4 December 1804
Dear Diary,
I write in you now, fearing that I will quite simply lose my mind if I don't find some way to communicate the direness of my current predicament.
"You know, Charlotte, you really shouldn't mutter." Fanny scolded from behind the partition where she was changing into a more formal evening gown. Charlotte rolled her eyes and began to verbalize her writing in a far more pronounced tone.
Fanny is once again fussing over my mannerisms and will likely make me vomit before the night is out, as her latest beau, Hugh Patel, will be joining us for dinner tonight, and she is sure to make a complete coquette of herself.
"Excuse me?" A far sterner voice replied. Charlotte winced as her mother entered the room. Fanny peeked over the divider, a smirk on her face. "Heaven help us, Charlotte. Here you are, sprawled across your bed, writing in that execrable journal again and you're not even dressed! Honestly, it's a wonder you're of any relation at all." Sophia raised a hand to her face, placing her fingertips delicately between her furrowed eyebrows, and sighed, as if she had a horrific headache coming on. Just then, Fanny stepped out from behind the panels of delicately painted wood. Smiling, she spun around gracefully, showing off her new gown. "Oh Fanny! You look splendid! Here, come and look at yourself in front of the mirror."
"Do I really, mother?" Fanning said innocently. "I was under the impression I might have resembled too closely a…oh how did you put it, dearest Charlotte? A coquette?" Fanning gave Charlotte a sharp glare before turning back to her reflection. The two began to prattle and fuss with Fanny's hair, ignoring Charlotte completely. Charlotte huffed and turned back to her journal.
Just then, her much younger brother, George, ran into the room. Sophia's cry of alarm announced his presence and Charlotte turned to face the cause of her distress. The sandy-haired little boy stood proudly in the doorway, completely naked. By the look of his dirt-streaked hands and face, it seemed that he had just escaped the clutches of the new housemaid in her attempt to give him a bath. Charlotte laughed at the sight and sat up on the bed, opening her arms to him. The little boy ran to her arms, giggling, just as a red-faced woman in a black and white uniform came staggering into the room. She straightened up at the sight of the ladies of the household, struggling to catch her breath.
"I beg your pardon, Lady Aubrey. The young master is a bit quick for me. I couldn't keep a hold of him." Sophia pursed her lips disapprovingly, but Charlotte smiled. She tugged one of the bed sheets loose and covered the boy in it.
"Think nothing of it." Charlotte looked for help, not having learned the new maid's name yet.
"Libby. Libby Alwin, Miss." The maid uttered, curtseying awkwardly.
"Well, Libby," Charlotte began, pausing only to stand and perch the boy on one jutted out hip, her arm slung freely around him as she had seen some of the townswomen do during their walks, "Let's see if we can't get this little grasshopper to stop jumping around for a bit,". Charlotte stopped halfway to the door, a thoughtful look on her face. "Better yet," she said, crouching down, "Why not let the grasshopper hop his way back to the bathtub?" She tapped the boy's nose with her index finger playfully and he giggled. Putting him down, the boy immediately sprinted out of the room and back the way he came, his makeshift garment forgotten at Charlotte's feet. The maid blushed and curtseyed again before resuming the chase, all the while stifling her laughter. Charlotte looked up at the horrified faces of her sister and mother and shot them a devilish grin before reluctantly turning towards the evening gown her mother had chosen for her.
Dinner proved to be quite a bit more entertaining than Charlotte originally thought it would. Charlotte was a bit more than surprised when Hugh arrived with a co-worker of his who's only intention was to catch Charlotte's eye. This was something her mother had failed to mention before. Declan Tate, as the young man was later introduced as, was lanky and pale. His eyes were dark and beady, as though they meant to look straight into one's soul. His hair was inky and always seemed slightly damp. She noticed that he often ran a hand through it casually after making some sort of snarky remark, which happened more often than she would have liked. Sophia seemed easily won over by his exceedingly wide, flashy grin, but Charlotte found his too-straight teeth and furtive glances eerie and falsehearted. He was such a contrast to Hugh's blonde locks and gentle eyes.
She found her mother giving her increasingly piercing looks as she tried her best to ignore the gentleman's advances, turning more often to George's infamous "dinner antics". Charlotte blocked out her mother's frustrated sighs to the best of her ability, relieved when another one of their maids, Amber, distracted her with news of someone at the door. Sophia was about to inform Amber to shoo the unexpected guest away, when the familiar voice of Jack Aubrey echoed down the hall. Charlotte was out of her chair and halfway down the hall before her father could even finish greeting their butler, Conall.
