Charlotte’s cheeks colored and she resumed her task. “You needn’t be so very shocked. I am not a child; I do know the word exists.”
“Yes, but you never use it.” Her mother moved to take a nearby seat, clasping her hands in her lap. “Lottie, are you certain?”
“That I want to marry?” Charlotte laughed softly. “No, it would ruin everything. I’ve always known that. No, marriage is not a sensible course for a woman like me, but I would very much like to find love. And, in good circumstances, marriage should follow love. I’m not accepting a proposal, clearly, but I am opening myself up to the idea.” She paused in her writing, then glanced at her mother. “The only thing I am certain of is that I should like to find love, Mama.”
There, that was simple enough, and rather succinct. Why had it been so difficult to admit for anyone else? Marriage was not the point. Love was.
Her friends had found love, and here she sat.
Even Emma Asheley, now Mrs. Partlowe, had found some sort of affection in her marriage, though she had done the thing rather backwards, which was what the Spinsters and their Chronicles had been striving to avoid.
But not so for Charlotte Wright.
“Love is all that your father and I would wish for you, Lottie,” her mother assured her tenderly. “There would be no cause for you to marry at all without it, not in your circumstances.”
“I know, and I understand how fortunate I am.” Charlotte grinned at her mother quickly. “Not many girls in England can say they’ve had no pressure from their parents to marry, so I thank you for that.”
Her mother laughed merrily. “Oh, Lottie, my love, you think we have not attempted to pressure you? Or that your father has not longed for you to be married afore now? He’s only had a restraining hand from me to keep him from harping on you.”
Charlotte sat back, her grin spreading. “I wondered about that. Poor Papa.”
“He would have disapproved of any beau you had, at any rate,” her mother insisted. “He’d be so very particular, I’m not sure you’d have been married by now had you tried.”
The grin faded just a touch as the words sank in. “That’s just it, Mama. I’m not altogether sure that I have tried. I’ve never really come round to the idea of being courted, despite entertaining a great many fellows. Rather far too many, I should think, considering none of them were serious. I’m not altogether sure that I have behaved my age, if you can believe that.”
“Darling, you haven’t behaved your age since you were three, but it was usually for the better.”
There was a wry sort of truth to that, and Charlotte tilted her head in consideration. “Yes, I suppose, but beyond the age of twenty-five, one ought to possess a little more wisdom and severity than I have done.”
Her mother scoffed haughtily, shaking her head. “Wisdom, perhaps, but severity I will never agree to. You are a bright woman, and severity would not become you.”
Charlotte made a face. “Discretion, then. Surely I could do with more discretion.”
The lack of reply was answer enough.
“There, I see I am correct.” Charlotte hummed and set her pen down, quirking her brows.
Her mother smiled indulgently. “Who is on your list, then?”
Charlotte handed the document over, twisting her lips. “I’m afraid I’m none too pleased with it. Nobody on that list strikes me as being more interesting in any way than anyone else.”
“The point, my love, is that you are to try and find them interesting in spite of your first impression. Your father was a notorious bore before I got to know him, make no mistake.”
“Mama!” Charlotte laughed, clapping her hands. “Was he really?”
Her mother shuddered and grinned. “Oh, Lottie, he droned on and on. I was determined that I would feel nothing for him despite my mother’s wishes. But then I got to know his heart, see his mind, and suddenly the things he was saying were more interesting to me, and far more valuable.”
“But could you get him to stop the droning?” Charlotte pressed impishly.
“Oh, yes,” her mother replied with a nod. “I told him I would enjoy what he said a great deal more if he said a bit less of it. We’ve been smitten ever since.” She winked and rose, rubbing her hands together. “Well, my dear, do enjoy plotting your romantic schemes with the Spinsters. I shan’t intervene, I dare say that is the last thing you need.”
Charlotte smiled and took her mother’s hand as she passed. “Perhaps, but I know now who to come to if I need someone to shut up.”
Her mother clicked her tongue and tapped Charlotte’s cheek. “Oh, you…” She swept from the room with rather the same air as she had entered.
Charlotte only had a moment to breathe before it was announced that her friends had started to arrive, which was well enough, as her list truly was as pitiful as she had informed her mother. Not one of the Best Bachelors would do for her. Not a single one.
What a perfectly discouraging thought.
Feeling rather sour, Charlotte strode into their usual sitting room, smiling limply at Grace as she entered.
“Good morning, Grace. Lovely shade, suits you nicely.”
Grace nodded in greeting. “Thank you, dear. You look a little pale, are you quite well?”
“That’s hardly a fair response,” Charlotte retorted. “I compliment you, and you nearly insult me? Rubbish.”
Her friend rolled her eyes and flicked at her lavender sprigged skirts. “My concern over you outweighed my jealousy of your blue muslin, dear. Apologies for being a true friend. Now, are you well?”
Charlotte managed a smile and sat in her nearest chair. “Well, yes, but I am a trifle disgruntled. Nothing that a good session with the Spinsters will not mend.”
Grace’s high brow furrowed. “What good would the Spinsters do for you?”
“Sensible conversation, for one, and a
