A/N: Can you tell I'm excited about this?! Second update in as many days!
Disclaimer: I don't own Disney. I do own Tom Clarke, Charlotte Gracey, and Essie.
Charlotte woke blearily from a fitful few hours of sleep. She enjoyed a few moments of peaceful oblivion until the events of the previous evening came crashing down back over her, and she promptly burst into tears. She had thought that Tom might have been the one! He had been so polite, and kind, and caring, and so cotton-picking handsome! She still wasn't fully aware of what had even gone wrong. Everything had seemed perfect, and he had taken her into the gardens after the party last night, and the moon was shining, and everything had been so romantic! But then, out of the clear blue sky, he had told her that he was leaving for Arkansas soon, and that they couldn't be together! She wasn't sure how she could even bear it!
Well, at least someone had a good time last night, she thought to herself bitterly. George and Margaret had been coming out to the gardens, giggling and chatting and gazing at each other, when she was going back inside. They were so absorbed in each other that they hadn't even noticed her running past, sobbing her heart out. Well, she hoped that they had a good time, and got married, and lived happily ever after in a little cottage by the sea for the rest of their days…She trailed off on these thoughts in a fresh fit of tears. She knew, deep down, that she should be happy for her older brother. After all, the closest he had ever gotten to a relationship was their cousin Emily batting her eyelashes at him from across the table every Christmas, but she couldn't bear to think of anyone else falling in love and getting married, and having their dreams come true, when her dreams had just been smashed to pieces by another dumb boy!
This has really happened to you too many times, Charlotte, she thought. Your only nineteen years old, after all. She wished now, more than ever, that her father was around to go and give all those boys a good talking too. She heard all the time from her cousin Emily that her father brought out the shotgun every time she started courting a boy, just to scare him into acting like a gentleman. Her father had never been around to do that for her. She often wondered whether George missed their father, too. Sometimes she saw him looking at the portrait of him that hung in the foyer, but she could never tell what he was feeling about it. Sometimes she suspected that he might be angry with their father for leaving them, but other times, she was sure that he was just as sad and confused as she was.
She sat up with a start when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She relaxed down back into her ample pillows when she saw that it was only Essie, her maid, come to dress her and prepare her for going down to breakfast. She nodded vaguely as the girl, only one year younger than she was herself, pulled out a soft green day dress and showed her a choice of accessories. Her mind was not on her clothing selection as much as it was on breakfast, and what she was going to do when she saw Tom there. She did suppose that it would help her cause to wear the dress that Essie had selected. It suited her skin tone perfectly, and the effect of its sloping shoulders made her waist look tiny. She sighed as Essie tugged at her hair with a comb. There would be so much more time left in the day if she could skip this tedious ritual. She did greatly enjoy looking beautiful and the effect it had on the men as she passed them, but she would enjoy it so much more if it didn't take two hours to accomplish.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when she realized that Essie was trying to say something to her.
"Miss Charlotte? Miss Charlotte?" she was saying, a look of concern on her face, "Are you all right, Ma'am?" she asked.
"Wh-? Oh, yes, Essie, I'm fine, were you trying to say something to me?"
"Yes, Miss Charlotte, I was asking if you'd be needing your bonnet this fine sunny morning."
"Oh, yes, my bonnet…No, I don't think I'll be needing it, thank you, though, Essie," she replied, "Oh, and Essie, how many times have I told you to call me Charlotte? You've been my maid for nearly all of my life, you're one of my best friends! You don't need to bother with all of that 'Miss' nonsense, it makes me feel like an old woman."
Essie smiled at her.
"All right, Mis- erm, Charlotte," she complied.
"Essie, why don't you come down to breakfast with me this morning? I'm sure everyone would be delighted to meet you, you're such a charming girl!" Charlotte suggested. This was met with a look of shock on Essie's face.
"Me? Oh, I couldn't possibly, I'm just a maid!" she stuttered.
"Oh, nonsense, Essie, I'd like some company today. It seems Margaret's all wrapped up with that brother of mine, and, unless you count Aunt Melinda, the only other person there I'd have to talk to is that vulgar Tom Clarke. I despise that boy, you know," she added, the fierce look on her face daring Essie to mention how for the past week she'd come back to her rooms gushing about 'that handsome Tom Clarke', but Essie had too much sense to argue with her. Instead, she steered the conversation back towards her invite to breakfast.
"But, Ma'am-Charlotte, I wouldn't have anything suitable to wear!" she pointed out.
"Oh, hush, you can borrow one of my dresses, I'd say we're about the same size!" Charlotte said, shrugging off Essie's continued attempts to comb her hair and crossing over to the wardrobe. "Let's see, what shall you wear this morning?" she muttered to herself, paging through the large supply of day dresses that were hung up neatly in a row. "Oh! This one's perfect!" she squealed, pulling out a deep burgundy calico dress. "This will look just gorgeous on that dark skin of yours, you'll look beautiful!"
Essie looked rather dazzled by the dress in comparison to her own simple, patched up, black cotton uniform. Charlotte assisted her in putting on the hoops and crinoline, and tied her into a loose corset, finally pulling the dress over her head, and fastening the buttons. It felt nice to be doing something other than stand there being dressed, like she did every other morning. It felt satisfying to see Essie practically glowing when she observed her appearance in the mirror. She really did look quite lovely.
"Shall we head down to breakfast?" Charlotte asked, extending her arm. Essie linked her arm through it, a somewhat apprehensive look returning to her face. She nodded weakly, and they, for the first time in the eleven years that Essie had been Charlotte's maid, walked out the door and descended the stairs together.