Lord Haverley’s expression twisted into a smirk. ‘A month, then. When I return, you’ll see sense—or regret it.’ He straightened, tapping his cane against his boot. ‘I do not take kindly to being made a fool of, Miss Walker,’ he added, his eyes sliding over her with insolent leisure. ‘And I always collect what’s owed. When I return, I shall expect a different answer.’
He gave a curt bow and stomped from the room, leaving a trail of cigar smoke and wounded pride.
The moment the door slammed, Mrs Walker rounded on her daughter like a hawk. ‘Obstinate, wilful, evil child! How dare you humiliate me in my own house!’
Charlotte remained still, her hands clasped before her. ‘It has been a single day since Papa’s funeral, and already you are selling me off. I heard you—“our previous arrangement,” you said. Were you planning this while he was still breathing?’
Her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘Watch your tongue. Everything I do, I do for this family.’
‘For yourself,’ Charlotte corrected softly. ‘You never cared what he wanted, or what I wanted. Only how it looked to others.’
Mrs Walker’s face purpled. ‘Oh, you foolish girl! Lord Haverley is rich! You would be set for life. So what if he is not handsome or charming? You need only endure him for a few years. Men tire of their wives soon enough.’
‘Charming sentiment,’ Charlotte said drily.
Her mother continued pacing the carpet in agitated circles. ‘He offered to return your dowry outright. Do you not see what that means? We could pay your father’s debts—secure my...our fortune. You would be doing your duty.’
Charlotte drew a slow breath. ‘With all due respect, Mother, I cannot marry that man. My sisters are married and their futures secure, and you will have your widow’s allowance besides—if only you would learn to live within it. And my dowry belongs to me, not you.’
That struck home. Mrs Walker’s complexion darkened to a most alarming shade of crimson. ‘How dare you speak to me of money! Insolent creature! I will disown you. Until you agree to marry him, you are dead to me—do you hear? Dead!’
Charlotte’s lips curved faintly. ‘You have said that before.’
But as the words left her mouth, the familiar ache of loss tugged at her again. Her father was gone; there would be no gentle mediator this time. Perhaps her mother truly meant it now.
Mrs Walker, seeing the flicker of doubt, pounced. ‘That is correct, Miss Charlotte Jane Walker. You shall never call me Mother again—not until you obey.’
Charlotte looked at her—truly looked—and saw, for the first time, the full measure of the woman’s vanity and fear: the tightness around the mouth, the desperate gleam in her eyes. The love was gone; perhaps it had never been there.
Something inside Charlotte hardened—and, paradoxically, lightened. She straightened her spine. ‘You may disown me if you wish, Mother,’ she said quietly. ‘I shall not relent. But know this—I will always be your daughter, and I love you. Even if you cast me off, I shall never cast you away.’
For a heartbeat, Mrs Walker faltered. Her mouth quivered, though whether from rage or something perilously close to shame, Charlotte could not tell.
Then the shutters closed.
‘Go to your room,’ she said harshly. ‘I do not wish to look at your face.’
Charlotte bowed her head—not in submission, but in farewell—and turned to go.
At the doorway she paused, taking in the parlour: the drawn curtains, the fading scent of lilies, the empty chair where her father used to sit with his newspaper and quiet smile.
The room seemed smaller now, as if her father’s presence had been the very thing holding it together.
Her sisters hovered in the hall like eager spectators at a play. Charlotte gave them a calm, level look that made them both shrink back.
Something fundamental shifted within her, like a key turning in a long-stuck lock.
She climbed the staircase slowly, step by step, her head held high though her heart ached.
She had lost her father that week.
And now she had lost her mother too.
Chapter 8
Charlotte was trapped in her chamber. Her mother would not yield—and neither would she. They were locked in a battle of wills.
And now, quite literally, a bolt had been fixed to the outside of her door, and only Sarah was permitted to bring her bread and water once a day and attend to her basic needs. Sarah did attempt to smuggle in more food when she was not being watched, but this was seldom possible, as Charlotte’s mother was liable to check.
