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“You know?”
“I do not fault you for it,” Amelia said. “You are just quick to anger, but you are also kind and generous to a fault.”
“I am sorry, Amelia. I did not think.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Amelia laughed. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, but that is why I love you so. You are bright bit of sunshine, surprising a dull day.”
“It is surely not dull,” Charity said, but she understood. Amelia was still wearing mourning. All the days had lost some of their brightness.
The footman brought the tea, and Amelia addressed him. “Please take the service to the garden,” she said, and the footman bowed slightly with the tea set. “We’ve decided to enjoy the weather.”
“Right away, my lady,” he said, and left them to their privacy.
“Let us take our tea in the garden,” Amelia said. “We may not have many more clear days in the summer. We should enjoy the sunshine while we can.”
“I do not want to dredge up old hurts,” Charity said as they walked from the house. “But I must. I think I was jealous. You had the love of theTonand were so effortlessly beautiful.”
“Effortless? You jest,” Amelia protested, but Charity continued undaunted.
“Mostly,” Charity whispered, “You had your father, and mine was…” she swallowed heavily, the words catching in her throat. “My father is dying bit by bit.”
Amelia said nothing. She just turned and hugged her friend. They stood that way for a long moment in the archway of roses which led to Ebba’s spectacular garden. “I am so sorry, Amelia,” Charity said.
“All is forgiven, Charity. Long ago forgiven,” Amelia said. The girls walked along the garden path behind the townhouse, and it was as it once was when they were younger. All of the anger between them fell away. Charity confided to Amelia about losing her father at the concert and of Lord Wentwell gallantly returning him to her.
“At least you have found him again, Charity. Perhaps with care he will recover.”
Charity shook her head. “You know these thing do not get better. They get worse. You lost your father quickly. I am losing mine slowly. Every day he slips farther away,” Charity whispered. “I cannot bear it.” Soon tears were streaming down both of their faces.
“You will bear it because you must,” Amelia said. “Though it hurts just the same.” Both girls walked along the path and sniffed, patting corner of their eyes with matching handkerchiefs. “But remember, your friends are here for you: me and Patience most especially.”
“Are you truly?”
“I am,” Amelia promised.
“But you are the only one of my closest friends still unmarried and not for very much longer. You have chosen Command Beresford…” Charity said, forcibly squashing the pang of jealously that rose in her breast.
She and Amelia sat the garden table, and Amelia reached for the teapot to pour. “I suppose I did choose him,” Amelia said with a faraway look, “but he is nothing that I thought I would have chosen. He has no title, no money to speak of, and he is not polished or suave, but in the end I found I was in love with him, and that has made all the difference.”
“I never would have thought of him, Amelia. He always appeared to be such a …scoundrel,” Charity finished with a wan smile. She put her attention on her tea, stirring in the cream and sugar.
“Perhaps he is,” Amelia said unoffended, “but perhaps he ismyscoundrel, and I love him nonetheless.” Charity could see the sincerity in her friend’s face. She did indeed love the commander. Charity turned away, suddenly filled with sorrow. How would she ever find her own love?
Amelia who was ever more perceptive than others thought, caught Charity’s hand across the table. “Oh, Charity, you will find your true love. I know you will. Do not fret,”
“No. You know me too well, Amelia I have myself in a state.”
Amelia passed a plate of cinnamon cakes and Charity took one.
“Over Michael Poppy?” Amelia asked.
Charity nodded. “I have refused him.” She sat poking her cinnamon cake with a fork until it was quite demolished. “Oh Amelia, my mother threatens that if I don’t marry soon, I will be a spinster. I am not cut out to be a spinster.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Amelia said.
Charity continued to worry the cinnamon cake. “I do not want to be an old maid, but I cannot see my way clear. I do not want to be alone, and I fear I have led Michael on.” She paused and looked up at Amelia. “I supposed, the Poppys are much what I thought I would have with The Duke of Ely.”
“However so?” Amelia asked tipping her nose just a bit into the air, at having her Father compared to the Poppys.
