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“You forget yourself, Emmeline,” he said.
Charity froze. He had called her by her mother’s name. This was not good. This was not good at all. Lord Shalace was standing now, fully intending to go off on his own to find his water. She had to stop him.
“I have not given you leave to call me by my given name,” Charity said haughtily. The words seemed to take the wind out of his sails. If she could keep him from publically calling her by her mother’s name perhaps she could get him home.
He seemed even more agitated and Charity resorted to wringing her hands around her fan.
“Please sit,” she whispered. “Calm yourself.”
“I am calm,” he shouted.
Several others who were nearby sent annoyed looks their way.
“I shall retrieve it,” she said in desperation. “Just sit. I will only be a moment.”
Lord Shalace sat back down, but looked a little restless. “Will you sit?” she said. “I shall get your water.”
“Get it? I want a dip.”
“Very well,” Charity said again. “Just sit quietly. I shall only be a moment.” There were sellers who were not far away. She could see them at the crest of the hill. If she could just get to them and back, all would be well. “I am only going over there,” she said.
Charity gestured over to the far side of the park where a merchant was pedaling small containers full of the healing waters. Charity knew that her father liked to sip the drink and it did always seem to improve his spirits. Perhaps it might allow him to continue to enjoy the outing. Charity wanted nothing more than to make him well. “The water will be just the thing,” she said.
“That would be just the thing,” he smiled up at her. “I should like nothing more than a quick splash.”
Charity looked from her father to the merchant. The merchant’s booth was not far away and, though she might not normally have done so, Charity decided that the situation called for her to make the short journey on her own to retrieve the tonic.
“Yes. Yes. I shall return in a moment’s time,” she promised her father and gestured to the stall only a short walk away where he could watch her the entire journey. “Just there,” she repeated. He nodded, his head appearing heavier by the minute. Maybe he would fall asleep. She wished she could be so lucky.
Charity stood and grabbed her father’s purse which would contain the coin she needed to purchase the vial of water. She knew not if the miracle waters truly worked, but if they helped her father at all she would avow herself a believer from this day onward.
She continued to glance back over her shoulder at her father as she picked her way through the crowd. He was leaning back upon his arms and seemed quite comfortable in his leisure. Charity smiled. She would set him to rights in a moment and all would be well. Still, they would be wise to be on their way. She would plead a headache when she returned. They would soon be safely home.
A deep voice behind her said her name and Charity jumped with alarm.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. When she turned to see who had addressed her, she added. “Oh, it’syou,” with a barely contained snarl.
Lord Wentwell offered her a bow, but she had no time for him. She tried to push past without even a by your leave.
“Wait,” he said catching her arm.
“Let go,” she snarled. Charity knew that she should not be so short with the gentleman. But it was for her father that she was abrupt. She must get back to him with his tonic in all haste.
“Just leave off,” she said walking away.
He followed her.
“Lady Charity I must apologize for my behavior. I should not have spoken so harshly as I did at the ball. Certainly not to a lady, but I understand if you are still upset with me.”
Lady Charity sighed as he turned to leave. With a soft word she called him back.
“Wait,” she said. “Thank you. I am sorry I was short. I am not going far.” Lord Wentwell dropped into step beside her and remained silent as they joined the line awaiting their purchases. Charity wrung her hands together around her fan, twisting it unmercifully. “My father…” she whispered.
“How is Lord Shalace faring?” Wentwell asked. “Is he feeling better since he has taken the waters?”
“For a short while, but he is not well,” Charity admitted, though she knew no reason why this gentleman deserved any such explanation. “This morning he was almost his old self, but now he is tiring and…. Well, I was thinking that some water might renew his spirits. At least, I had hoped…”
“You should never lose your hope,” Lord Wentwell replied. His sincere tone and kind eyes caught Charity off guard. “Those we love deserve every moment of our effort on their behalf.”
