AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 5
The following evening, there was a ball on the ever-present season calendar—something that Charlotte had allowed herself to forget about amid the murderous chaos. She contemplated for a good while not going; after all, she wasn’t exactly in a bright mood.
However, as her mother embarked on another afternoon with her sister, and the house settled into its dismal, late-afternoon air, she felt as though she might go wild with apprehension if left to her own devices. Beyond this, Louisa had made her promise to attend weeks before—and she wasn’t the sort to go back on her promise.
Charlotte donned a green gown and curled her dark blonde locks beautifully. She blinked into the mirror, studying the woman before her: twenty-three years old, bright-eyed, yet simmering with terror. With each thud of her heart, she felt the truth of the previous few days: if only she’d been less pessimistic, perhaps she could have saved her cousin’s life.
The mystic had put this on her shoulders, and she’d ignored it.
Now, Brooks was dead.
Charlotte appeared at her father’s study door and rapped on the wood. Moments later, he called for her to enter. She found him curled over a letter, a quill in-hand.
“Hello, darling. You decided to attend the ball, then?”
Charlotte nodded. “Perhaps it’s a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. It’s essential to keep going in the wake of this,” her father returned. “Brooks wouldn’t want you to hide yourself away.”
“I suppose Mother and Auntie will be kept away for some time,” Charlotte said.
Her father sighed. “I suppose so. And I don’t know what it will do to your mother’s mental health. I fear it will cast her into impossible darkness.”
Charlotte turned her eyes towards the fire. Its light flickered ominously across the bricks.
“Do you know anything more?” Charlotte asked suddenly. “About his death, I mean.”
Her father shook his head sadly. “There have been no more reports. Still, I know they’ll find the man who did this. Don’t worry yourself about that.”
Charlotte arched her brow. She felt even more pessimistic about their police force than she had about the mystic. She opened her lips; she yearned to explain what had happened with the mystic—yearned to articulate just how guilty she felt.
Of course, she knew the words would fall on all-but deaf ears.A mystic? Nonsense.After all, it had been her father who’d instilled her love of facts, of learning.
Charlotte headed into the growing darkness and settled in the back of the carriage. She blinked what seemed like only two or three times before suddenly, the carriage creaked to a halt outside the bright and bustling estate, the site of the evening’s party. The trip had been meant to take more than twenty minutes; had Charlotte truly blacked out for that long?
The stable hand assisted her to the ground below. Her eyes traced over the vibrant gowns, the tossing curls, the handsome men with their broad shoulders and certain smiles. Countless gorgeous creatures, all in their early-to-mid-twenties, awash with glory and excitement. Not one of them seemed to care at all about Brooks’ murder.
In fact, as Charlotte walked towards the entrance, she heard several of them articulating what they’d heard about the murder—in a sort of matter-of-fact way, as though knowledge of the murder gave them some sort of celebrity.
This made her detest them all the more.
“I’m sure he was involved in some sort of affair,” one man uttered. “He was always so flirtatious. Perhaps he took up with a married woman. Perhaps the woman’s husband had him murdered. Perhaps there was an altercation, and Brooks attacked the husband. That’s the sort of thing Brooks might have done, don’t you think? He was always so brash. So quick for a fight …”
Charlotte paused in the centre of the ballroom, her hands clenched at her waist. The orchestra swirled into yet another gorgeous melody; the violins ached into soprano, and the cellos hovered down below. In response, pairs took to the centre of the ballroom, their feet tapping into the familiar steps. All the while, Charlotte fumed, unable to move. How could people be so cruel? A man had died. Someone who’d very much lived and danced and drank and laughed alongside them. He would never return.
“Charlotte!”
Charlotte whipped around at the familiar sound of Louisa’s voice. Immediately, she fell into her best friend’s arms, placing her chin against Louisa’s shoulder and closing her eyes.
“I’ve heard them speaking about him all night,” Louisa whispered. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to run to your estate and tell you not to come, but I assumed you were already on your way.”
Charlotte heaved a sigh and stepped back. “It’s okay. I can’t imagine what sort of wretched people wish to discuss this as though it’s some sort of entertainment, but …”
“I know,” Louisa whispered. She lifted her finger to Charlotte’s hair and curled it around and around her finger. “How is your mother?”
“I’ve hardly seen her. Although you should have been at the fabric store yesterday. She tore the poor owner apart, in traditional fashion.”
“I suppose she’ll never lose that facet of her personality, regardless of any sort of devastation in her life,” Louisa said with a slight chuckle.
