Going into Alnwick would have been lovely, and she could have also arranged for a meeting with her solicitor, but Charlotte had watched Christopher receive the post every morning and knew he was intercepting any invitations directed to her. He’d likely made it clear to the modiste and the vicar’s wife that they could see Charlotte only at the castle.
As they entered the room, Charlotte called for tea. She gestured to the ladies to take a seat and then settled into a chair opposite. She longed to tell Rebekah all her problems. She wanted someone to listen to her, to confirm that although she loved Alex, it was best to forget him. It was the best way to protect him; she’d told herself that every morning and every evening since he’d been banished from her presence.
Since she’d given in to Christopher’s plan, things had never gone so smoothly between him and herself. He was all politeness and at times kind, doting, and even complimentary toward her—everything she’d always found lacking in him as a brother.
Her mother, too, had favored her with compliments and encouragement, and it was clear that Lord Ainscough had met with Mother’s standards for a future son-in-law. In turn, he seemed pleased with Charlotte’s mother, friendly with her brother, and constantly appreciative and sweet toward her. She really ought to be grateful, but—
“So.” Mrs. Dunsdale interrupted her thoughts, glancing pointedly at the tea tray in front of them and then at Charlotte.
Had Charlotte really allowed her mind to fly off for so very long that a servant had already brought the tea? “My goodness. Pardon my woolgathering.” Charlotte took the kettle quickly and began to pour. “You know, it has been so busy around here that I haven’t had time to hear myself think, and I do believe my brain finally caught up with me.”
“Naturally,” Rebekah said. “It must be quite exciting with so many visitors.”
“Perhaps,” she answered, only half hiding her sigh. “I do miss having some quiet in my life.”
Rebekah studied her intently, searching her eyes. Did the woman have an inkling of the turmoil that existed in her soul? That it wasn’tjustquiet that had gone missing? The vicar’s wife patted Charlotte’s hand. “I am sure preparing for such a grand event has been stressful for you.” She smiled. “I do have a good report on the musicians though. All of them are prepared to play and will arrive a half hour early for the ball in a few days.”
“Splendid,” Charlotte said, moving to the writing table in the corner and pulling out a sheet to take a few notes. They verified the instruments and the duration of the sets. “And you’ve made sure they will all wear the same livery?”
Rebekah turned to Mrs. Dunsdale, whose eyes lit up. “Yes,” the dressmaker said. “It is the Stuart-era fashion, just as you asked.” She finished her tea cake in a swift bite and opened her carpet bag. “But my crowning achievement is this.” She slowly withdrew a waterfall of iridescent cerulean fabric, and as she stood to show its full length, Charlotte recognized the many feathers that draped down the back of the bodice. Then Mrs. Dunsdale withdrew something wrapped in paper. “Wait until you behold the magnificence!” With nimble fingers, she lifted the paper and raised a feather-lined, jewel-encrusted mask near her eyes. Small gold piping outlined each opening, and the whole thing appeared to glitter. It was far more extravagant than Charlotte had ever imagined, and it was utterly beautiful.
“It is stunning,” Charlotte said breathlessly.
“And I have a whole bag of matching feathers for your hair.”
Charlotte stood and hugged Mrs. Dunsdale. “You’ve outdone yourself. And that mask—I’ve never seen something so exquisite! I know fewer masks are in vogue as far as the Queen’s balls are concerned, but as my mother has told the guests to come as Shakespearean as possible, it is perfection.”
Mrs. Dunsdale smiled. “Miss Roylance, no matter how beautiful, a dress is only a dress until someone tries it on.” She clapped her hands together, her whole being in raptures. “Rebekah, would you shut the doors and draw the curtains?” She turned back to Charlotte. “You will give it life!”
Charlotte stood and Rebekah moved to the doors to follow her orders and closed the curtains so Charlotte could don the dress.
“This feels like a work of art more than a ball gown.” Charlotte glanced down at her feather-lined shoulders.
When the dress fitting was finished, Charlotte thanked them both for coming. She wished she could spend the rest of the afternoon with these ladies instead of subjecting herself to singing along to Lady Eloise’s perfectly articulate piano playing.
As Mrs. Dunsdale collected her things and packed her sewing bag, Rebekah started to walk toward her, her form boasting a bump at her middle. Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy toward her friend. Rebekah had a husband she loved and the promise of a child on the way. Oh, to be so content with one’s situation.
Mrs. Dunsdale was still carefully stowing the dress when Charlotte felt a folded paper slip into her hands. Rebekah lifted one hand to her lips and gave a purposeful look. Charlotte’s brow furrowed, but understanding it was to be a secret, she tucked the note between the folds of her skirt and her bodice and nodded.
From across the room, Mrs. Dunsdale spoke. “I’ll make these few changes tonight and send the finished gown and mask here tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte breathed.
An exceptional dress worked wonders on a distressed soul. Now she finally possessed a reason to find joy at the ball. But the letter that lay tucked into her dress had her wondering, and as soon as Mrs. Dunsdale and Rebekah left, Charlotte peeked into the passageway. When she saw no one, she snuck across the corridor into the study. The light in the room was dim with most of the curtains drawn, but she shut the door behind her, nestled near the fireplace, and pried open the seal.
My Dearest Charlotte,
At just the salutation her heart jumped into her throat. Alex had found a way to communicate with her. She attempted to still her breathing and read on.
I hope and pray you have been well these past days. Our time in the woods replays in a frequent circuit through my mind, and more than once I’ve wished to find some way to sneak into the castle so that I might see you again and enjoy another long conversation.
If we had all the ability to freely converse, I’d write many questions and await with excitement your answers. But, as I am unsure of your ability to reply, I will direct my remarks to only the most important.
My feelings for you have only grown in our absence from each other, and though it is bold, I still wish for what I spoke of in the woods. I intend to find a way to see you. I simply cannot let your brother steal you away. I will not agree to his ridiculous demand that I vanish.
I give you my word that I will act with the utmost care and that I will not stop until I have seen you again.
At such conviction, such fervor, her heart erupted into a wild palpitation. He still wished to see her!
