Hi, friends! Remember me?

You get an extra-long chapter! My way of apologizing for not updating since the year -redacted-. Ahem.

Enjoy!

4/3/17

Looks like I jumped the gun. For whatever reason, I always seem to find a few errors immediately after uploading a new chapter. Here's a new version of Chapter 7 with a couple of edits I really couldn't leave out… Sorry about that! If you'd like to know what changed (nothing plot-centric), PM me and I'll be happy to let you know!

maritinkerbell, in case I lose your review, I did see it! Thank you! :3


I sat in the hall for I don't know how long. Three times, I stood to return to the queen's solar, and three times, I sank back down again, heart hammering. I didn't want to think about weddings, household staff, or children. I couldn't bake in that room of sunshine, acting cheerful while my life was planned out for me. I had to think things through, somehow. I had to talk to Mandy. She would have a solution. She always did.

The door opened, and Char stepped into the hall. He was alone. I realized I was overjoyed to see him. He gave me a worried look and held out a hand. "Is everything all right?"

I let him help me up. "I'm sorry," I said. "Just a headache. I think I just need some air. Will you walk with me?"

"Of course."

Something eased inside of me. I held him as we made our way down the winding stair and through a series of back passages that I gathered were mostly used by servants. Neither of us spoke until we had made our way out to the grounds, covered in an unmarred sheet of white snow. We were without our furs, but for now, the chill was welcome, and Char's body gave me warmth. We started down a path that picked its way down a steep hill and meandered through an orchard alongside the castle.

Only once we were among the frozen, fruitless apple trees did Char speak. "My father asked me to discuss something with you," he said.

I looked up at him. "Yes?"

He looked hesitant, and a tinge of pink appeared on his face. "He asked… that is, he… well, he wanted to know…"

"Whether he should expect a grandchild?" I said, echoing Cecilia's words from earlier.

Char smiled sheepishly. "In short." He regarded me carefully. "He advises us to be… patient when it comes to children. I told him I could make no decision on your behalf," he added quickly. "Whatever we do, we shall decide it together."

"I'm in no hurry," I said at once, feeling a sense of overwhelming relief. "I don't want to share you with anyone. Not until I have to."

He laughed at that, and the expression he settled on showed he was just as relieved as I. "Nor I you," he said. "I'm glad we're in agreement."

He couldn't know it, but his words had lifted a tremendous burden from my heart. So I wouldn't be a mother in a year's time, or two, or five, if I didn't want to be. By royal mandate. I felt myself straighten a bit, and my breathing came more easily.

"There's something else," said Char. This time, his expression told me I would not like what he had to say. "There's a bandit we've been tracking for some time. More than a bandit, really. He runs a notorious underground trade ring and deals in… well, his business isn't important. Suffice it to say he is a deplorable human being, and he's been at large in Kyrria for over a decade.

"In any case, this villain was recently sighted on the outskirts of Jenn. According to my father's source, he has been badly injured and will likely stay in Jenn for some time. We have a golden opportunity to capture him."

I nodded. I had the sinking feeling I knew where this was going.

Char confirmed my suspicions. "Father wants me to go," he said. "If the source is correct, it will be an easy undertaking, and to be responsible for this man's capture would advance me in the public eye. It wouldn't be a long journey. A week, perhaps."

A week not a long journey! "How soon would you depart?"

"Three days from tomorrow."

My heart sank. Bad enough that I had less than a month before becoming a wife, a thought that still unnerved me for reasons I couldn't quite identify. I had counted on Char being there to help me through, but he was being taken from me already. So began the rest of my life.

"Ella." Char stopped walking and gently turned my face so our eyes met. "I won't go if you don't want me to. It can wait until after the wedding. I hate to leave you so soon."

I didn't want him to. I wanted him to stay. I started to say so.

Then I stopped. What good would it do to detain him this once? I'd have to get used to it eventually. If this was an opportunity to prove himself, he had to take it. The prince had responsibilities. I was supposed to support him, not make things more difficult.

"No," I said. "You should go. It's your duty."

"Are you sure?"

No. Stay. Don't leave me. "Yes."

He nodded. "I'll be swift," he said. "I won't eat too much, so I'll be light for the horses to carry."

I made myself smile at his joke. "And we shall be wed on your return."

