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Chapter 30
Mary had made herself busy in the library, leaning back in her chair and reading. Now and then, she would glance at the window and smile to herself, daydreaming about the next time Crispin would visit her.
She missed him greatly, wishing that he had not been forced to keep their private meeting a secret. More than anything, she longed to see him again—and soon. Although she knew that it was not the sort of thing she ought to be doing, there was no other choice.
She and Crispin had been cautious to ensure that there was no question regarding her virtue, and she had appreciated how much respect he had shown her. Still, she wanted to be careful.
They would have to arrange something soon or she felt she might burst. Unless her father was willing to listen to her, she would have no freedom at all. A meeting with Crispin was the only excitement in her day and she craved that excitement again. She also hoped that, eventually, she would be allowed to go out again. She might even happen upon him while riding at some moment as had happened once before.
Mary sighed, thinking about that day and how wonderful it had been. She would need to write a letter to Crispin, reminiscing about how great it had been and how much she longed to ride with him once more.
Sarah was likely to come by within the next few days and Mary committed to herself that she would beg her friend to speak with Crispin and arrange for another meeting. As long as no one in the household found out about it, she knew that they would be safe.
After all, there was no real harm in these meetings. It was not as though anything improper could happen between them and they would surely manage to find a way around any trouble.
Nevertheless, Mary was growing more and more anxious for the chance to see him again. She was no longer certain what the future might hold, but she had a new hope to which she could cling. And as she sat there, staring over the pages of her book, she started to wonder what was going on in Charlotte’s mind as she had chosen to give up on the man she loved for the sake of trying to ruin Mary.
As if by magic, the door of the library opened and Charlotte entered, looking up at Mary and biting her lip. Mary could see that something was bothering her stepsister, but Charlotte hardly ever approached Mary if she did not have to.
After all, why would she want to discuss anything that had happened? Mary was rather overcome by the circumstances and Charlotte was glad to see her pushed aside, wasn’t she? Surely Charlotte was every bit at fault as Mary thought.
But the sadness in Charlotte’s eyes answered the questions in Mary’s heart.
Her stepsister was aching for the man she loved.
“Charlotte? What is it?” Mary asked.
Charlotte quietly made her way to sit near Mary and looked up with such a deep despair that Mary couldn’t be sure her stepsister had been responsible for any of this to begin with.
“Please, tell me what troubles you,” Mary said.
“Why?” Charlotte asked, her voice breaking. Then, with a slight bitterness, she asked, “What have I done to earn your kind ear?”
Mary clenched her jaw, knowing that it was a very decent question. Charlotte had been so deeply unkind to Mary that there was no reason at all for Mary to trust her. And yet, Mary knew that she ought to be gentle with Charlotte. The poor girl had such an awful mother; it certainly wasn’t her fault that she had been raised so ruthlessly.
“Charlotte, there is no need to ask such a question. No matter how a person behaves towards me, I will give them a tender, listening ear when they need it. I would be grieved if I were inclined to hatred,” Mary replied, choosing her words very carefully.
It was perfectly clear to her that Charlotte would have preferred to be scolded by Mary, but Mary still could not be sure as to why. What had inspired Charlotte’s strange behaviour? Was she actually putting her trust in Mary? Or was there something else afoot? Was this simply a further part of Lady Rachel’s plan?
“Now, Charlotte, please do tell me what all of this is about. Has something happened?” Mary asked.
“Do you think I am terribly wicked, Mary? Am I a dreadful girl with no manners at all? Am I deserving of love or is it right that I have been forced to choose and yet not given a choice at all?” Charlotte asked, clearly fighting against the tears in her eyes.
Mary thought she could guess what Charlotte was speaking of, but she did not wish to presume. Nevertheless, she chose to gently push forward in her efforts to find out what all of this was about.
“What sort of choice? I do not think that anyone is deserving of being forced into something which grieves them, but I also cannot be sure what it is that you mean,” Mary said.
For a long moment, Charlotte stared at the floor, her eyes cast down with the sort of sadness that can only be felt when one knows they are doing something which will inevitably hurt them. But she did nothing more and Mary wanted to give her a moment to find her peace and be ready to speak.
At last, Charlotte took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. “Mary—”
The door of the library opened. Lady Rachel stepped in, her air of pride and wrath both overwhelming in the worst of ways. As soon as she entered, Charlotte was silent, swiping at her eyes and looking at her mother with worry.
She had clearly been caught in her willingness to come and speak with Mary and her mother was obviously displeased. The sneer on her face was enough to tell Mary that she was angry about the two of them discussing anything of importance.
“And what is my daughter doing in here with the young woman who has been such a poor influence of late?” Lady Rachel asked.
“Mother, please,” Charlotte said. It appeared to Mary that she was trying to keep her frustration at bay, but Mary sensed that it was very difficult for her stepsister.
