Page 36 of Falling for a Footman

Nineteen

Charlotte made surethat everything looked normal before she rang for Miss Walker the next morning. Her green morning dress hung in her dressing room and as far she could tell, it had not been stained or damaged: Miss Walker would never know that she had worn it the last two nights.

With a sigh, she sat down at her dressing table and started unbraiding her long hair. When loose it almost reached the small of her back. At least it was long and strong even though the color was so strange. She had often wondered about it, since her parents were both blonde, her father a more golden wheat blonde and her mother an icy blonde tone. Both Henry, Hester and Gregory however had the same dark blonde almost brown hair, just in different shades. She would have liked the icy blonde that Lucy had or the golden, curly locks that already made girls look longingly at Archie.

She picked up the brush and started brushing her hair absentmindedly. Miss Walker took longer than usually this morning, but perhaps they were busy in the kitchen, and she had to help. The brush stroked easily through Charlotte’s hair and the motion was soothing, almost sleep-inducing.

Perhaps this was what she should have done last night when she had been unable to sleep. She had tossed from side to side most of the night after returning from her meeting with James. She had to accept that what had been between them was over. If he did not want to answer her questions, she had no way to figure out whether he was the thief. And she could not be with him under those circumstances.

If he would just tell her, then they could start making plans together. She doubted that she would ever feel the same way about another man, and she was willing to take a chance to be with him. Even if it would cause scandal. Even if it meant that her parents and her siblings might only be able to see her in secret or perhaps not at all.

She was fairly certain that her father would give James her dowry and that would be enough for them to start a shop together. Preferably a bookshop, although they would of course have to research what was actually needed. She could almost see herself be happy living that life. They would manage the bookshop together, raise their children, talk or read to each other in the evenings, and share the same bed at night.

A crimson blush colored her cheeks at that thought and Charlotte averted her eyes from her own reflection, while the imprint of how his hardened member had felt against his hand. Even though it was embarrassing she still wanting to touch him there. Explore every inch of him, preferably without his clothes on.

But that could not be as long as he would not answer her questions. If only he would, she was certain that she could convince him that the divide in their stations was not insurmountable...

Charlotte startled when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” she croaked after having taken a minute to gather her thoughts. Miss Walker greeted her in a clipped tone of voice that first made Charlotte think that she was mad, then when she saw Miss Walker’s face, she realized that the woman was feeling unwell. Her forehead was sweaty and her skin pale.

“You should be in bed, Miss Walker,” Charlotte said and turned around to look at her as she filled the wash basin with hot water.

“No, I’m fine, Lady Charlotte. Thank you for your consideration,” Miss Walker hurriedly assured her, still in the clipped tone of voice and hurried into the dressing room. Charlotte looked at the open door for a moment, but no sound emerged from the room. She put the brush down and went to the washstand to wash, relishing the warm water on her skin.

“The green or the blue morning dress, Lady Charlotte?” Miss Walker asked from the dressing room after what seemed like several minutes.

Since Charlotte had been wearing her green morning dress last night, she doubted that she would be able to wear it for a very long time without thinking of James and right now, she did not need him to disturb her thoughts.

“The blue,” she croaked and cleared her throat.

Miss Walker emerged a moment later and helped Charlotte into her clothes, then had her sit down again.

“I have brushed it myself. I don’t think there is much work for you, except to pin it,” Charlotte said and hoped that Miss Walker took comfort in that. She still looked like she could cast up her accounts any moment.

“I’ll just give it a quick brush then, Lady Charlotte.”

The brush in her hair was just as soothing when Miss Walker did it as when Charlotte had been combing it herself and her thoughts quickly strayed to James and their impossible situation again. It was not just the divide in their stations and her not knowing his background that posed pose a problem; it was also that she had no way of knowing whether he was the thief or not.

She doubted that he was: everything she knew about him told her that he was not, yet there was so many inconsistencies and his reluctance to simply answer her questions. Perhaps she should simply speak to her father about it. Even though he might not want to search James’s belongings or question him on the matter based on the evidence that Charlotte provided, he could at least be more vigilant. She nodded at her own thoughts, which made Miss Walker tear on her hair. Charlotte let out a cry of pain.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Charlotte,” she exclaimed.

“No, it was my own fault,” Charlotte amended as Miss Walker put the brush down and started arranging Charlotte’s hair.

Yes, Charlotte thought – this time without nodding. She would speak to her father. Not to make trouble for James, but because this was too much to keep to herself anymore.

She had hoped to go riding with her father after breakfast and have the opportunity to be alone with him then, but when she saw him at breakfast, he said that he needed to attend to some estate business and would be in his office for most of the day.

Charlotte followed him out of the breakfast room ten minutes later and told him that she needed to talk to him alone as soon as they were out of earshot from her mother and Lucy.

“Can’t it wait, Charlotte? I don’t have that much time,” her father brushed her off as if she was a small child annoying him with a mundane issue.

Charlotte had to steel herself to not give in and say that it could wait. She knew that her father was busy with the estate, especially since they had just gotten back and there were lots to attend to.

“I know you’re busy, Papa, and I won’t be long. It is merely... a concern I would like to share with you.”

“A concern?” her father echoed.