He beamed. "It's wonderful to say, isn't it?" He hooked my waist, and we resumed our walk.

"Oh," he said after a while. "My mother would like to know when you will be moving in. You are welcome to do so as soon as you please. Today, even."

I stared up at him, surprised. "Today?"

"As soon as you please."

With so little time before his departure, it would be wonderful to live together. "I'd like that," I said. "I'll have to speak to my household, first."

"Of course," said Char. "Have you thought what you're going to do with the manor?"

"Not successfully," I said. "I don't think I could bear to sell it."

"Mother suggested keeping it as a guest house," said Char.

I furrowed my brow. "A guest house? For who? I hardly know anyone out of…" I stopped mid-sentence as I realized I was about to speak a horrible mistruth. My eyes grew wide. "Areida!" I cried. "Oh, I haven't seen her in ages! I wasn't allowed."

"Areida?"

"Yes, Areida! You met her, remember?" How could I have forgotten my dearest friend? It had been so long since that command from Hattie, the order to end our friendship, that I had accepted ages ago the truth that we might never see each other again. But now, I was free.

Char was giving me a gently puzzled look. "I haven't met many of your friends," he said.

"You stayed at her inn," I said. "When you were in Ayortha. I think she mentioned she knew me at school."

Now Char looked surprised. "Oh! I suppose I do remember such a conversation."

"Areida is my only friend," I said. "Well, she was. But she can be again. Char, if not for her, I would have left finishing school the moment I set foot in the door. She made the whole place bearable."

"But you left, anyway," he reminded me.

I hesitated, and I nodded. "My sister, Hattie, commanded me to end our friendship."

Char gaped. "End? In what way?"

"She didn't specify. I ran away from school that evening. I left Areida no note, and I wrote her no letters. The curse would have punished me with terrible headaches if I had disobeyed, so I suppose I satisfied Hattie's order."

Char frowned deeply. He pulled me a little closer. "How can a person be so cruel?" he murmured. "And to someone as likable as you."

I smiled. "It's ended, now," I reminded him.

"Thank God for that." He kissed me. "My mother had one other question." He made a face. "Actually, my mother made an assumption. I wanted to divine the truth from you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Yes?"

His eyes—always so earnest and full of compassion—met mine. "Who would you like to invite?"

It took me a moment to register his question. "Oh! To the wedding?" In all my time fantasizing about Char's love, I had never given much thought to the wedding, itself. "Areida," I said quickly. "And Mandy. All my household. As guests, not as servants."

Char grinned. "Naturally. Anyone else?"

I had to think. Most of the acquaintances I'd had in childhood were little more than the children of my parents' friends, and they had to have felt the same way about me. "Those are all the friends I've ever really had," I said. "Apart from you. Oh, Apple must come!"

Char laughed at that. "If he behaves himself, I'm sure Apple will be welcomed. But, Ella," and his expression grew serious once more. "Do you intend to invite your family?"

I blinked. "Oh."

"It is entirely up to you," he added.

I thought about it. "I suppose… I suppose I'd like my father there," I said. At Char's you-can-be-honest-with-me look, it was my turn to laugh. "In truth," I insisted. "I think it would make him happy. And… well…" I grinned up at him. "I suppose I want to show you off."

Char laughed. "There's the lass I know."

"As for the rest of my family," I said, "I suppose I'll have to think about it. Though it would be strange to invite Father without Dame Olga, wouldn't it? And I suppose that means Hattie and Olive, as well…"

Char tilted his head. "Ella," he said, "it's up to you. Invite who you please, propriety be damned."

I hesitated. "May I think about it?"

"Of course! Take all the time you need."

I guessed Queen Daria would need to be sending invitations before very long, but I nodded, anyway. "I will let your mother know as soon as I make up my mind."

Our path exited the orchard at the castle stables. A vast, empty, fenced-in pasture swept away over the hilly grounds. A large barn, surrounded by a cluster of outbuildings, took the foreground. I could hear the sound of activity in front of the barn. As we rounded it, a massive, pure white steed came into view. It wore a saddle and a modest saddlebag, and it stamped the ground, anxious to be off.

Beside it, King Jerrold was fastening a large bow and a full quiver of arrows to the horse's flank. He looked up as we passed and gave a curt wave. We detoured to meet him.

