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The two of them strolled back slowly to the others and Charity caught her friend Flora’s eye. Flora blushed furiously and looked down, making Charity think that she would have to quiz Flora upon the details of her courtship with James at the earliest possible opportunity. How could she not have told Charity? But Charity couldn't ask now in present mixed company. She was forced to allow the group to enjoy the remainder of their lazy summer day, all the while observing the warm glances exchanged between Flora and James. How could she have not seen it before?
Although there was still the space on the picnic blanket that Charity and James had vacated when they left their friends, James shuffled the entirety of the party around saying they should turn to avoid the glare of the afternoon sun. He made much ado of putting the ladies in the shade. Charity thought that the movement was so that he could sit beside Flora. He unobtrusively touched his fingers to hers as he sat. The girl beamed up at him, and Charity felt her friend’s smile like a spike in her heart.
Charity was happy for the pair, she truly was, but inside her heart was breaking, not because she held any romantic inclination toward James, but because he and Flora were just two more friends who were going to disappear into the realm of married couples, leaving her alone. Was everyone able to find love but her? The specter of being an old maid loomed even larger in her mind. If not James, who? Now, she must cast a wider net if she wished to achieve her goal by the end of the summer, or at least by the end of the season.
The shifting left her sitting beside Michael. She glanced up at him through her lashes. Michael was the steadier sort. He spoke with intelligence of the war with Napoleon and his march across Europe, and yet did not make much of it, so as not to frighten the other women. Charity could have told him she had already read much of the politics to her father so the news would not frighten her. She had great faith in the English to repel all invaders. Why had she not seriously considered Michael as a suitor? She considered him now.
He was not ugly, quite the opposite. He was only quiet. Charity was not nearly as familiar with Michael as she was with James. However, it was not as if Michael had anything that could speak against his person. He was fine, in all manner, as a gentleman. Michael was the older brother, not that it mattered since neither Poppy had much in the way of wealth or position, but she had never really given Michael a chance as a person. Charity doubted his stoic personality had endeared him to many women but he was a kind man, she realized.
When she had risen to walk with James earlier, Michael had offered his arm. Had Michael been meaning to escort her instead? Charity began noting the number of times Michael had complemented her, or opened doors, or went to fetch her a drink. She realized he had been making overtures towards her, but she had not noticed. She had not given him a chance. Michael Poppy was actually quite thoughtful and she had been completely oblivious to him. She now realized the number of times she had been escorted by both James and Michael, often with Flora. Now that she knew that James wanted to offer for Flora their foursome made sense.
The most notable plus point in Michael’s favor was that he was a Poppy. She told herself this was the best plan. She wanted a family, and the Poppys were well endowed in that quarter. She would have sisters and of course, James would be her brother.
The Poppys knew her. There would be no need for subterfuge. She thought of all the others of theTonand their polite masks. It was disheartening that there should seem to always be a bar to honest conversation. At least with Michael Poppy she could be herself. A lady should be able to be oneself before one’s husband.
Although Charity did not look forward to convincing her mother of the equitableness of this plan, she had determined that she would choose her husband today. Yes Michael Poppy would be just the thing. The thought made her stomach clench with doubt.
~.~
Chapter Fourteen
The day after the Drummond Picnic, Charity took tea with Julia, the new Baroness Fawkland. No matter the trouble in Charity’s heart, Julia could see through it. The truth was, Julia was practical and could understand things with an uncanny ease. Julia would help her make a decision. Julia would know what to do. At least, Charity knew she would feel more settled when she was finished with tea with Julia.
“Thank you Harrington.” Julia said as her butler admitted Charity to Lady Fawkland’s bath home.
“Will there be anything else, Baroness?”
“Have Mrs. Harper bring tea in the morning room,” Julia requested politely
“The house looks wonderful,” Charity commented as she entered. “I cannot believe you just arrived at Bath and you already are all settled.”
“Well, I do have the highest paid butler in Bath,” Julia said with a little smile. “He does earn his salary. All of the staff are eager to please since Lord Fawkland and I took up residence here for the summer. After all they were hired to care for a country miss, and here I am a lady. In truth, I think they are more proud to serve a baroness than I am to be one.”
Charity laughed at Julia’s frankness. She knew her friend was still nervous that she would not live up to her new title. Charity assured Julia that there could be no finer baroness, nor a finer house.
Charity paused at a new display. Last year the paintings that had graced the walls of Julia’s summer home depicted the sites and streets of Bath, many lovingly painted by Julia herself. Now, several key works had been replaced with new paintings, no less lovely, but they instead displayed a lush countryside.
“These paintings. Are they yours?” Charity asked.
Julia nodded proudly. “Lord Fawkland thought we might move some of the Bath scenes to the barony and some of my newer works here so I might always feel myself at home.”
“They are beautiful,” Charity complimented her, pleased that her friend had found happiness in her new role.
Julia fairly glowed when she spoke of her new husband. Charity only wished she might feel that same joy. The two women spoke of Bath and of paintings, and Charity simply enjoyed her friend’s company while tea was served. Julia always made her feel better and today was no exception, but eventually, the topic came to the subject of men, and Charity’s troubles.
“At the opening ball, Lavinia said you were walking the gardens with James Poppy.” Julia raised an eyebrow. “And then again at the Drummond picnic. Are you considering him, Charity?”
Charity lifted a shoulder and placed her cup carefully back in its saucer. She had not thought how it might look from the outside.
“I did walk with James, but only to get a breath of fresh air.” Then Charity spilled the entirety of the story to Julia: the fight with Lord Wentwell at the ball and how miserable she had been since. While she spoke she fiddled with her napkin and gloves in her lap.
“But is he not a rake?” Julia asked. A footman brought in biscuits fresh from the oven, and Julia thanked him. “That will be all,” she told him.
Charity waited until the footman had left them before she answered. “I suppose he is a rake. He denies it, but what man wouldn’t in the face of a disaster like Miss Danbury.”
Julia shook her head. “It is true that all theTonis twittering about Miss Danbury, and she has removed from Bath. Still I would advise against basing your decision solely on rumor.” Julia offered Charity the plate of biscuits, but Charity refused. Her stomach was in knots.
“That is so,” Charity said. “I know I let my tongue get the better of me, but if it is true Julia, I could not accept him, not with a bastard child. No one would expect it of me. You understand as much.” Charity continued to worry at the napkin in her lap.
