Charity's mouth.
"My brother might not seem to possess business savvy, but I assure you he can do anything he puts his mind to." Her expression troubled, Percy said, "In retrospect, I think Papa erred in trying to browbeat Paul into working at Fines & Co. My brother is as stubborn as a mule: the more you push him, the harder he plants his heels. He and my father had endless rows over it."
Charity recalled some of these arguments. Several times, when she'd been over visiting with Percy, she'd overheard the raised voices coming from Jeremiah Fines' study. Words like "irresponsible" and "reckless" had seeped through the walls.
Empathy had filled her. Living up to a parent's expectations was never easy. She'd tried to please her father all her life.
Mr. Fines, on the other hand, had seemed inclined to employ the opposite strategy.
"My brother is a capable fellow, however," Percy went on, "and when he decides upon a thing, he's utterly dedicated. Look at his success at boxing. And he's loyal too: even at his lowest point last year, he risked life and limb to defend my honor." Her eyes shimmered. "I've always looked up to him."
"I know," Charity said gently. "But the fact remains that Mr. Fines would have no interest in Sparkler's. Or, more importantly, me. I'm not the sort of girl your brother fancies."
I'm no Rosalind Drummond.
" You are an absolute gem, and my brother would be lucky to have you." Percy chewed on her lower lip. "Oh, I just wish he would grow up!"
"Keep your promise to me. You'll say nothing to your brother—to anyone—about my trip to Spitalfields. Swear it, Percy."
Charity held out her gloved pinkie. Her friend hesitated before doing the same. Their fingers caught and held in the most solemn of vows.
"For a girl who's supposedly quiet and reserved, you argue like a bloody barrister, you know," Percy grumbled.
*****
A half hour later, Charity parted with Percy, who was ready for a nap after all. Not wanting to waste the lovely afternoon, Charity continued the walk alone. She saw Sarah in the distance chatting with the other maids and decided not to disturb their conversation. In truth, she wished for time alone with her thoughts. Spying a path in the woods that bordered the gardens, she made her way over, letting out a sigh of pleasure as the cool, leafy shade enveloped her.
Here, her worries abated. The country idyll was a rare escape from the bustling, smoke-choked bosom of London. Here, she took in buzzing dragonflies and chirping birds rather than clattering carriage wheels and raucous street mongers pitching their wares. Even the splendors of Hyde Park paled in comparison to this verdant, untamed paradise.
Surrounded by towering oaks, overgrown bushes, and glittering streams of sunlight, Charity felt removed from the troubles of the world. There was only the spongy squish of her kid boots against the forest floor and the humid air bathing her senses. A pair of squirrels darted across her path, their bushy grey tails swishing as their game of chase took them high into the leafy boughs. Through perforations in the forest canopy, she spied birds winging through the sky.
What would it be like to be so … free?
She wasn't accustomed to such idle thoughts. Her ordinary life was organized around gainful activity: an unending list of tasks to be completed at the shop and another list when she returned home. She enjoyed keeping busy. It prevented her from the devil's work—from thinking too much. And from futile … longing.
For the attention of her father, who already had too many burdens upon his shoulders. For the care of her mother, who she wished she might have known. And for …
A love that can't be mine.
She caught herself. Solitude was making for a poor companion indeed, if it encouraged her to indulge in such foolish thoughts.
"What is the matter with you, Charity Sparkler?" she said aloud. "You're carrying on like the heroine of a maudlin opera. Next thing you know, the violins
"My brother might not seem to possess business savvy, but I assure you he can do anything he puts his mind to." Her expression troubled, Percy said, "In retrospect, I think Papa erred in trying to browbeat Paul into working at Fines & Co. My brother is as stubborn as a mule: the more you push him, the harder he plants his heels. He and my father had endless rows over it."
Charity recalled some of these arguments. Several times, when she'd been over visiting with Percy, she'd overheard the raised voices coming from Jeremiah Fines' study. Words like "irresponsible" and "reckless" had seeped through the walls.
Empathy had filled her. Living up to a parent's expectations was never easy. She'd tried to please her father all her life.
Mr. Fines, on the other hand, had seemed inclined to employ the opposite strategy.
"My brother is a capable fellow, however," Percy went on, "and when he decides upon a thing, he's utterly dedicated. Look at his success at boxing. And he's loyal too: even at his lowest point last year, he risked life and limb to defend my honor." Her eyes shimmered. "I've always looked up to him."
"I know," Charity said gently. "But the fact remains that Mr. Fines would have no interest in Sparkler's. Or, more importantly, me. I'm not the sort of girl your brother fancies."
I'm no Rosalind Drummond.
" You are an absolute gem, and my brother would be lucky to have you." Percy chewed on her lower lip. "Oh, I just wish he would grow up!"
"Keep your promise to me. You'll say nothing to your brother—to anyone—about my trip to Spitalfields. Swear it, Percy."
Charity held out her gloved pinkie. Her friend hesitated before doing the same. Their fingers caught and held in the most solemn of vows.
"For a girl who's supposedly quiet and reserved, you argue like a bloody barrister, you know," Percy grumbled.
*****
A half hour later, Charity parted with Percy, who was ready for a nap after all. Not wanting to waste the lovely afternoon, Charity continued the walk alone. She saw Sarah in the distance chatting with the other maids and decided not to disturb their conversation. In truth, she wished for time alone with her thoughts. Spying a path in the woods that bordered the gardens, she made her way over, letting out a sigh of pleasure as the cool, leafy shade enveloped her.
Here, her worries abated. The country idyll was a rare escape from the bustling, smoke-choked bosom of London. Here, she took in buzzing dragonflies and chirping birds rather than clattering carriage wheels and raucous street mongers pitching their wares. Even the splendors of Hyde Park paled in comparison to this verdant, untamed paradise.
Surrounded by towering oaks, overgrown bushes, and glittering streams of sunlight, Charity felt removed from the troubles of the world. There was only the spongy squish of her kid boots against the forest floor and the humid air bathing her senses. A pair of squirrels darted across her path, their bushy grey tails swishing as their game of chase took them high into the leafy boughs. Through perforations in the forest canopy, she spied birds winging through the sky.
What would it be like to be so … free?
She wasn't accustomed to such idle thoughts. Her ordinary life was organized around gainful activity: an unending list of tasks to be completed at the shop and another list when she returned home. She enjoyed keeping busy. It prevented her from the devil's work—from thinking too much. And from futile … longing.
For the attention of her father, who already had too many burdens upon his shoulders. For the care of her mother, who she wished she might have known. And for …
A love that can't be mine.
She caught herself. Solitude was making for a poor companion indeed, if it encouraged her to indulge in such foolish thoughts.
"What is the matter with you, Charity Sparkler?" she said aloud. "You're carrying on like the heroine of a maudlin opera. Next thing you know, the violins
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