Page 13 of Wager on Love

There was a tap at her door, and Charlotte called, “Enter.”

She was surprised to see Jacqueline holding the tea tray. Jacqueline now primarily served Jane, the new Lady Keegain. “Where is Milly?” Charlotte asked after her own maid. “I do hope she is not ill.” There was concern in her voice.

“Non,” Jacqueline said in her thick French accent. “Word was sent. HerMèrehad her baby, so the earl sent her home to help with the infant.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Charlotte said, and then she frowned turning to look at Jacqueline, concern suddenly filling her face. “I thought the baby wasn’t due until next month. Is everyone alright? Are the child and mother doing well? Have you heard?”

“Yes,” Jacqueline said with a laugh. “Both are fine. Sometimes these things happen when they happen, Yes?”

“Yes. I suppose. Good,” Charlotte said settling into the chair to allow Jacqueline to dress her and style her hair. Charlotte wondered what Jacqueline thought of children. Her current occupation prohibited her marrying. Charlotte thought that would be a loss. She could not wait to have her own family. Not that she didn’t love her current family, but she wanted a house full of children.

“What did she have?” Charlotte asked as she sipped her tea. She knew the servant’s grapevine of gossip would know before anyone else.

“A little boy,” Jacqueline said with satisfaction.

“Oh, her father will be happy,” Charlotte laughed. Milly had seven younger sisters and although she had an older brother, he had died in the war with Napoleon leaving her father without a son. A male heir was not the same necessity in a common family as it was amongst the peerage, but Charlotte understood that many men desired sons. “We should send a basket,” Charlotte said.

“The Countess already sent the family’s congratulations and a basket of food and sweets to celebrate the occasion,” Jacqueline said. “You know she was up at dawn.”

“Of course she was,” Charlotte said shaking her head.

The Countess. The title sounded so formal. Although her friend Jane had married her brother in an almost scandalously hasty marriage this past winter, it still felt strange to call her dearest friend countess. “Speaking of,” Charlotte commented as she blew on her tea to cool it and then added a bit more cream. “You must be busy with Jane. Surely there was another to help me with my toilette today.” After all, Charlotte thought, they had several dozen servants in the London house and many more at Kennett Park. She did not need to steal Jane’s lady’s maid.

“There was,” Jacqueline said, with a small shrug. “But we have not spoken in quite some time.” She paused, brush in hand. “And who would not love to tend to your beautiful hair?”

“You have missed me,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Or at least you missed my hair!” She laughed aloud. It was a well-known fact that Jacqueline loved styling the girls’ hair most of all.

“I have,” Jacqueline agreed.

Jacqueline helped Charlotte to dress and fashioned her hair very becomingly, while she sipped her tea. They chatted amiably about the previous evening. Jacqueline was about ten years older than Charlotte. She had a great deal more experience in the world. She had fled France during the war when her own parents were killed. She had seen horrors that Charlotte could only imagine.

“Now, tell me about the ball,” Jacqueline urged while she brushed. “Your sister says that you met a handsome gentleman.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. She described Sir John’s deep blue eyes and dark features wistfully. “He is so handsome.”

“I have always been partial to that visage,” Jacqueline said. “Blue eyes with dark hair. It is more common in France. Not this pale English complexion, yes?”

“Yes. No!” Charlotte laughed as she contradicted herself. “There is nothing wrong with an English complexion,” she argued.

“Yes,” Jacqueline agreed. “There is nothing wrong. Only find one with a heart that is right, yes?” She stopped brushing and put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder squeezing lightly.

“Yes,” Charlotte agreed. Not like Marley, she thought but she said nothing.

She took another sip of tea as Jacqueline finished with her hair. “YourMèreis in the morning room,” Jacqueline said. “Lady Helen is in the library, I believe.”

“And Jane?” Charlotte asked.

“I do not know,” Jacqueline said primly. “She and the earl rode out some time ago. I am not sure if they are yet returned.”

Charlotte felt ready to take on the day, but she was reluctant to end their conversation.

“I have missed you too,” she said with a fond smile. The two women had become friends when Jacqueline had first come to them. Even though Jacqueline was of gentle birth in France, and a dream with hair styles, she had been relegated to be the maid of the young unmarried sister of the earl rather than the perspective lady.

Randolph’s previous fiancé had demanded the French woman be dismissed. Ruddy had refused to oust Jaqueline, and had instead told the housekeeper, to find her a place somewhere else within the household. Jacqueline had become Charlotte’s maid instead. Later, Jane had taken the Frenchwoman under her wing. Charlotte did not mind losing Jacqueline to Jane. Jacqueline would always be her friend, despite their difference in station.

Charlotte put aside her empty cup and contemplated what might happen next. Sir John had sent her flowers, but it would be improper of her to send him a note in return. She was desperate to know which ball or soiree he might next attend. She supposed she would have to hope he was present at Almack’s the following week, but that was six endless days away. Charlotte could not bear waiting patiently for anything, but fortunately her empty stomach distracted her from her frustration for the time being.

As she walked down the stairs of the Keegain London townhouse, Charlotte paused to breathe in the scent of Mrs. Muir’s delicacies. She had expected that her mother would be in the parlor, sewing or doing some craft to engage her mind, but she was not. The dowager still had tea set out in the morning room, along with sweet cinnamon buns and a variety of meats and cheeses.

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