Page 56 of Charmless
Mal finally gave in and agreed to my plan. We arranged a time to meet at the Hawk’s Nest around two the following afternoon. Ordinarily we would have parted with a hug. But Mal’s unrequited feelings for me and my love for Horatio had put a strain on our friendship as I had feared it would. What were we supposed to do now? Shake hands? Bow to each other?
Mal solved the problem by planting a kiss on my cheek and then he disappeared into the darkness. As I turned to head back to the house, I tensed, noticing a candle flicker in my neighbor’s kitchen window. I had not been imagining things. Mrs. Biddlesworth was awake and spying upon me. Had she been watching me and Mal the entire time? I doubted she could have seen or heard much, but it still made me vexed and uneasy. I held up the lantern, so she could see me glaring in her direction.
The candle was hastily snuffed out.
Eleven
Iwoke to an overcast sky the next morning, but at least breakfast proved to be a more cheerful meal than our supper had been. I was surprised to find both of my sisters up before me and Netta had prepared oatmeal. It was a little thin and lumpy, but I praised Netta for her cooking. I was pleased to see her looking much happier than she had last night.
As I helped her dip the oatmeal into bowls, she confided to me in a whisper, “Wonderful news, Ella. Amy seems so much better and guess what? Early this morning, I peeked out my window and saw the Hansons had returned home.”
“That is indeed excellent news,” I said, my own spirits lifting. Perhaps this was a sign that the entire day would go well.
Mal would unmask the Aura Chamber thief and exonerate himself to Horatio’s satisfaction. I might find that missing page for Mal and he could use the orb to find the lost treasure. And who knows? Maybe Florian would decide I was not the right bride for him and cease his pursuit. Horatio could openly declare his love for me, and we would all live happily ever after. I smiled at my wild imagination. But if one was going to be optimistic, there was no point indulging in half measures.
“The Bafton family must have been released as well,” Netta continued in a low voice as she glanced at Amy. My other sister was seated at the kitchen table, stirring a dollop of honey into her tea. “Since Amy has stopped weeping over Prince Dashiel, I thought of suggesting that we call upon the Baftons. But perhaps it is too soon for her to turn her affections back to Fortescue.”
“I think it might be,” I said. While Amy appeared resigned to the loss of her romantic dreams about her prince, she was not her ebullient self either.
But she ate her lumpy oatmeal without complaint. As soon as she had finished, she rose from the table and announced, “I need to go exercise Pookie and Pippa. I have been neglecting them shamefully.”
She rose from the table, inviting Netta to accompany her. The two girls left the kitchen, whispering to each other. Netta made some remark that caused Amy to giggle. The sound of their girlish laughter gladdened my heart. After the disruption the royal ball had created in our lives, I felt there was a chance that our household might finally return to normal.
That hopeful thought lasted until my stepmother straggled into the kitchen. Em was usually most particular about her appearance, but she had buttoned her dressing robe on crooked. Her lace cap sat askew atop her wilting curls, her face pale and forlorn.
She declined the oatmeal and sat across from me, sipping her tea and emitting heavy sighs. All my attempts to engage her in conversation elicited monosyllabic replies until I ventured to mention Lord Stanhope.
“That odious man,” Em snapped. “I have no wish to talk about him!”
Knowing Em, I realized that was exactly what she did want to talk about. After a great deal more of her sipping and sighing,I finally coaxed her to tell me what had happened during his lordship’s visit.
“Chuffy had the impertinence to tell me I needed to stop pestering you about marrying the prince.” Em gave a wounded sniff, looking very much like a plump dove that had her feathers ruffled. “Pester? I am sure I have neverpesteredanyone in the entire course of my life. I could not believe Chuffy could be so unkind or so lacking in good sense. He had the temerity to suggest that Commander Crushington would make you a better husband. A foundling of unknown origins instead of a prince of royal blood! I told Chuffy he must be mad, but he has a poor opinion of all the princes. He called them a parcel of arrogant, selfish brats. Can you imagine that he would dare to say such a thing?”
“I am sorry that his lordship should have expressed himself in a manner you found distressing, Em. But I am gratified to hear that he is on my side in all of this.”
“Iam on your side, Prunella Upton,” my stepmother regarded me fiercely. “Charles Stanhope never had any children of his own so he has no right telling anyone else what he thinks is best for her daughter and so I said to him.”
“Oh, Em.” I groaned. “I cannot believe you quarreled with your devoted old beau over that wretched prince.”
Em affected a careless shrug. “It does not signify. I daresay I was just making a fool of myself. I had no business seeking to rekindle a romance at my age when my only concern should be the welfare of my daughters.”
Em reached across the table and caught my hand firmly in hers. “Ella, dear, are you sure you could not learn to love Prince Florian? He is every young maiden’s dream.”
“More like a recurring nightmare,” I muttered.
“I simply don’t understand you, child.” Em released my hand, regarding me with sad, bewildered eyes. “Even ifCommander Crushington claims to have had proper parents, the rumors persist that he was a foundling. If the truth about that was ever revealed, my dear, you have no idea what it would be like to marry a man who might bring you into disgrace and cause you to lose everything and put the very future of your children in jeopardy.”
I realized from the anguish in her voice that Em was no longer talking about me but recalling her own disastrous marriage to Albert Wendover. Her eyes filled with tears.
“It would quite break my heart to ever see you suffer such a fate.”
“I promise you that I won’t, Em.” I rose from my chair and bent down to give my stepmother a hug. “I don’t care about Horatio’s background, whatever it might be. I only know what kind of a man he is, honest, brave, and true. I love him with all my heart, and I would be honored to be his wife.”
Em rested her head against me with a resigned sigh. “At least he is a Scutcheon commander and not a common soldier. And I would be able to stop worrying you might elope with that scoundrel, Malcolm Hawkridge.”
“You never did need to worry about that.”
Em wiped her eyes and drew away from me. “But everyone in Midtown is bursting with pride at the thought that one of their own will be crowned queen, chosen above all the aristocratic ladies of the Heights. If you do not marry the prince, I do not know how any of us will ever dare show our faces in town again.”
