Yet somehow, Charlotte doubted matters would prove so simple.
Feeling restless, she retrieved the folded parchment Matthew Stanley had once pressed into her keeping—the page she had hidden beneath her mattress ever since.
The cipher key.
She unfolded it once more and stared down at the blank page.
Nothing.
As though the thing mocked her.
With a weary sigh, she tucked it absently into the pocket of her nightgown before climbing into bed, grateful at least for the warmth of the bedpan.
Chapter 33
The next day, the house party was occupied with preparations for the ball.
Most of the guests slept late; only a few of the younger misses ventured out for a stroll in the pleasure gardens by way of the morning room terrace before retreating to their rooms once more to be dressed by their maids.
Footmen hurried tirelessly through the corridors carrying steaming water for baths, whilst maids fluttered from room to room fetching ribbons, gloves, jewellery, and luncheon trays for their mistresses.
Much to Charlotte’s frustration, Mrs Wilberforce had entirely commandeered her time. Indeed, Charlotte was practically forced into a bath scented with lavender oils and was not permitted to emerge for nearly an hour.
But despite herself, she found the whole experience rather heavenly.
One of Mrs Wilberforce’s maids lathered her hair with soap whilst vigorously massaging her scalp, until Charlotte felt every ounce of tension dissolve into the warm water.
When she at last stepped from the bath, she noted that she had never looked better—she was practically glowing.
Mrs Wilberforce truly does know how to transform the dowdy, she thought deprecatingly.
The beautiful ball gown had arrived earlier, and Charlotte had already admired the modiste’s work, astonished by the flowing cream skirts and the intricate silver beading across the bodice.
The maid used a heated iron from the fire to form artful ringlets and piled her hair high in a regal fashion. The work took an age, and Charlotte grew restless, fidgeting in her seat. At last, the maid stepped back with an expression of deep satisfaction.
‘You look perfect, m’lady,’ she declared.
Amused by such enthusiasm, Charlotte dismissed her with a generous gratuity. Yet when she finally stood before the looking glass herself, even she was momentarily startled.
The pale, drab governess she had been only days before, seemed entirely gone.
In her place stood a young woman with a radiant complexion, glittering eyes, and an air of quiet elegance she scarcely recognised as her own.
Sarah and Tom arrived just as she prepared to join the other guests.
‘Oh my, miss,’ Sarah said, teary-eyed, ‘if only you had dressed this way when your father lived, you would have been married years ago.’
The remark echoed Charlotte’s own private thoughts from days before.
Charlotte turned to leave as Tom approached and stroked her silk skirts with childish fascination.
‘You look very pretty, Miss Lucas,’ he said earnestly.
She laughed softly. ‘Master Tom, if you continue dispensing compliments in such a manner when you are older, you shallbreak hearts all over England. But I thank you kindly.’ She gave a small twirl for his benefit.
Tom darted off to admire the giant chandeliers blazing in the ballroom before the dancing commenced.
Charlotte watched him go with a faint sigh. She had grown unexpectedly attached to the child and could not help worrying over how distressed he might be once the truth about the engagement came to light.
