Betrayal heated my cheeks. “How will we manage without you? We cannot live without a guardian or-or chaperone of any kind.” My voice raised in pitch. “An earl would never court a woman living in such improper circumstances. We won’t be able to attend any events or receive any callers.”
Mama shook her head hard. “Of course I am not sending you alone.” She scoffed. “Don’t be so daft.”
I stared up at her in confusion.
“Mr. Bentford has a sister. An old, unmarried thing, with little to occupy her time. She has agreed to accompany you in my stead. Miss Bentford is awaiting you in the carriage. You met her once, if you do recall.”
I tried to conjure up an image of this Miss Bentford, but found no memory of her. My heart continued to sink as Mama held out her arms to me. I stepped away, hot tears stinging my eyes. I had always found joy in flirting, showcasing my strengths, eliminating my shortcomings. But the idea of a comfortable living now felt so distant, I was strangled by it. I had no instructor by my side. Mama was staying here, coaxing her cousin into providing for her and sending her daughters to a mysterious wasteland with an unknown spinster as a chaperone.
Mama strode forward and handed me an ivory beaded reticule. “Here are sufficient funds for a comfortable living for the next two months. Do take care not to spent it frivolously. After that, we shall evaluate your progress with Lord Trowbridge and determine if staying in Craster any longer is worthwhile.” She moved her hands away nonchalantly, pushing back a stray curl. “Well. The coach is waiting now, my dears. Remember me while you are away. Write often.”
And with that she was inside the house again, a fading image of emerald green. I made a sound, a deep burst of anger and disbelief. Clara looked shocked. I turned my back to Eshersed Park, the only home I’d ever known, and moved toward the carriage, something deep and wild and new burning in my limbs as I walked. How could Mama do this to us? Why could we not stay with Mr. Bentford? None of it made sense. Was the Earl of Trowbridge truly such a prize that could not be found elsewhere? How was I to win him without Mama’s help?
Clara stepped into the carriage behind me. I chose the seat opposite of Miss Bentford, leaving Clara the space beside her. The seats were cold and the interior of the carriage smelled of rusted metal. Miss Bentford was just as unfamiliar as I had expected, though not quite as aged. She must have been near forty, though her choice of fashion suggested fifty. Her white ruffled collar grazed her chin, her dark hair coiled up into a tight knot. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, as if she were about to embark on an adventure of some sort. Her rosy cheeks shone like the skin of an apple, hazel eyes darting between Clara and me.
“My dear Miss Lyons and Miss Clara.” She smiled. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
So we had been acquainted before. I couldn’t imagine when or where. Her face was entirely forgettable, even with those shiny apple cheeks of hers. “Indeed,” I mumbled. The word barely made it past my tight throat.
The carriage moved forward, and a surge of desperation rose in my chest.
Clara’s face was blank and unreadable, and it bothered me. She was to be my only companion in Craster besides Miss Bentford. I considered neither my friend.
“Do you realize we are likely to never return?” I said. “We could be away for years.” When she didn’t respond, I raised my voice. “Our parents are to become strangers to us! Does that not bother you?” Miss Bentford jumped, watching the exchange with a furrowed brow.
Clara glanced at me wearily. “Have they ever been anything but?” Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked away, and she turned back to the window.
I tried to ignore her comment, but it ate away at me from the inside. Mama had just as much affection for me as any loving mother would! She wanted the best for me, and nothing Clarasaid could change what I knew. So I closeted the unnecessary concern and focused on a new one.
“Where is our maid?” I asked.
Miss Bentford took it upon herself to reply. “She is not accompanying us.”
I gasped, panic hitting me forcefully. “What? That cannot be true.”
“It is,” Clara muttered in a weak voice. “I overheard Mama this morning. She is keeping Anna as her own lady’s maid; she has released the others and will depend upon Mr. Bentford’s staff for now.”
“But who will arrange my hair? Who will help us cook, clean, dress? How does Mama suppose I can catch a husband without a maid?”
Clara didn’t say anything. I pressed my head against my seat, forgetting the restraints of a proper lady. How had so much misfortune hit me this quickly? It was hard to believe. So much weight was on my shoulders I could hardly bear it. Despite how little I understood, I needed to formulate a plan. I had many long days of travel ahead of me, so with enough thought, I was bound to gain some advantage over my situation. As we drove closer to the unknown, I sank deeper into my despair and stayed there. It was a place I had never been before, and I found I didn’t like it. Not at all.
I never knew time could pass so slowly. A day felt like a week and a week felt like a month. We stopped at a different inn every night, and each was stuffy, old, and full of weary, sweating travelers.
After a few days, I accepted that I was one of them.
Clara and I hardly spoke. Miss Bentford spoke too much. By the ninth day, the coachman informed us that we would arrive in Craster that afternoon. Northern England was like a stranger to me, and what I might find there was a constant, maddeningweight on my mind. What would our new home be like? How was I to find a husband who was able and willing to save us from ruin?
The scenery out my window was desolate, the colors dull. The air was thicker, as if it were wearing a cloak of mist. We traveled close to the coast, and I saw the sea in the distance. I had always known the sea to be blue, but today it was grey. Prickly, dying plants dotted the scene like ugly sores. I almost cried. Although I had been asleep longer than I had been awake for so many days, I leaned back and drifted off again, dreaming of the life I could no longer have.
“Charlotte!” I awoke to Clara’s raspy voice. “We’ve arrived.”
I sat up, suddenly desperate to stretch my legs. Rain blew on the windows of the carriage, making it difficult to see outside. Shaking my legs to stop their tingling, I stood, unlatching the door and climbing out of the carriage without waiting for assistance. My first impression of the town was not what I had expected. It was worse.
My eyes widened at the wild scene before me. Cold, wet winds hit my face, stole my breath, and tossed my skirts. I tightened the carriage blanket around me and gaped at the house ahead. It was sosmall. A cottage would be an appropriate name for the structure. Wet, gnarled vines formed a net over the grey stone facade. There were only four windows, two on the lower level and two on the upper. A dismayed whimper formed in my throat, but I didn’t let it escape.
I could see the coast from here, where bright roofed houses stood side by side, as if huddling together to stay warm. In a brief moment of optimism, I thanked fate for not finding mein a house like that. The ruins of a castle stood on a remote headland in the distance, blurred by the rain. I squinted through the raindrops at another lumbering structure not far beyond our cottage. Its beige stone towered up and up, and it had at least five times the windows of our cottage. Did the estate belong to Lord Trowbridge?
Were we his tenants?
