four-poster. Her wheaten hair and green eyes made her kinship to Sir Alexander obvious. Her skin was far paler, however, and the form under the coverlet looked very thin. “Hello.” She coughed on the word, and kept coughing.
“Anne has been ill, but she is much better now,” said Lizzy, as if it had to be true.
“Yes, I am,” declared Anne, and gasped. Her midsection quivered as she struggled to control the coughing.
Charlotte knew it wasn’t true. She’d heard that sort of cough most winters through her childhood.
“I see you’ve met Callie,” Anne added. “What did she do now, Lizzy? I heard shouting.”
“She chewed up one of Alec’s neckcloths. Ames was so angry, he said she is possessed by the devil.” She smiled, revealing a fetching set of dimples.
“Oh, Lizzy.” Her tone was rather like Sir Alexander’s. It mystified Charlotte, who had no brothers or sisters. They didn’t seem to excuse Lizzy; they weren’t precisely angry. Was it worry?
“It is only a neckcloth, and Ames is always so stiff and proper.”
“That does not excuse Callie. You promised to keep her up here…”
“And so I shall, if people will not leave the doors open everywhere.” Lizzy turned away from her sister’s skeptical gaze. “I’m taking Aunt Charlotte to her room.”
“It seems odd to call you aunt,” Anne said with a tired smile.
“Just Charlotte would suit me.” She hesitated, but she had to speak. “You know… my father was troubled by a cough almost every winter. There is an herbal mixture that helped him be rid of it.”
Anne looked surprised, then interested. “Really?”
“We must get some right away!” exclaimed Lizzy.
“I would be happy to try it,” her sister agreed. She coughed again. “This is so very tiresome.” For a moment, her face looked pinched and worn. “Tell Alec the name; he will send someone out to ransack London.”
Charlotte nodded and followed Lizzy back to the hall, then along it to an equally pretty bedchamber papered and hung in blue. “This is yours,” Lizzy said. She went over and rang the bell. The cat squirmed, and she tightened her grip. “I need to take Callie back to the schoolroom. She wants to get down.”
“I can see that she does.”
“And I don’t want her getting loose again… just now.”
“Very wise.”
“Susan will be right up.” Lizzy turned to Lucy. “She can show you…” The cat writhed, nearly escaping her arms. “I must go.” Lizzy ran.
“Seems a funny sort of house,” said Lucy.
“Doesn’t it?” Charlotte agreed.
Once Lucy had been taken under Susan’s wing and gone off to explore her own quarters, Charlotte shed her cloak and bonnet and sat in the armchair by the fire. Everything in this room was lovely—the veined marble hearth, the blue wallpaper subtly striped with cream, the silver candlesticks and Dresden figurine on the mantle. The crackle of the fire soothed in a chamber without drafts; the air was scented with potpourri. She felt her senses open and expand. Her room in Hampshire had been rather like this. She had made her own potpourri, from her mother’s recipe. She had gathered beautiful things around her. Over these past months, it had been easier—imperative—to be shut down, to feel less, and then less still. Now her being stirred, eager to come back to life. And why not?
Charlotte’s hand closed on air. She would not be hemmed in any longer. She was free now—to savor, to expand, to make her own decisions. Nothing could make her return to the cramped, stunted life that Henry had forced upon her. Nothing would.
***
On their way to the top floor, Lucy and Susan passed a housemaid carrying a stack of clean laundry. Her dark blue dress and white apron were neat as a pin, and she gave Lucy a cheerful smile when Susan introduced her. She didn’t stop her work to gossip, however, which raised the household in Lucy’s estimation. When she found her bag already in the cozy chamber she’d been
“Anne has been ill, but she is much better now,” said Lizzy, as if it had to be true.
“Yes, I am,” declared Anne, and gasped. Her midsection quivered as she struggled to control the coughing.
Charlotte knew it wasn’t true. She’d heard that sort of cough most winters through her childhood.
“I see you’ve met Callie,” Anne added. “What did she do now, Lizzy? I heard shouting.”
“She chewed up one of Alec’s neckcloths. Ames was so angry, he said she is possessed by the devil.” She smiled, revealing a fetching set of dimples.
“Oh, Lizzy.” Her tone was rather like Sir Alexander’s. It mystified Charlotte, who had no brothers or sisters. They didn’t seem to excuse Lizzy; they weren’t precisely angry. Was it worry?
“It is only a neckcloth, and Ames is always so stiff and proper.”
“That does not excuse Callie. You promised to keep her up here…”
“And so I shall, if people will not leave the doors open everywhere.” Lizzy turned away from her sister’s skeptical gaze. “I’m taking Aunt Charlotte to her room.”
“It seems odd to call you aunt,” Anne said with a tired smile.
“Just Charlotte would suit me.” She hesitated, but she had to speak. “You know… my father was troubled by a cough almost every winter. There is an herbal mixture that helped him be rid of it.”
Anne looked surprised, then interested. “Really?”
“We must get some right away!” exclaimed Lizzy.
“I would be happy to try it,” her sister agreed. She coughed again. “This is so very tiresome.” For a moment, her face looked pinched and worn. “Tell Alec the name; he will send someone out to ransack London.”
Charlotte nodded and followed Lizzy back to the hall, then along it to an equally pretty bedchamber papered and hung in blue. “This is yours,” Lizzy said. She went over and rang the bell. The cat squirmed, and she tightened her grip. “I need to take Callie back to the schoolroom. She wants to get down.”
“I can see that she does.”
“And I don’t want her getting loose again… just now.”
“Very wise.”
“Susan will be right up.” Lizzy turned to Lucy. “She can show you…” The cat writhed, nearly escaping her arms. “I must go.” Lizzy ran.
“Seems a funny sort of house,” said Lucy.
“Doesn’t it?” Charlotte agreed.
Once Lucy had been taken under Susan’s wing and gone off to explore her own quarters, Charlotte shed her cloak and bonnet and sat in the armchair by the fire. Everything in this room was lovely—the veined marble hearth, the blue wallpaper subtly striped with cream, the silver candlesticks and Dresden figurine on the mantle. The crackle of the fire soothed in a chamber without drafts; the air was scented with potpourri. She felt her senses open and expand. Her room in Hampshire had been rather like this. She had made her own potpourri, from her mother’s recipe. She had gathered beautiful things around her. Over these past months, it had been easier—imperative—to be shut down, to feel less, and then less still. Now her being stirred, eager to come back to life. And why not?
Charlotte’s hand closed on air. She would not be hemmed in any longer. She was free now—to savor, to expand, to make her own decisions. Nothing could make her return to the cramped, stunted life that Henry had forced upon her. Nothing would.
***
On their way to the top floor, Lucy and Susan passed a housemaid carrying a stack of clean laundry. Her dark blue dress and white apron were neat as a pin, and she gave Lucy a cheerful smile when Susan introduced her. She didn’t stop her work to gossip, however, which raised the household in Lucy’s estimation. When she found her bag already in the cozy chamber she’d been
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