"Off to the hunting grounds?" said Char.

Jerrold nodded. "Just for the afternoon," he said. "Perhaps we'll bag a few hares, or a deer if we're lucky, but the woods are generally quiet this time of year. Still," he added, "it's good to get some air, and it's worth the practice."

He smiled at me, but the smile faded quickly. "My dear, out in this weather, and dressed like that?"

After the stifling warmth of Queen Daria's solar, I had barely noticed the cold. "I'm all right," I said.

Under the king's scrutiny, I realized my sleeves barely reached my elbows, and the thin material of my dress was meager protection against the winter chill. I was not uncomfortable, but I did feel suddenly ready to be back inside.

Jerrold frowned. He turned to his son. "Char, for shame," he said. "Walking your lady about the grounds without so much as a shawl? She'll freeze where she stands."

Char looked suddenly mortified. "Oh, how foolish of me," he said, and he took my hand in both of his. "You're as cold as ice! Take my…" and he patted his shoulder, as if to remove his own cape—but, of course, he wore no such garment, either. We had both come straight from the queen's solar, neither considering the weather outside.

Before I could respond, the king clapped his son on the shoulder. "She's to be your wife, lad," he scolded. "You must take better care of her."

"Of course," said Char, who looked flustered. "Ella, forgive me. We must get you inside."

"I'm really all right," I insisted.

The king nodded at us. "I shall return sometime this evening," he said. "A good day to you both. Go inside, where it's warm. You'll catch your death out here."

We wished the king a safe journey, and Char steered me off the path on a beeline to the castle. He ushered me hastily through a small, covered door that I would not otherwise have noticed, obscured as it was by a rather large hedge. "What a fool I am," he muttered. "You must be chilled to the bone. Ella, I'm…"

I stopped him before he could apologize again. "I asked you to listen to me," I said, "not to dress me. You've only done as I asked."

My attempt at levity managed to twist his lips into a small grin. "Still," he said, "I mustn't be so neglectful in the future."

I reached up and grasped my wrists behind his neck. "You couldn't be neglectful if you tried," I said, and I kissed him. Here in the narrow, empty servant's entrance, we were as unlikely as anywhere to be interrupted. We took five minutes' advantage of this fact.

We finally separated, and I sighed. "Your mother is waiting," I said. "We ought to return."

Char waved a hand. "She and Cecilia will be planning everything out," he said. "We'll only get in the way."

I needed no further encouragement to avoid returning to that sunny, yellow room. "If you insist," I said, grinning. "I think I'll go home, then. I'd like to share our plans with my staff."

"Should I accompany you?"

"I'd like to talk to them alone, first," I said. "If there are any objections, the staff is more likely to air them in the absence of the prince. However," I was sure to add, "I shall be back before the evening's out, or I shall send for you. Either way, we are to spend this night together, as we did last night, and as we shall do for every night, forever." Except when you are away on business. "Every possible night," I amended. I feigned a stern expression and put a finger on his chest. "Is that very clear?"

"As you command, my lady." He took my hand and kissed it.

"Then I shall see you this evening."

Parting was easier today than it had previously been. It was wonderful to know I would see him soon.

Char bundled me in twice the necessary amount of furs, despite my protests, and sent me home in a carriage. The footman had orders to stay until I was ready to leave. The carriage sat parked in our driveway as I pushed open the heavy front door.

In the hall, Nancy took my furs, pretending to stagger under their weight. "Warm enough, were you, Lady?"

"Nearly," I said. "Nancy, will you gather the household? I have an announcement to make."

She paused, and a wide, silly expression crossed her face. "Lady," she breathed. "Are we to expect a little one?"

I threw up my hands. "Not for several years, God willing," I said. "Please gather the household. And please, Nancy, quash that rumor wherever it rears its head. My relationship with the prince remains entirely innocent."

She laughed at that—actually laughed, throwing back her head and whooping at the ceiling. "Of course it does, Lady." Still grinning like a schoolgirl, she added, "I'll collect the staff."

With only four staff members, it took little time for the household to gather in the hall. My suggestion that we relocate as soon as possible was met with unanimous approval, which surprised me. To each of them—Nancy, Bertha, Nathan, and Mandy—this manor had been home for far longer than it had for me. I wondered whether my mother's absence was as painful for them as it was for me. Perhaps they were as ready as I to move on.

