Agatha tittered with laughter and waved an embarrassed hand in the air.
“That’s too kind of you, but those days are long behind me. Your grandfather won my heart, and he took my love with him when he passed. Charlotte, feel free to borrow one of my brooches for the evening. It would complete your outfit. I really wish you had allowed me to buy you a dress from the modiste.”
“This one suits me fine,” Charlotte said. “While I appreciate your kindness, I would never be able to do them as much justice as you and Lydia can.”
“Nonsense, you are far too modest to the point where it’s unbecoming.” Agatha wagged a finger in the air. “Now, both ofyou, come and pick something to wear.” She rattled the box of brooches.
Lydia came over eagerly and rummaged through the box, picking out a small rabbit, smiling delightedly.
“Go on, Charlotte,” Agatha urged, unwilling to put up with Charlotte’s reluctance. “I remember when you were younger, I couldn’t keep you out of my jewelry box. You were like a little magpie, always searching for something shiny. On one occasion, you managed to fasten all of them to your dress.”
“Did I really?” Charlotte asked, puzzled. Lydia chortled.
“Most definitely. You were jingling and jangling as you bounced around, happy as anything. Those were good days,” Agatha said, her face falling somewhat, her words falling to a sigh.
Charlotte decided to take a brooch for her grandmother’s sake if nothing else. She dipped her hand into the box and found one that suited her—a demure single flower with a long stem and a single jewel nestled among the small petals. She placed it against her breast.
“There, perfect,” Agatha said. She linked arms with the two of them. “Look at the three of us; it’s such a shame your mother can’t be with us. Let’s make sure we have enough fun to make up for what she’s missing.”
With these words, she led Charlotte and Lydia to the door and got the attention of a servant, indicating that they were ready to be taken to the dining room.
Charlotte’s heartbeat quickened as they approached the dining room in anticipation of seeing Nathaniel again. Their conversation kept echoing in her mind. The lively discussion aboutThe Iliadhad been refreshing, and his willingness to consider her argument showed a different side of him. There had even been a moment of tension, a moment where she thought the kiss was going to be repeated.
The most frustrating thing of all was that she wanted him to kiss her. In that moment, she would have thrown caution to the wind.
What had he done to her?
Something inside her had been undone, and she wasn’t sure how to tighten it again. His kiss was a curse, and she would never be the same after it.
It was strange, though, to think that a curse for her would be a blessing for Lady Honoria. And if Charlotte had been a different woman, it would have been a blessing for her as well.
For now, the best she could do was to endure this visit and then put Nathaniel out of her mind entirely when she returnedto the Stonewood estate. There, she could throw herself into her research and fill her mind with thoughts of plants and herbs rather than this man who had gotten under her skin like a particularly irritating nettle.
Chapter Nineteen
They were announced in the dining hall, where they found the others already present. Edmund and Alfred were in deep conversation while Mary stood beside Alfred, looking as though she belonged there. Clara was staring at the dessert tray. Nathaniel was beside her.
Charlotte assumed he was standing guard, making sure that Clara would not pluck a cherry from a bun or swipe her finger through the cake’s icing. Then, Nathaniel bent down and said something to Clara. Clara giggled loudly.
Perhaps he was not being so strict after all.
“Oh, my goodness, I had a feeling you were a woman of good taste, and now, it’s been proven!” Agatha said loudly, rushing toward Beatrice. Charlotte watched as Beatrice rose slowly to greet Agatha. It was as though she was moving through treacle; her movements were so slow.
The two women were like reflections of each other, as Beatrice was wearing a dress strikingly similar to Agatha’s. There might well have been subtle differences, but a simple glance was not enough to discern any. Beatrice’s face fell, looking even paler than usual. She blinked in astonishment as Agatha came up to her with open arms.
Agatha embraced Beatrice as though they were old friends and kissed her on both cheeks.
“I wish I had known what you were wearing. I would have chosen something different,” Beatrice said.
“Nonsense, this is wonderful; it shows that both our families share similarities. A good match indeed!” Agatha cried out. “And we must sit together tonight. There is a story I must tell you about a party where two men arrived dressed in the same outfit, and there was much misunderstanding.” Agatha looped her arm around Beatrice and led her back to the table.
Agatha signaled to a servant to bring them some champagne. When it arrived, Beatrice took long gulps, almost emptying the glass in a matter of moments. Agatha was moving freely, swaying like a tree in the breeze, whereas Beatrice appeared to be frozen. She forced a polite smile onto her face but looked as though she would rather be anywhere else.
“Dear sisters, how wonderful you both look!” Edmund exclaimed as he excused himself from Alfred’s company and greeted Charlotte and Lydia. He kissed their cheeks and swept his arm across the dining hall. “This hall is fitting for you both.”
The hall was indeed grand. Candelabras were placed at regular intervals across the table, while other candles stood in holders across the walls. The evening light was diminishing, so the outside world was disappearing quickly. Tapestries adorned the walls, and an exquisite cream tablecloth with gold thread sewn in flowery patterns was draped across the table.
The table itself was laden with food of all kinds. There were stuffed peppers, mushrooms, thick slices of mutton, and beef that glistened with succulence. The cutlery gleamed in the light of the candles. Hunger gnawed at Charlotte’s stomach.
