“Thank God,” Cam said without any hesitation whatsoever. “Has anyone been waiting for this as long as I have?”
Several hands raised, and Henshaw glared at each of them in turn. “Marvelous help you all were here, thank you.” He looked at Charlotte with a quick grin. “I win, my dear.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are not married yet, Hensh. But you do have my profound congratulations.” She smiled at them both, then stepped out of the way in order to let the others through. She sank into a nearby chair, exhaling a weary, heavy sigh.
“I know that sound all too well, my dear.”
Charlotte turned her head to look at Lady Hetty, quietly sitting in her chair and surveying the room as a whole. “Why do I believe that?”
Lady Hetty’s smile, rarer in sight than even Lord Radcliffe’s, was almost whimsical on her wrinkled face. “I know a little something of being the last, Charlotte. I know the pain of seeing those you hold dear happy and thriving in all the ways you would wish and not having the same yourself.”
In an instant, Charlotte’s eyes began to water, and she bit her lip. “It seems so simple, in a way. And yet the path of it is hidden from me.”
“Oh, you’re well on your way; I heard them.” She lifted her chin towards the group and winked at Charlotte. “A handsome man, and no mistaking it. Good catch.”
Charlotte sniffled, laughing at the comment. “I haven’t caught him yet. And I don’t even know why I bothered wanting marriage at all. You of all people know what I would sacrifice. Perhaps this pain is proof that I shouldn’t do this.”
Lady Hetty thumped her walking stick against the ground hard. “Charlotte Wright, do you think I have chosen my life out of fear or surrender?”
“No…” she said at once, more out of defense than a true response. “Of course not, I simply…”
“A wealthy spinster is still a spinster, my child,” Lady Hetty interrupted. “I have remained so because I never had reason enough to marry. I was like you, popular and sociable. Well sought after and the envy of several. Fortune hunters had no chance with me if I did not like them for themselves. And, as it happened, I did not with most of them. I do not regret the path my life has taken, but that does not mean it is to be envied.”
Charlotte frowned at that. “Would it make me a fraud? To proclaim in our Chronicles that there are worse things than being a spinster, and then to marry?”
Lady Hetty’s eyes narrowed, and she exhaled as she studied Charlotte. “Would you be marrying to avoid remaining a spinster? Or would you be marrying for love, affection, comfort, or any other sensible reason that an heiress would choose to do so of her own will?”
Charlotte’s eyes immediately shifted back to the dance floor, where Michael and Janet still danced, laughing merrily together. “It would be because I love him,” she admitted in a whisper. “And because I could not bear to lose him.”
“Then I would say you are practicing what you preach, my dear.” Lady Hetty patted her hands twice, then squeezed them. “And if that idiot boy doesn’t snap you up, I invite you to come live out your days with me. I’ll even leave you the house in my will. Make a spinster fortress in my name.”
Charlotte laughed at the images her mind was conjuring, then turned to the older woman and pressed a fond kiss to her cheek, surprising them both. “I quite adore you, my lady, and I don’t care a fig for what anybody else says about you.”
Lady Hetty’s eyes turned misty, and she pinched Charlotte’s cheek. “Everybody else is jealous, girl, make no mistake. And if you manage to marry before that Henshaw fellow, I’ll give you a barouche as a wedding present.”
“Deal, my lady,” Charlotte agreed with a laugh too loud for polite company, but not caring a fig for that, either.
Epilogue
On occasion, one must be rather decisive about things. It is the only way to bring about results. But only on occasion.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 15 November 1819
There was something about being in the Wright family home that made Michael smile no matter the occasion. It was his home away from home, and events held there might as well have been ones he hosted. He didn’t mean to take up the responsibilities, but he knew the house and the people so well that he seemed to take part in the duties without intending to. Any time he saw opportunity, he acted on it.
The garden party today would be different. Mostly because he was fascinated by what Charlotte would try to do.
After their private word on the terrace, she’d tried again to speak with him alone when they were at the Ingrams’ home for an afternoon of conversation and games. Unfortunately, she had tried to commandeer him during the lawn games that had started, which had not helped matters.
“Michael, there is something that I really must discuss with you as soon as possible. Would you mind walking with me?” she’d asked, her smile bright, but forced.
He’d nodded, but then Aubrey, Lord Ingram, had come and insisted that Michael come and partner him for bowls. With an apologetic shrug to Charlotte, Michael had gone along with him rather than take the private word with her.
The glare she had launched at Aubrey’s back would have killed the man had anything materialized from it.
The ferocity in her eyes had started Michael thinking, and he had done little else since. What could she want to speak with him about that could not be said before company? She’d never been particularly private, though some occasions between them had held conversations he doubted she had shared with others. But those times