They were also enthusiastic to begin their positions at the castle. When I disclosed the wages they could expect, Bertha clapped her hands to her mouth, and Nancy actually swayed in place. "It will be busier than we're used to," I said, "but I think you will find your situations tolerable. Nancy, the queen has promised an additional stipend of half your salary to support your family."

Nancy's mouth tightened, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you, Lady," she breathed.

"Thank the queen, when you meet her," I said. "And Princess Cecilia. She's very kind, and she knows all her staff by name. I think you'll like her."

Before I dismissed them, Mandy touched my arm. "I'd like to stay one more night," she said. "If it please you, Lady."

I assured her the request was more than warranted. We found the castle footman and bade him relay the message: tomorrow, we would move in to the castle. I asked him to send Char, as I would be spending one last night in my mother's home.

With business attended to, I dismissed the household. They resumed their work with a renewed vigor. I was pleased they were so looking forward to their elevated responsibilities. I reflected on how easily Daria and Cecilia had fit them into their own staff. Nothing had forced them to do so, and yet not for a moment did they consider otherwise. It lifted my heart and assured me that I, along with my household, would be quite comfortable in our new life.

The footman returned half an hour later with word that Char would be along as soon as he was able. I was disappointed to be delayed, but then I remembered my intention to write to Areida.

I retrieved paper, pen, and ink from my room, and I brought them into the kitchen, where Mandy was already working on an all-too-elaborate dinner. "I'll help in a moment," I told her. "I must write to Areida. I can't believe I waited so long!"

"So long?" said Mandy, pounding a lump of dough on her board into submission. "How many days has it been? Two?"

"This is my third full day of freedom," I said at once. I spread the paper on the table before me. "She should have been the first person my thoughts went to. I am a loathsome friend."

"Lady, the first person your thoughts went to was the prince. You can hardly be blamed."

"Still."

I fell silent as I composed my letter. I intended it to be a quick note, so that I could send it off as soon as possible. In the end, though, my letter covered three full pages on both sides. Finally allowed to write to her, I relayed everything she had missed in our time apart. I told her of the curse, of my servitude under Dame Olga, of Father's attempt to marry me off and the horrible letter I had written to Char.

I saw you in my fairy book, I wrote. You met Char at your inn, and you talked about me. You told him my marriage to a wealthy man—which, I should mention, was a complete fabrication—did not sound like me at all. I love you for defending me so. And for a million other reasons, besides.

I concluded with the announcement of our engagement and swore that if she could not make it to Frell in time for the wedding, it would be postponed until such time as she could be sure to be there. I told her that the manor was to become a guest house, that she was welcome there any time, and that she should be sure to visit as often as possible.

After nearly an hour of furious scribbling, I finally rolled my letter into a thick scroll, sealed it, and gave it to Nathan, who went out at once to hire a messenger. I stretched and heaved a heavy sigh.

The kitchen now smelled of browned meat and onions. Mandy was spooning filling into pastry rounds to make plump meat pies. "Finished your memoir, have you?" she said. "Help me with the pies, love."

I joined her happily. I tied my hair up in a kerchief and donned my favorite old apron, which still hung on its hook in the cupboard. While I finished shaping the meat pies, Mandy beat sugar into a bowl of softened butter, the start to some rich dessert.

"I wonder what it will be like to live in the castle," I said. "I hope I'll still be allowed to cook with you."

Mandy laughed. "You'll be the princess, love. You'll be allowed to do as you please."

I doubted that was entirely true. Considering how well Cecilia knew her staff, however, it did seem likely that I would be able to see Mandy whenever I pleased.

"I suppose it depends on how Rachel runs her kitchen," I mused.

"Rachel's a good lass," said Mandy. "We've shared a number of recipes. I see her at the market every so often."

"That's right," I recalled. "Char knew a bit about me, when we first met."

Mandy smiled. "Couldn't keep myself from bragging about my favorite goddaughter, could I?"

"Bragging?" I turned to stare at her. "You told Rachel about the time I knocked over the ice bucket and broke that brand new set of dishes!"

"Well, I was vexed with you, at the time," Mandy said stoutly. "It was a lovely dish set."

