No more.
Tonight, she would begin anew, and she would hunt for love the way she should have done from the beginning. The lone remaining Spinster with a capital S who was also a spinster of the other variety would soon join the ranks of her peers, and no one would ever claim she had not tried to do so again.
“Yes,” Charlotte told Grace, eventually answering the question posed. “New suitors are what I would prefer. The highest quality, if you please.”
Grace grinned at the addition. “And who shall be keeper of the candidates, Miss Wright?”
“Why, you, if you’ve an interest.” Charlotte waved a hand regally, a queen in her imagined court. “Send the riffraff away, and only my most valuable options may kneel.”
“Marquesses, dukes, and very wealthy earls,” Grace announced with a firm nod. “Yes, my lady.”
Charlotte would have shrugged had Annette allowed it. “Titles don’t mean so very much to me, as it happens. It would be lovely, but I can hardly make that a requirement. Dukes, after all, do not grow on trees. I already have wealth, so what I really need is land.”
Grace clapped her hands, laughing merrily. “Oh, but this is perfect! I shall interview each man that wishes to approach. ‘Pardon me, sir, but how much property do you own?’ And if it be not the finest estate in its county, we shall not accept it!”
“Erm…” Charlotte held up a finger, wincing. “Might we be excused from Northumberland?”
“Northumberland is quite lovely, Miss Charlotte,” Annette chimed in with her own slight laugh. “Have you never been?”
Charlotte met the maid’s eyes in the looking glass. “When would I have been to Northumberland, Annette? I’ve nothing against the place, to be sure, it’s only the furthest one can get while remaining in England, and that does not interest me in the least.”
“What if you catch the eye of a dashing Scotsman?” Grace asked. “Or an Irishman with the voice of a god?”
“That’s altogether different,” Charlotte insisted, sniffing as she averted her eyes. “If I am to live outside of England, so be it. It can be quite fashionable to be in Scotland or Ireland much of the year. But if I am to be in England, I only ask that it not be so difficult to get to the rest of the country.”
Grace snickered and shook her head. “I shall do my best to render that possible. I do not promise to keep from Northumberland, though. Now you mention it, I think you would be well suited to the county…”
Charlotte scowled at her friend playfully, her head rocking back a little as Annette pulled again. “You’ll find my amusement rapidly waning, Lady Ingram.”
“Alas, that is when I find mine increases.” Grace batted her lashes, baring a would-be innocent smile for her. She sobered and began to nod fervently. “Oh, yes, Annette. Absolutely lovely. A marvelous shade, I think.”
Shade? What shade could there be when Charlotte would resemble an adorned snowbank?
Grace moved to stand in front of the looking glass before Charlotte could see, a small smile returning to her face.
Charlotte placed a very deep frown on hers in response. “Grace…”
“Give it a moment, Charlotte,” she answered in a voice that held more excitement than her expression or frame allowed. “Trust me in this. Just a few moments more.”
Sighing, Charlotte all but slumped back in her chair, and likely would have done were she not in the process of being trussed into the personification of a ray of light. A few moments for what? She was well aware of her appearance, and it wasn’t likely to change in a particularly shocking way. What was a new frock and a new style of hair, after all?
Would any of this truly be of benefit to her?
Images of Charlotte standing alone near a wall of the Preston family ballroom filled her mind, the feeling of a full two-meter radius seeming to extend from her imagination to her reality, and she shivered. Were any ideas of gossip columns circulating in the minds of London Society, the sight of her standing so acutely abandoned would certainly be described therein. As it was, the spoken gossip would carry her name in such a reference for weeks.
That would not help her get a husband.
Something cool brushed against the exposed skin of her chest and moved upwards to her throat. Her hand moved to touch it, and the smooth spheres beneath her fingertips surprised her.
“Pearls?” she asked the others. “When the gown has pearls already?”
Grace nodded fervently. “Oh, yes. One moment more, and you shall see.” She bit her lip very briefly, nearly dancing where she stood.
How in the world could anyone else’s dressing up create such joy and anticipation for her? Charlotte would never be good enough in her wildest imaginations to feel so much on someone else’s behalf, but this was why she was friends with people like Izzy and Grace. Their influence was undoubtedly responsible for any of the sweetness that Charlotte had developed in her nature, but none of them had managed to bring her into true goodness.
Not yet.
She felt Annette’s hands gently press against the sides of her hair and thought that perhaps some sort of conclusion had been reached.
Impossibly, she held her breath.
Grace held out her hands and pulled Charlotte to her feet. “Now, my dear, I think you need to see yourself. Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready from the beginning, oh noble jailer,” Charlotte muttered, moving to the looking glass Grace had hidden from her.
Her jaw dropped at the sight.
The folds of white and shimmer of pearls rendered her an almost ethereal air, and while the neckline was indeed lower, the expanded view of her skin only added to the charm of it all. Nothing was excessively revealed, and, in fact, seemed somehow more secure than many of the other gowns she had worn a few times over. All about her was white, including the newly purchased