"Father!" She shouted. Jack turned, a grin on his face. His arms opened and Charlotte threw her own around his neck. "You're early!" She cried out gaily.
"Are you disappointed?" He teased, kissing her cheek. "Ah, let me have a good look at you!" He said, pulling away, holding her shoulders at arm's length. "My, my! You're turning into a lady!"
"Are you disappointed?" Charlotte shot back, a mock frown on her face. Jack turned to the young boy now struggling feverishly to break free of the arms of a rather thwarted-looking Sophia. After Jack settled in for a bit and greeted the rest of his family and their guests, they all sat back down to resume their evening meal. Jack raised an eyebrow at the sight of Mr. Tate's attempts at courting Charlotte and looked at her questioningly. Charlotte rolled her eyes and shook her head in response. A couple of minutes into their dessert course, Hugh stood up unexpectedly. He tapped the side of his glass with his fork a few times, drawing everyone's attention.
"I would just like to make a small toast to the homecoming of Captain Aubrey. We are glad of you're safe return." Everyone quietly murmured polite approval and raised their glasses. Jack nodded his thanks towards Hugh. When Hugh didn't sit down, Jack raised a brow in interest. Hugh, seeing everyone's stares, nervously cleared his throat a couple of times before speaking again.
"I would also like to take this time to ask Fanny…if she would be my wife." Charlotte's eyes widened and Jack choked on an unfortunately timed sip of wine. Both Sophia and Fanny squealed with excitement.
"Oh Hugh!" Fanny shrieked, "Of course I will! And to think, you asked me the day before my birthday! How sweet!"
"Our birthday," Charlotte muttered under her breath. Sophia shushed her and waved her complaint away with a flick of her wrist, as though batting away a fly. Jack, still coughing, excused himself from the table and went off to another room. Charlotte muttered an excuse of needing to "powder her nose" and briskly left before either her mother or the somewhat put out Mr. Tate could object, scooping a rather confused George out of his seat and into her arms on the way. Charlotte found her father in the sitting room, a drink in one hand, massaging his temple with the other. Charlotte put George down and the little boy ran to his father, climbing onto his lap with a worried expression on his face. Jack finished the last sip of his drink and gave his son a reassuring, though not entirely genuine smile. Charlotte sat down on the couch next to her father and took the empty glass from his hand, placing it on a nearby end table. It was a while before either of them spoke. Charlotte, uncomfortable with the silence, cleared her throat.
"Well…welcome home." She said, shrugging. Jack grunted in reply. George found interest in playing with the shiny buttons on Jack's uniform, which he had been reluctant to take off in light of their company, something Charlotte still didn't quite understand. A minute or so passed and Libby came to take George up to bed. Jack and Charlotte kissed the boy good-night and Charlotte spoke up again. "I'm sorry this happened. I know it wasn't quite the homecoming you were expecting."
"Damn right it wasn't." Jack muttered back. Though his words came sharp, Charlotte knew they weren't directed at her, so she sat patiently and listened to her father's ranting as he began pacing across the floor. "What happened to asking the father's permission for their daughter's hand in marriage? Did I miss something? I don't even know this man! Is he any good? I mean, he's clearly associated with that other chap, and he doesn't right at all." Charlotte watched as her father collapsed on to a nearby chair. "I need a drink," he muttered. Charlotte kneeled at her father's feet, and took one of his hands in hers.
"Father, I assure you, Hugh will be good to Fanny. I'll admit, he was a bit foolish to go about proposing that way, but he's a good man. He will treat her right." While Charlotte spoke genuinely, a flicker of doubt hung in the back of her mind. I just hope Fanny will do the same for him.
For the next couple of weeks, whenever Fanny's engagement was brought up in conversation (which was often), Sophia was always quick to point out Charlotte's lack of suitors.
"You're not getting any younger, my dear. At this point, you should be grateful to any attention you receive from a man," Sophia announced one day. It was no secret that she was referring to Mr. Tate, who had called on Charlotte on several occasions since the dinner party, all of which she had been able to avoid, much to her mother's dismay. Though, a few days before Christmas, Charlotte was sent out to run some errands for her mother. On her way home, Mr. Tate just happened to cross her path. Knowing all too well that her mother had planned this, Charlotte grudgingly allowed him to escort her home. As they walked, Charlotte found herself growing increasingly annoyed as Mr. Tate's conversation grew more and more pointed.
"Now, what I can't understand, is why such a beautiful woman as yourself, is unmarried. It's no secret that you are the prettier twin." Mr. Tate said, his eyes wandering the length of Charlotte's figure. Charlotte overlooked these comments, not wanting to give him a reason to continue. Unfortunately, Mr. Tate found Charlotte to be a challenge; one he had never had with a woman, and he was determined to win. When they got to the porch of the Aubrey house, Charlotte turned curtly to Mr. Tate.