"In any case," I said, "Cecilia said Rachel doesn't let anyone in while she's cooking. I suppose, if you're friends with her, you might convince her to make an exception."

Mandy grinned. "Cecilia, eh? Doing away with the formalities quickly, I see."

I realized I had left out the princess's title. "They've asked me to," I said. "All of them insist I call them by their first names alone. It comes easily with Cecilia, but with the king and queen… it does feel a bit strange."

"No doubt," said Mandy. "So, tell me, Lady. What is the royal family like?"

I laughed. "In truth," I said, "they're very ordinary. They dress much more simply when they're not in public. No crowns or scepters or great, flowing capes. King Jerrold and Queen Daria truly seem to be as kind as they've always appeared. I suppose I don't know them very well, yet, but they have been very welcoming to me."

Mandy smiled. "And how could they not?"

"Princess Cecilia is lovely," I went on. "Their staff must be nearly a hundred strong, and yet she knew every one of them by name. She loves to tease," I added, "and she is not afraid to speak her mind."

"Good," said Mandy. "She always struck me as a clever one. What of the princes?"

"Philip is quiet but good-tempered," I said. "Bored by books, which is unfortunate. He'd rather live the battles than hear about them. And…" I hesitated. "Armand… there's something strange about him, truthfully. He said something rather vulgar to me."

"Oh?"

I recounted for her my conversation with Armand the previous night. "He told me I wasn't welcome," I said, "over dinner, in Ogrese, of all languages. He knew only I would understand it. It was as though he were challenging me to reveal what he'd said."

"And he is the only one who seems to feel this way?"

"Everyone else has shown me nothing but kindness," I said.

Mandy tutted. "Well, as the youngest of four, and parents so busy, I suppose it's not surprising," she said. "He sounds like a spoiled child accustomed to having his way."

"Perhaps," I said. "He is terribly clever, though. We had a conversation in four different languages, and he leapt from one to the next like it was nothing."

Mandy shrugged. "Well, perhaps he only needs to get accustomed to you," she said. "Ignore him as best you can. Spend your time with the others. Your prince is the only one who matters."

I grinned. She was right, of course.

"So," she added casually, not looking up from her bowl. "Have you set a date for the wedding?"

I paused. "Yes," I said. "Three weeks' time."

"Three weeks!" Now Mandy turned to me, surprised. "That's hardly any time for preparations. I'll have to speak with Rachel at once. How many are on the guest list?"

"I don't know. The queen and Cecilia are handling all that."

Mandy looked quizzical. "Lady, what's the matter?"

I realized I had stopped in the middle of sealing a meat pie. My fingers, covered in egg wash, held the pastry half-open, and I was staring blankly down at it.

I resumed my work. "Nothing," I said. But it wasn't true. I sighed. "I don't know. I love him more than anything, Mandy. I have for a long time."

"Of course you have."

I shook my head. "The idea of marriage is… strange. I'll be a wife." I wrinkled my nose. "I don't know why, but it makes me uneasy."

"It's new," said Mandy. "Uncertain. Marriage is an eternal promise. It's not something to be taken lightly."

I shrugged. "It's not the promise, really," I said. "It's nothing at all to do with Char. That's what's so puzzling. I want to be with him forever… I just don't want to be married to him."

Mandy looked thoughtful. "I've never been married," she said at length. "You ought to talk to Nancy. She will have better advice than I."

The idea that anyone could have better advice than Mandy was almost laughable, but I realized it was an excellent suggestion. Nancy knew me as well as anyone in the household, and as Mandy said, she had the experience. Perhaps she could explain what I was feeling. "That's a good idea," I said. "I'll do that."

There was a knock at the door. My heart jumped. Char!

I dusted the flour from my hands and removed my apron. Before I could run from the kitchen, Mandy caught me.

"Your hair, Lady," she said. She pulled the kerchief from my head and attempted to smooth my hair out where it had been tied. "Hmph," she said after a moment. "Well, it's a good thing he already loves you."

I gave her a playful shove and hurried from the room. I met Nathan coming to get me. His expression was not what I'd been expecting. "I wasn't sure what to do," he said in a low voice.

I had just enough time to shoot him a quizzical look before I entered the hall and saw just who had been let in.

