Nathaniel sliced through a piece of meat with precision as he spoke. Charlotte watched him cut it into a perfect square and then pierce it with his fork.
“Perhaps we can talk more about horses tomorrow, Edmund. You mentioned an interest in poetry earlier; perhaps you could talk more about that? I find that it’s an area in which I’m lacking. I would welcome some recommendations,” Alfred said.
“I knew a poet once,” Agatha slurped some soup. Beside her, Beatrice wore a look of disgust. “He wrote one about me. Now, give me a moment, and I’ll think of it…” She trailed away.
“This could take her hours,” Edmund muttered.
“Can I try that?” Clara whispered, pointing to a yellow vegetable. Charlotte nodded and snuck a piece to Clara, who giggled with delight. She didn’t mind offering Clara vegetables; the problem came when Clara wanted other things, like rich pies and fatty meats. Clara was also eyeing some desserts as the side table was adorned with sweet treats.
Charlotte had already promised Clara some as Mary had given her permission beforehand, but Clara didn’t know this. Charlotte tried her best to avert her gaze from Nathaniel, but since he was so close, it was impossible not to see him.
He bristled with unease, tutting and making admonishing expressions every time Charlotte smuggled something to Clara. Unlike before, Charlotte was feeling a little more boisterous. Shedid not seek to isolate herself, nor did she intend to remain as quiet as before.
Nathaniel might have thought he had the upper hand, but she was going to show him that she would not be cowed by his surreptitious threats.
“I think it’s wonderful that you have such an extensive library. I don’t suppose you happen to have any books on plants or herbs?” she asked.
“I’m sure we do,” Alfred replied, “although I wouldn’t know any from memory. I can’t say that is an area in which I’m well-versed.”
“Not many people are,” Edmund said, “but my dear sister seems to have appointed herself an expert. Not that it provides compelling dinner conversation, as I have warned her many times before.”
“Knowledge is always interesting, especially when delivered by an expert,” Charlotte offered, and she noticed how Nathaniel’s eye twitched. She imagined he was not accustomed to people speaking so freely instead of meekly bowing to another’s words.
“I remember now!” Agatha exclaimed, and she was so enthused that she flicked her spoon, spilling some soup onto the table. Beatrice gasped and grabbed whatever she could find to mop up the small mess, glaring at Agatha.
Agatha began reciting the poem, but she only got a few words in before she looked dismayed and announced that she had forgotten.
“Sometimes it’s a wonder she can remember her own name,” Edmund said.
“Perhaps we should talk about the wedding since we are all here,” Mary suggested.
Charlotte noticed the way Alfred looked toward Nathaniel. Had he said anything about the kiss? She sipped some water, hoping that it would ease the tightness inside. In truth, she did not mind Clara eating off her plate, as her appetite wasn’t as large as normal.
“There is one subject we haven’t broached yet, and that is the guest list. I would like to invite some friends from town. They have all expressed how happy they are for me, and they would like to celebrate with me.”
“The more the merrier,” Edmund said, raising his glass. Charlotte wasn’t sure if there was wine in it or not, but Edmund could have a good time either way.
“I don’t think we should turn away anyone who is going to help us celebrate,” Mary agreed, her smile shining as she gazed toward Alfred. Beatrice did not offer an opinion as she was still tending to the mess while Agatha was deep in thought, attempting to recover the lost poem from her mind.
Lydia was quiet, deferring to the louder members of the family, while Clara was more interested in the food than anything else. She had stopped trying to hide her pilfering. At regular intervals, Charlotte noticed a small hand darting across her plate and nipping back, followed by the sounds of chewing.
“I think it might be best if we kept to a small ceremony, family only. You can celebrate with your friends another time,” Nathaniel declared, his tone leaving little room for argument.
Alfred sank back in his chair and remained silent. Mary looked chastised. Charlotte waited for either of them to speak up, but they accepted Nathaniel’s judgment without question. Charlotte gripped her fork tightly and stabbed a chunk of meat.
Indignation flared within her. The arrogant tone echoed the way he had spoken to her before. He treated people as though they were his minions, as though he were a giant and they were just ants, as though this world was his domain and everyone else had to abide by his rules.
While Charlotte did not want to shatter any social graces, she also could not, in good conscience, sit by and listen to Nathaniel stomp over Alfred and Mary’s wishes like a wayward child in a flower patch.
“Perhaps Alfred and Mary should be the ones to decide how they celebrate. It is their wedding after all, or should we be congratulating you too, Your Grace?”
The words rushed out of her lips before she could close them. A sense of satisfaction washed over her, but it was short-lived. There was an audible gasp from Beatrice. A soft chortle from Agatha. Mary looked down; Alfred looked up. Edmund arched his eyebrows, and Lydia remained silent. Clara acted as though nothing had happened.
And Nathaniel stared.
Oh, how he stared.
His gaze was withering, and if it had had any physical force behind it, Charlotte was certain she would have been forced out of the room and perhaps out of the estate entirely.
