Charity stared after Edward’s retreating figure, her fingers locked around the cross at her throat. For the first time, Charity understood that her parents’ deaths were not the end of her old life, but rather they were the beginning of a new captivity.
“He can try,” Charity said at last.
“That’s all you have to say?” Augusta turned on her.
“What do you want me to say?” Charity asked, still watching Edward’s back. “That he is wrong? Saying it does not change what he intends.”
“Then what do we do?” Augusta’s eyes were bright with tears, and it broke Charity’s heart to see her in this state.
“We do not decide anything today,” she said finally. The most important thing was to clear her mind and then get a better understanding of the situation.
“But he said….”
“I heard him,” Charity cut in, and immediately softened her tone. “I heard every word. But we are not going to stand in this churchyard and fight about it.”
“Are you going to marry soon?” Matilda looked up at them, confused.
“That is not something you need to worry about,” Charity said.
“But Uncle said you must,” Matilda’s forehead creased.
Charity crouched slightly so she was closer to Matilda’s height. “Uncle says many things,” she said carefully. “He does not always get what he wants.”
“But… will you go away?” Matilda’s eyes searched her face.
“No,” Charity said at once and took Matilda’s small hand in both of hers. “Listen to me, I am not leaving you. You and Augusta are with me.”
Augusta’s mouth tightened at the words, and Charity understood why. She was old enough to know the world did not always care what Charity wanted, and they were orphan girls now. Still, Augusta leaned down and brushed Matilda’s hair back into place.
“You’re not losing her,” she told Matilda.
“I don’t like Uncle,” Matilda sniffed.
“I don’t think anyone asked you to,” Augusta muttered.
“Augusta,” Charity warned softly.
“I’m fine,” Augusta said, looking away.
She was not fine, and Charity could see it clearly. Charity straightened again, taking Matilda’s hand firmly, but before they could head to their carriage, Temperance Hosmer appeared at their side.
She was one of her friends from the nunnery.
“Charity,” Temperance said quietly. Her eyes flicked toward the carriage rolling down the drive, then back to Charity’s face. “Are you all right? You looked furious from where I was standing.”
Charity tried to answer, but then stopped herself. There was too much to convey.
“We are not all right, and I don’t think we will be, if that man has his way,’ Augusta quipped instead. She was notorious for not keeping her thoughts to herself.
“What did he say?” Temperance questioned immediately. She had been a dear friend of hers at the nunnery, and they had maintained their friendship since getting out of it.
“He announced a match for Charity,” Augusta answered anyway.
“At the funeral?” Temperance wrinkled her nose in disgust. What her Uncle did could not be expected from a gentleman, and surely had their father been alive, he would have been livid at the prospect.
“Yes, because he has no decency,” Augusta rolled her eyes. “I have known him for years, and this behavior of his does not surprise in the least.”
“Is it true?” Temperance turned to Charity, waiting to confirm if it was true.
