Page 16 of The Wilful Widow
“I’ll go, if you need someone to supervise the children,” Charlotte found herself saying. She didn’t think she could bear another minute sitting so close to Alexander yet not having the courage to speak to him. Not when he showed no desire to speak to her.
She rose, smiling at the company who all raised their heads, though in truth she felt embarrassed and under scrutiny. When she’d been young and beautiful, she’d basked in the admiration of such looks, believing – arrogantly, of course – that admiration and envy was behind every pair of eyes.
Since her divorce six years ago, she’d read only condemnation – and occasionally – pity.
“That would be lovely, Lady Highcliff,” Katherine said, politely. “Won’t you come, too, Mr Pemberton?”
Charlotte tried to hide the hopeful look in her expression, swivelling her gaze away from his and pretending interest in finding her bookmark.
“A walk? Why, I’m prepared to brave the weather,” said Miss Huxtable brightly, detaching herself from her conversation and coming forward to rest her hand on Alexander’s arm. “Just give the ladies a moment to change our shoes and fetch something a little warmer for outdoors.”
Charlotte wavered, feeling the pressure of having to make a decision – or rather, change one – as she gazed at Miss Huxtable’s cloying proprietorial self-satisfaction, prior to dashing upstairs to change.
“You go without me,” Charlotte said, waving her hand dismissively as she sank back into her chair. “I only offered so the children would have an adult but I’m sure I’m not needed, now.” She didn’t even look at Alexander as she said it. But her words were directed at him.
No, he certainly didn’t need her at all with Miss Huxtable all but cuddling up to him as if he were the most irresistible man in the world.
What man wouldn’t warm to such overt admiration? Alexander wasn’t immune, she could tell. Of course he’d prefer the girlish, enthusiastic chatter of his betrothed to the lacklustre yet intense woman Charlotte had become. The light had gone out of her. Her aunt had said it only the week before.
“Oh, but you must come!”
To her surprise, it was young Katherine who said it. As if she meant it.
Reluctantly, Charlotte rose. Shewantedto come. She wanted to be near Alexander, even if she didn’t speak to him. There was something about his presence that was calming and fulfilling.
Yet wasn’t that a thought that traded on false hope?
Of course,Alexander didn’t seek her out as they walked. No, he was flanked by Lady Fenton and Miss Huxtable, while Charlotte lagged behind with the three children. She pretended to attend to Katherine’s questions but her attention was focussed on the body language of the adults a few yards ahead.
“It must be very exciting to get married,” Katherine remarked as she matched her footsteps to Charlotte’s. “Even for the fifth time. I heard Aunt Quamby say she’d love to remarry just so she could choose everything all over again.”
“I think perhaps she said she’d choose tomarryagain- notremarry” Charlotte suggested with a smile. “She obviously meant she’d enjoying the process of getting married once again. To your uncle. No one chooses toremarry – another person - unless they have to.”
Young George twisted his neck to look at her. “You didn’t get to choose, did you?” He kicked a stone, frowning. “Mama said you’d had very bad luck in the marriage department but lots of luck when your fairy godmother was handing out good looks.” His gaze was appraising.
Just as Charlotte was about to allow this rare compliment to override his earlier words, he added, “Lord Ashbrook seems to think so. I see him look at you all the time.”
But not Alexander. No, he barely looked at her. Or spoke to her. Or seemed to wish to have anything to do with her.
“I’m very sorry about all those husbands you’ve lost,” said Katherine, looking sober before she brightened. “But now you’re free to choose another one, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes. And I’ve chosen Lord Ashbrook.”
“Or did he choose you?”
Charlotte was quite disarmed by the question as she replied that she was more than happy to accept. Even more disarmed — if not overwhelmed — when Katherine asked, “Why?”
“Why, what?” Charlotte stalled for time as she was assailed by a stab of concern that Beatrice shouldn’t be hearing this.
“Why did you say yes?” George repeated. “I suppose Lord Ashbrook has lots of money. But he’s very old. I know you arequiteold. But not nearly as old as he is.”
The distance between the adults in front seemed to have lengthened. The earlier mist had become a very light rain and Lady Fenton, Miss Huxtable and Alexander were hurrying towards a copse of trees ahead of them, no doubt for shelter. Charlotte stared after them, longingly. She felt like she was hemmed in by an Inquisition of people half her size but twice her might and she had no idea what to say or how to extricate herself. Beatrice’s enquiring look was almost too much to bear.
Young Katherine was insistent, chattering innocently – though with much calculation, Charlotte had no doubt – as she went on, “Do you think him handsome, Lady Highcliff? Mama said it was papa’s handsome looks that wonherover, but that she discovered he had a much kinder heart than she’d supposed, once she got to know him. Does Lord Ashbrook have a good heart? Mama said he was a man possessed of fine looks, and that he knew it, too.”
Charlotte was glad their conversation was not being overheard, though she suspected that Katherine would not be speaking like this if any other adults were in hearing. She was, she thought, just the age at which the young girl knew such chatter could be dismissed as innocent for her not knowing any better; but that, in truth, she knew very well what she was about.
Which begged the question: Why?
