“What business is it of yours?” Charlotte shook her head, anger and frustration welling up within her.
“I am your mother,” Lady Bellmore said though it lacked conviction.
“You are my stepmother,” Charlotte replied coolly. “That is not the same.”
“Just because I am not your mother by blood, does not mean I am somehow less.” An odd look crossed her face as though she were trying to convince herself of the truth of her own words. “I care about you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte scoffed. “Do not lie to me. You have always made it abundantly clear that you did not care for me, so why pretend now?”
“Is that truly what you think?” Lady Bellmore took a step back, looking genuinely surprised.
“Of course, it is.” Charlotte gaped at her.
All the times she directed a scathing remark at me.Charlotte had not expected a close relationship with Lady Bellmore; she had not really expected much at all when her father remarried.It all happened so fast, or at least, that is what it seemed like.
“I care for all of you, deeply.” Lady Bellmore clutched a hand to her chest.
“I find that hard to believe.” She raised an eyebrow at her stepmother.
“And why is that?” Lady Bellmore frowned at her.
“If you cared for us, any of us, why would you treat us the way you do? How are we supposed to ever match your expectations? You want all three of us to be perfect, all of the time. No, not even perfect, above perfect. Beyond reproach.” Charlotte gestured around her emphatically. “It is exhausting.”
Lady Bellmore arched an eyebrow at her, folding her arms across her chest. “Youdo not try to be perfect; you have never tried to be perfect.”
“Because I knew that if I was a big enough failure in your eyes, you would go easier on the other two. Perhaps even be kind to them.” Charlotte felt her voice catch with the weight of the years she had spent being her sisters’ guardian.I will protect them.“I did what I had to to keep my sisters safe. It was what I promised my mother.”
“You felt you had to keep your sisters safe from me?” Lady Bellmore scoffed as though the idea were utterly preposterous.
Charlotte only just managed not to gape at her.How can she be so unaware of her behaviour?“Of course, I did. Philippa still has bruises from your ‘correction’ the other day.”
“What?” A look of horror flashed across the woman’s face.
“You bruised her. You always do.” She frowned.
“I… I did not know that.”
“How could you have not known? What need have you to grip so hard? To control us so tightly? We can scarcely breathe without your say so. The others barely step a toe out of line for fear of you and what you might do.” Charlotte recalled a crying Evelyn, a red mark across her face where their stepmother had slapped her.That solidified what I must do. That I must set the bar so low, they would always succeed in her eyes, and even that has not been enough.
“You paint me as some fairy tale witch.” Lady Bellmore bit her lip, a mix of anger and confusion playing across her face.
“No, I am simply describing how you have been, how you have always been,” Charlotte said although some part of her felt that this was not necessarily true. “Why else do you think I would pretend to marry a duke?”
Lady Bellmore gaped at Charlotte, and she mentally kicked herself for the blunder. She glanced around, but the door was closed.Hopefully, no one will hear me.
“So it is true.” Lady Bellmore shook her head, and then, to Charlotte’s surprise, instead of reprimanding her or striking her, her stepmother gently squeezed her hand. “I am sorry that you felt you had to do such a thing.”
“I… What?” Charlotte’s head swam.This makes no sense.
“I swore I would never be like my own parents, like my mother and father, and yet I see I have done just that.” Lady Bellmore ran a hand through her head. “They always pushed me, punished me harshly when I fell short of their standards. I grew up never feeling good enough. Never feeling worthy of love and affection.
“At least, until I met your father. Everything was different when we met. He was like no one I had ever known. He needed me, and it made me feel like perhaps I would be worthy of him.” Lady Bellmore ran a hand absently over her wedding ring. “It was different when I was first married to your father.”
“I have no memory of it,” Charlotte admitted.
“I am hardly surprised.” Lady Bellmore sighed. “I was so young, so desperate to please and to show everyone that I would be a good wife. Your mother had been dead only six months, and your father found me in his grief.”
It occurred to her that Lady Bellmore could not have been much older than her.She would have been no more than four and twenty; they were married eleven years ago.She tried to remember what it had been like in those early months and days.
