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Chapter Eight
Charlotte spent the following morning in her room, answering correspondences and seeing to the house. Once that was done, she requested a bit of broth and fruit be brought to her room. She ate while Mary did a quick updo with her hair. It was bound to be a warm day—again—and she wanted it off her neck.
Next, Mary helped her to quickly don her coolest dress, one of a light jonquil-yellow linen. By the time Charlotte was ready for the day and the carriage brought around, it was nearly one.
Right on schedule.
Charlotte climbed inside the carriage, and off they set. The girls of the asylum were given two hours of free time a day, from one to three, during which they could play, draw, practice their sewing, or anything they wished.
It would be the best time for Charlotte to stop in and see about visiting with Emma’s little sister.
As she rode alone, silence fell around Charlotte. She could hear the rattle of carriage wheels and the occasional whinny of the horse. Voices from outside floated in now and then, but for the most part, all was calm around her.
It was the perfect opportunity to clear her head. After a dinner like last night, she needed it. What by the heavens above had possessed Seth to start a disagreement over fish? Charlotte snickered aloud. Even now, just the memory made her laugh. And gracious, but he’d looked good. She could only imagine how upset he’d been to spend so much money on a single jacket, but seeing him wear it...whatever he’d spent on it was well worth the cost.
As she neared Lambeth in South London, however, her thoughts turned to far more sobering memories. The closer she got, the more clearly she could hear Emma’s sincere concern for her little sister ringing in her mind. She wasn’t certain what she would find when she finally spoke with Emma’s little sister, but there had to be a reason Emma was so clearly concerned for her.
When she arrived and was admitted, it was Mrs. Lewis who came first to see what she needed.
Charlotte greeted the elderly woman, pleased that Mrs. Lewis looked happy and well. “I have come to see to the girls as usual,” Charlotte started, “but most particularly to ask after the wellbeing of Emma Tilbury’s younger sister. I understand she lives here.”
“Jane, yes,” Mrs. Lewis said, beckoning Charlotte to follow her down a corridor. “She’s a sweet thing. I believe she’s in the courtyard just now, playing dolls with some of the other girls.”
As Mrs. Lewis had foretold, they found a circle of about six girls sitting on the grass outside, each with two or more paper dolls in their hands. Judging by the artistic quality of the dolls, the girls had made them. Charlotte never stopped being amazed by Mrs. Lewis. She did so much for these little charges. Despite there being nearly two hundred of them, Mrs. Lewis still managed to know where every girl was nearly all the time. She was a marvel. Charlotte hated to think of what the asylum would do when Mrs. Lewis finally grew too old and had to leave them.
“Girls,” Mrs. Lewis called as they neared the circle, “this is Lady Blackmore.”
With only a little prodding from Mrs. Lewis, all the girls stood and politely curtsied.
“Jane,” Mrs. Lewis said, “Lady Blackmore wishes to speak with you.”
One of the smaller girls of the group stepped away and closer to Charlotte. Her hair was not nearly so fiery red as Emma’s, but her eyes were the same light blue, and she had even more freckles.
Charlotte leaned over, speaking to Mrs. Lewis, “I will come find you if I need anything else.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Lewis said with another genuine smile. “Stay as long as you like. It’s good for the girls to see a true lady, someone they can look up to.”
Though Mrs. Lewis and others here at the asylum had called her a lady worth looking to for years, Charlotte still could not help but smile ruefully when they did. If only her mother had heard them say such things. She would have argued to the contrary until she was blue in the face. But, then again, Mother had never been the kind of woman who would have bothered with the asylum in the first place.
“Yes, my lady?” Jane asked, curtsying again.
Charlotte’s heart swelled. What a darling little girl. So polite and sweet—and if the dolls in her hand were any proof, she also had quite the talent for drawing.
Charlotte motioned toward the simple dirt path that led around the edge of the courtyard. “Would you take a turn with me?”
The little girl nodded and fell into step beside Charlotte.
“Do you know where I went a few days ago?” Charlotte started.
The little girl shook her head.
“I went to see your sister.”
“You saw Emma?” The words burst with excitement from the girl.
Charlotte laughed at the pure joy. “Yes, I did. She is well”—it might be a small lie, but Charlotte was certain Emma wouldn’t have wanted her to tell Jane anything less—“and she asked after you. She seemed quite worried that without her, you would do very poorly.”
Jane looked off toward the building where she lived and was silent for a moment. “I am sad she left.”
