Chapter Seven

"You're in," Marian said as they walked side by side down the bustling Nottingham street. She handed Charlotte a wooden tag on a cord, her expression disapproving. "Although I don't know how, considering that you lied to me."

"What?" Charlotte asked, totally confused. Marian stopped and frowned at her.

"You told me that you were sent here to be married off," she said, ice creeping into her voice. Charlotte sighed.

"If your brother had as embarrassing and difficult circumstances as mine, then you would keep it private, wouldn't you?" she asked, her eyes imploring. "Please understand. It's not that I lied to you; I just couldn't bear to tell anyone. I suppose Gisborne told you?"

"Yes," Marian said, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No matter. Did you tell Robin and the gang?"

"Only Robin, but the others will surely find out," Marian said, her tone reflecting her embarrassment. Charlotte shook her head.

"Don't worry about it! I'm not," she said as cheerfully as she could, then steered Marian into a fabric shop. "It's just annoying when the Sheriff has you totally under his control; he's given me a job already."

"What is it?" Marian asked, surprised.

"I am to entertain Sir Arthur what's-his-name when he arrives in two days time- the Sheriff gave me the job this morning. Goodness me, he was in a foul mood yesterday!" she exclaimed. "Apparently he didn't sleep well. He's even worse than my brother in a bad mood," she joked, then said more seriously, "not really." There was a pause as both women admired some cream coloured silk, so soft that it slipped through their fingers.

"How do you know so much?" Marian asked Charlotte suspiciously. "About Robin and the gang, I mean." Charlotte laughed quietly.

"A lot of it I didn't know, I just assumed. If I had been wrong, I would have been in deep trouble, wouldn't I?" Charlotte asked. "I learnt the names from passing travellers on my way to Nottingham- there was a lot of gossip going around, especially from the ladies of Locksley."

"Oh," Marian replied, wondering if that was the whole truth. There was an awkward silence, which Marian felt the need to break. "So you need some dresses?" Marian asked. Charlotte nodded, examining some purple cloth on a rack. "You can borrow some of mine," she offered. Charlotte raised her eyebrows and Marian laughed. "You're right; I'll give you a couple of my old ones to keep. Why are you so skinny?"

"Family curse," Charlotte chuckled. "No, when I was looking after Ewan I often forgot to eat, a bad habit that I had when I was a child. When I was raising the boys- we were orphans, you see- I often went hungry because I was busy feeding them, washing them, playing with them, etcetera, and I didn't remember to eat."

"It must have been hard," Marian observed, carefully watching Charlotte's reaction.

"Sometimes," Charlotte replied, "but I wouldn't have given it up for the world. Besides, ignore me complaining. Let's get on with the shopping."

***

In the end, Charlotte and Marian purchased some deep blue and some crimson red material as well as having Charlotte's measurements taken for a further three dresses. Marian also showed Charlotte some of her old dresses, which she gratefully accepted. When they returned to the castle, Sir Guy was waiting for them.

"How did your shopping go?" he asked, obviously not interested.

"Well, thank you," Charlotte replied. "Marian was very helpful."

"It was good fun," Marian insisted. "Although I am a bit tired now- I should go home." Sir Guy looked crestfallen.

"I hope to see you tomorrow, then," he said. "I have not forgotten what we discussed yesterday," he whispered in Marian's ear. She smiled but on the inside she cringed, dreading any outing with Sir Guy.

"Goodbye," she said and headed off in the direction of the stables. Sir Guy did not take his eyes off her for a second. When she was completely gone, he turned to Charlotte.

"The Sheriff would like to see you in his study," he said, then walked off. Charlotte's heart fell- she was hoping not to see him again for a while. Slowly she made her way up the steps and through the external hallway. When she finally reached his door she paused before knocking, trying to delay the moment as much as possible.

"Come in," he called. Charlotte opened the heavy wooden door and made her way into the semi-darkness, only just lit by a solitary candle on the Sheriff's desk. One end of the table was laden with piles and piles of paperwork, the other had an empty tray on it, probably from lunch.

The Sheriff sat there, writing furiously. He completely ignored Charlotte, who stood there patiently waiting for at least fifteen minutes before he said anything.

"Sit," he ordered, waving at the chair on the opposite side to him. She obeyed wordlessly and he continued to ignore her.

After one full hour, Charlotte decided to speak up. "Do you have any awful conversation starters I can borrow? I've run out." The Sheriff looked up at her.

"How about 'shut up, I'm working'?"

"That would be a riveting conversation," Charlotte muttered under her breath. The Sheriff chuckled to himself.

"Did you get yourself a pretty dress?" he asked her, his voice mocking.

"Yeah, I did, actually. A couple of them."

"I know it's not natural for you to act like a civilised woman, or a woman at all for that matter, but try your hardest," the Sheriff said, carrying on with his writing.

"I should take some lessons from you, Viola," she said casually, studying her nails. The Sheriff's quill suddenly stopped scratching whatever word it was on to the parchment in the bleak blue ink he used. He placed it on the table next to him and stared at Charlotte, who was looking at him rebelliously.

"What did you call me here for, anyway?" Charlotte asked.

"Actually, to apologise," he said, his voice entirely serious. "I behaved inappropriately yesterday, mostly due to my headache but also because I was in a foul mood." Charlotte stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide.

"I beg your pardon?" she demanded. The Sheriff groaned.

"Don't make me say it again."

"Technically, you didn't say it at all." He glared at her.

"I'm sorry for my behaviour yesterday. Forgive me," the Sheriff said, obviously pained. Charlotte smiled warmly at him and for some reason he didn't understand, he felt good inside. Must have been the drink- it probably had strange side effects.

"You do have a conscience," she murmured, looking him right in the eyes. "Of course you're forgiven," she said more loudly.

"All right," he said, "don't go all soppy on me. You may go."

"In other words, get lost?" she asked. He chuckled in a sinister Sheriff sort of way.

"That's exactly right."