‘Would you like a bedtime story?’
He nodded enthusiastically. ‘No one reads me stories except you.’
‘Well, that’s a crying shame. My father used to read to me every night.’ A tightness gripped her chest at the memory.
She fetched a book from the schoolroom and read aloud. Her voice was gentle and soothing, and soon enough the boy drifted off to sleep. Charlotte hoped he was softening towards her and perhaps letting her into his little world.
The next morning, she was woken by shrieking from Tom’s room.
‘You wicked boy! At your age—it’s just shameful!’ Mrs Dent’s voice rang through the corridor.
Charlotte rushed in to find Tom cowering in the corner while Mrs Dent pointed furiously at a wet patch on the mattress.
‘I’ve got enough to do, and now this! As if I do not have a hundred other things on my plate—!’
‘That’s enough, Mrs Dent,’ Charlotte interrupted, her voice sharper than intended. ‘Please stop your caterwauling.’
Mrs Dent gaped at her. ‘How dare you speak to me that way! I shall report you to Mrs Wilberforce. To Lord Stanley himself!’
Charlotte crossed her arms. ‘Go ahead.’
With a huff, Mrs Dent stormed out.
Charlotte turned to Tom. ‘Come on, no need to be frightened. It’s not your fault. Now help me change the sheets.’
The boy nodded gratefully.
Charlotte continued her morning routine with Tom and managed to make more progress with his reading; he was learning fast. She suspected he had learnt some reading before but had not practised in a while. He seemed to be recalling some of his prior lessons now.
Sarah joined them for luncheon, looking a little worn out.
‘I do not know why they are so short on servants. There are plenty of people looking for work,’ Sarah bemoaned as she massaged her arms. ‘I was made to wash all the dishes, then help the cook.’
Charlotte gave her a pitying look. ‘Let us hope they find a replacement soon.’
Sarah sniffed. ‘Maybe Lucy ran away to get away from that old crone, Mrs Dent. I am sure that woman does not know how to smile. The rest of the staff despise her too.’
Charlotte grimaced. ‘I may have contributed to her ill temper today. I had a slight argument with her.’
‘Well, they cannot dismiss you. I am certain they will be hard-pressed to find anyone willing to replace you.’ She inclined her head towards the boy and rolled her eyes.
Charlotte smiled; despite everything, the child was beginning to grow upon her.
‘I would wager the old crone will not have the courage to complain to Lord Stanley. Mrs Wilberforce all but reveres you for remaining longer than a month,’ Sarah declared confidently, only to be immediately contradicted when a footman appeared at the door.
Charlotte was summoned to the study.
Her heart sank.Oh no. If she were to be dismissed, what would become of her? Must she truly resort to the workhouse?
But Sarah only waved a hand dismissively. ‘Do not underestimate yourself. Stand your ground—and do not allow that woman the advantage.’
At this, Charlotte felt a wrench as she recalled her father’s parting counsel:stand your ground. She managed a faint smile and made her way to the study as though walking in a funeral procession. Her recent encounters with Lord Stanley returned to her mind—each more mortifying than the last.
He already considers you half-witted and wholly incompetent—and now this.
Murmuring a silent prayer, she tapped lightly upon the door.
‘Come in,’ came the deep voice from within.