"Thank you for your company," she said quickly. She may not have liked him, but she wasn't going to be impolite. As she turned back, Mr. Tate caught the nook of her elbow.
"Miss Aubrey. Wait. I was hoping you would allow me to give you an early Christmas gift,". Charlotte turned back to see Mr. Tate pull a small, rectangular box from his coat pocket. It was wrapped in colorful paper, with a white bow on the top.
"Oh, Mr. Tate. I'm sorry. I cannot accept this." Charlotte said shaking her head. Mr. Tate gently grabbed one of her gloved hands and placed the box in it.
"Miss Aubrey, I can't let you leave without knowing for sure that even this small token won't melt the winter ice from your heart. Please. I insist." Charlotte looked to Mr. Tate's pitiable expression, and for once, her heart didn't harden. She slowly undid the ribbon and removed the paper from the box. Inside the box there was a beautiful pearl necklace with a golden pendant in the shape of a sun. Charlotte gasped and Mr. Tate smiled victoriously. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw her mother peeking out of the front window. Realizing she had been caught, Sophia pulled the curtains forcefully shut. Charlotte shut the box vigorously and pushed it back in Mr. Tate's hands.
"Mr. Tate. This is all too kind of you, but I really cannot take this from you. It is far too expensive and I have nothing to give in return." Charlotte rambled.
"See, now that's where I have to disagree with you, Miss Aubrey. I feel you have everything to give in return." Mr. Tate said brazenly, taking a step towards her. Charlotte, hearing the change of tone in Mr. Tate's voice, took a step back, her back pressing up against the wall. She put a hand out, pressing it against his chest, meaning to keep him at arm's length.
"No, Mr. Tate. I don't. And I don't deserve this. Not from you. Not when I can't share the same…emotions as you." Charlotte stammered a bit, dodging the topic as best as she could. Mr. Tate's arms came out, one to palm the wall above Charlotte's shoulder, the other to grasp the hand still resting on his chest, enclosing it in his. Charlotte tried to pull her hand back, shrinking against the wall.
"Oh, Charlotte," Mr. Tate whispered condescendingly, "You will." And with that, Mr. Tate kissed Charlotte hard on the mouth. Pinned against the wall, there was nothing that Charlotte could do. Her protests were stifled. Charlotte went still. After a moment Mr. Tate pulled away. "And please, call me Declan."
Charlotte's hand shot out faster than even she could have anticipated, striking Mr. Tate's cheek with a satisfying smack. That same hand flew to her own mouth in shock. Mr. Tate cried out in surprise and grabbed his cheek. Flustered, Charlotte dropped the box he had given her at his feet.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She uttered, scrambling for the doorknob. Finding it, she opened it just wide enough to back herself into it before slamming it shut. Bracing herself against the door, she listened to the sound of Mr. Tate's muttered curses growing faint as he marched out into the snow. When she finally couldn't hear him anymore, she let herself relax.
"Charlotte?" Her mother called from the other room. Wonderful, Charlotte thought mordantly, as she sluggishly wandered into the sitting room. There she saw her mother sitting in her chair, innocently doing some needlework. Her father was by the fireplace, reading a book. They both looked up when she walked through the door. "Oh Charlotte, please." Her mother grumbled, gazing exasperatingly at her wet boots. Charlotte huffed and grudgingly removed her shoes, placing them down in the hall. Coming back in the room she curtseyed to her mother grandly.
"Anything else, My Queen?"
"Charlotte." Her father said sharply. She looked over to see him staring at her, a brow raised at her impudence. Charlotte sat. Her mother calmly put down her needlework and looked up at her. "Well? How did you're day go?" She asked. Charlotte rolled her eyes.
"Do you mean 'How did your walk home with Mr. Tate go?'? Very well indeed, Mother. Thank you for asking!" Charlotte said furiously, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Oh tosh!" Sophia said, "Was it really all that bad? Come on; let's see that pretty gift he gave you."
"I didn't take it."
"Well, why ever not?" Her mother said, frowning.
"I just couldn't accept it."
"Come now, you must have a better reason than that!" Her mother pressed. Charlotte took a deep breath.
"He kissed me."
"Well, that's hardly reason to turn down a-"
"I hit him."
"…You did what!?"
The rest of Sophia's exclamations could barely be heard over the sound of Jack's thunderous laughter. But the end result was clear; Charlotte was being sent to her Aunt Isobel's house "until she learned to be a lady".