Page 26 of Tamed By a Duke
"I am sorry, Ethel," Charlotte offered, but the maid was not to be cajoled into forgiving Charlotte so easily.
"You like to talk about the suffering of the poor, but you gave no thought to how I might suffer if your grandmother dismissed me from service without a letter of recommendation."
With that final statement, Ethel reached into her basket and extracted a crochet piece, which she diligently worked on until they returned home.
Once back in Ashfield House, the lady's maid quickly disappeared, leaving Charlotte alone and wracked with guilt for her actions. She traipsed up the stairs to her bedchamber, where she tried to console herself by counting the coin that Mr Bridge had given her for her necklace. There was more money within the coin-purse than she had ever received for any of the other baubles she had pawned.
Give thanks for small mercies, Charlotte told herself; if she was careful with the coin, she might not have to visit with Mr Bridge for a very long time. She did feel somewhat shameful for bartering away her father's gifts, but she had many fine jewels already and the money she raised was for a good cause.
Charlotte counted out what she needed from the purse and transferred it into another purse, which she then carefully wrapped up in a dress which needed altering.
"Can you please bring this to Mrs Thatchery's on Barbour Street, it's rather urgent," she said, to Thomas, the young under-footman, when she had found him.
The lad gave a nod and took the package with a grateful smile; he had been moving furniture in the music-room and was evidently pleased for an excuse to abandon his task.
"Of course, Miss Drew," Thomas said, taking the package from Charlotte's hands and near sprinting from the room. Once the door had shut behind him, Charlotte sat down at the pianoforte and idly pressed a few of the ivory keys. She did not have Bianca's musical talents, but she was adept enough to play some easier songs, and she found the act of playing soothing to her frayed nerves.
Unfortunately, the balm of music was not to last, for Bianca burst into the room just a few minutes later.
"What did you do?"
Charlotte's hands slipped on the keys, as her sister's shrill cry filled the room. She turned and found Bianca—her face red and streaked with tears—standing in the doorway.
"Ethel told me that you tricked her into accompanying you on some nefarious mission to Rundell and Bridge, and if that wasn't bad enough, you then engaged in a shouting match with Penrith in the middle of the road. Oh, Cat, what on earth were you about?"
"I'm sorry," Charlotte replied, her guilt giving her words a depth of sincerity, "I was not thinking."
"That's the problem, Cat," Bianca replied, as she levelled a disappointed gaze upon her sister, "You never think on how your actions affect others. Now Penrith will stop courting you and I may never get to make my come-out. Not to mention that poor Ethel might be dismissed if anyone finds out that she escorted you on your escapade to do lud-knows-what. You are completely, utterly, and totally selfish and if you were not my sister, I would wash my hands of you completely."
With that final, scathing remark, Bianca stormed from the room, slamming the door with an impressive force for one so petite.
Lud.
Charlotte heaved a sigh of despair and gazed out the window. Outside the sky had turned grey and rain was beginning to lash against the window panes. What had begun as a sunny, hopeful morning was now threatening to turn into a dismal afternoon—just like Charlotte's mood.
She had lost Bianca's respect, Ethel's trust, and Penrith's esteem all in the space of a few hours.
Quite the accomplishment for someone who is considered unaccomplished, Charlotte thought dourly, as she began to play another tune.
This song was dark and sombre, with deep notes of despair which filled the room and gave voice to Charlotte's feelings.
All was lost, she thought miserably, slightly surprised at how the idea that she might never see Penrith again was the thing which made her saddest of all.
Chapter Eight
After his altercation with Miss Drew on Ludgate Hill, Hugh spent the rest of the day in a state of high irritability.
What on earth had the chit been pawning her jewels for, Hugh wondered, as he sat at his desk attending to correspondence from his various estate stewards.
He dashed off a line of instruction to his man in Kent, but the force with which he pressed his quill was so hard that the nib tore through the page, rendering it useless. Hugh growled with frustration, crumpled up the sheaf of paper and threw it into the fireplace, before taking another fresh page to begin again.
His mind wandered as he wrote, and Hugh found himself rehashing his argument with Miss Drew. If that carriage had not drawn up at that exact moment, Hugh was certain that Charlotte would have told him to stick his hoof up his rear-end.
His lips, of their own volition, quirked with amusement; no one had ever dared to speak to him in such a colourful manner. No onewouldever dare, except, it seemed, Miss Drew.
But he could not allow himself to be amused by her verbosity, Hugh scolded himself, as he dipped his quill into the ink-pot. Again, his movements were clumsy, causing droplets of ink to splash out onto the rosewood desk.
Without thinking, Hugh removed his favourite silk handkerchief from his pocket to mop up the mess he had created, only to realise too late that the ink would be impossible to remove.
