—robin’s egg blue with ivory trim around the sleeves, neckline, and waist. Now came the difficult part.
“Clara!” I ran toward her bedchamber and pushed open the door. She stood in front of her mirror, struggling to fasten the back of her dress, arms bent awkwardly over her shoulders. I stopped in awe. “How did you do that on your own?” She was almost completely dressed. I couldn’t even begin to undress myself without a maid to assist me with the buttons and laces.
She gave a huffed breath. Sweat shone on her forehead as she wiped her hair from her eyes. “It isn’t so difficult. And I have long arms.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “When you are finished, come assist me with mine.”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
I whirled around. “No?”
She tightened her jaw. Only then did I notice the puffy, redness of her eyes. “Not if youdemandit. Not everything is about you anymore, Charlotte. Mama is not here to favor you. She is not here to treat you like a princess and me like a burden. She abandoned us both. I won’t accept orders from you ever again, and if you continue to be selfish then I will only dress myself, and only cook for myself, and only kill spiders in my own room. I heard you shrieking last night.”
The weight of her words settled over me like an iron blanket, heavy and uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet, my fists curling tightly at my sides. I needed her help, but I wasn’t about to admit that. My pride surged within me. “Very well. I will dress myself. We leave for the village in one hour.”
I stalked from the room, uneasy for a reason I couldn’t name. Having an ally in this strange place was necessary, but how could I win Clara’s respect without sacrificing my own? I was not a weak, silly girl who depended on her little sister. I was beautiful, capable, and strong-willed. And I always achieved what I wanted.
Grumbling, I reached behind my back toward the buttons of my dress. I considered finding Miss Bentford to help me, but if Clara saw that then my pride would take an even greater hit. After nearly thirty minutes of determined effort, I was wearing the robin’s egg gown, wiping sweat from my own forehead.
Now the hair.
I settled on a simple style I had practiced the night before. Luckily I had brought an entire box of pins with me, so I could hide the many stray hairs and mistakes. I stared at my reflection and willed myself to be confident.
Before leaving my room, I dug through my things and withdrew a familiar sheet of parchment. Under the words,Always display refinement, even while amongst the unrefined,I scribbled one sentence:
Always wear a bonnet out of doors. A mess of hair must always be concealed.
The weather was surprisingly calm when Clara, Miss Bentford, and I walked down the steps of our pitiful cottage. It would be a long walk to the village, and the air, although calm, sent a chill through my cloak. I took it as a positive thing. Combined with the exercise, the cold would give more color to my cheeks. I was surprised Mama had found such a secluded cottage for us. As we came closer to the village, I noticed that aside from our lonely home, many of the other small houses were grouped together as if they comprised a social circle I wasn’t invited to. How far did Lord Trowbridge’s property extend?
I eyed the large house as we passed, standing up a little straighter. The closer view was enough to take my breath away. The stone was darkened and weather-worn, but the many windows and grand pillars gave it a sophistication that I was immediately drawn to. My pulse beat a little faster. I could only imagine how mysterious the home would look in winter, edged in frost and surrounded by leafless trees.
“How am I to meet the earl?” I whispered, leaning close to Clara. I didn’t know why, but I felt like the house would hear me if I spoke too loudly.
Clara bit her lower lip in thought. “We must gather more information about him first. Surely some of the people we meet in the village will know of him.”
I gave a slow nod, content with that plan. I was certain the house was haunted, and I wouldn’t dare call it beautiful, yet it was the grandest thing I could hope for now. It was myonlyhope, in fact. My stomach continued to sink.
As we walked, Clara prattled on about the novel she was reading, and how everything she saw reminded her of it. It was exhausting.
“And that house is like the home of the poor Wilshire family. And the ruins of Dunstanburgh castle were once exactly like Helmsway castle, to be sure. Oh! And that woman reminds me precisely of the eldest Wilshire daughter.”
Miss Bentford devoured every word, agreeing with each of Clara’s comparisons. The two walked arm in arm, but I remained a few feet away. I had no wish to be included in their ridiculous conversation, yet I felt a pang of isolation. I would have to grow accustomed to it. I would not allow myself to become silly only to feel included.
“Do you read many books, Charlotte?” Miss Bentford asked with a much-too-cheerful grin.