It was Hattie and Olive.

I stared at them.

"My dear sister!" cried Hattie. Her hair was a different style than I remembered. "Or should I say, Your Highness? Oh, the life of a princess. I cannot even imagine. My dear, you do look… ravishing."

She must have missed my tangled hair and the spots of flour on my dress. "And your new wig is very flattering," I said.

Her smile froze, but she recovered quickly. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, don't call me that," I said. "My name is Ella."

"Of course, of course. No need for such formality between sisters. My dearest Ella. How are you?"

"I was having a lovely afternoon," I replied. "Can I help you, Hattie?"

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "The truth is, Ella," she said, canting her voice up in pitch, "we are here to beg your forgiveness." She drew a handkerchief from some ruffle in her dress, and she dabbed at her eyes, though I hadn't seen tears. "Thinking back on how we treated you… it was so dreadful. So dreadful."

I stared at her. "Yes," I said.

"Please accept this," said Hattie. She pulled her sister forward, and I saw that Olive was holding a small basket. At a nudge from Hattie, Olive extended her arms. Hattie continued. "And our sincerest apology. Mother is nearly hysterical, she feels so wretched."

In the basket was a small, crystal bottle that contained a thin pink liquid. A round pump attached by a short cord lay nestled beside it.

"Why does your mother not come to see me, herself?" I asked, growing annoyed. Did they think they could buy my forgiveness so easily? With a bottle of perfume? What did they take me for?

"She is wretched," Hattie repeated. Perhaps she sensed my feelings—she began to look nervous. "She is despondent in Sir Peter's absence. She refuses to spend any money while he is away, in case he should lose our fortune again." Hattie's smile faltered, and for a moment, I saw real honesty in her eyes. It was a strangely human look, for her. "I had to procure this gift in secret, from my own private store."

"Then she doesn't know you're here?"

"Oh, she does," said Hattie. "Just not about our gift. She apologizes most sincerely." She straightened, her composure returning. "In any case, this will mark the beginning of our true friendship as sisters. Think of it as a… starting-over gift." She smiled, a bit too widely.

I shook my head. "I don't want it, Hattie."

"Oh, you are too kind!" Hattie was either a masterful actor or she was severely deluding herself. "Of course, our friendship cannot be contained in such a tiny vessel!" She gasped at her own joke and gave a tittering laugh. "I shall tell Mama the good news of our reconciliation. Oh! I nearly forgot! When is the wedding to be held?" Her smile clung desperately to her face. "I'm certain it will be a fine affair! My friend Julia will be frightful envious of me!"

"Hardly," I said. "You and your frightful mother are not invited. Please go."

Hattie blinked several times, rapidly. "But surely your family must be there," she said. "How improper that a lady should be wed without her sisters or her mother present! Everyone will find it preposterous!"

"Let them think what they will," I said. "And my own mother is very much invited to attend, should the ability find her to do so. Leave my home at once, or I shall have my manservant help you to the door."

"Ella, dear sister," said Hattie. Her tone changed and became sober, almost lazy. "You simply must invite us to the wedding."

She barely seemed to know what she was attempting to do. Commanding me had become her second nature. I stared at her, and after a long moment, she realized her mistake. What little color was in her cheeks went out of them.

I leaned in close and relished the word like I never had before…

"No."

Now Hattie wrung her hands in despair. "Please," she nearly whimpered. "Please, reconsider—"

But I had had enough. "Nathan!"

Hattie jumped. Her eyes darted in her head as she tried to think of some tactic that might have an effect.

Nathan stepped into the hall. "Lady?"

Hattie looked at him, alarmed. Seeing no viable alternative, she gave an indignant huff. "Some princess you'll make," she sniffed. "I've never been so insulted in my life. Come, Olive. Her Royal Highness doesn't deserve our friendship!" She looped Olive by the arm and stormed out the front door.

I whirled on Nathan. He stood politely in the doorway, a head taller than I. Flushed with fury at my sisters' audacity and elated by my power to send them home, I advanced on him. I felt my eyes spark as I pointed a commanding finger. "Do not open this door to them again," I said, peering up at his surprised face. "Whether I am here or not. They are not welcome in my mother's house. Is that understood?"

Nathan looked at once startled and amused. He made a low bow. "Of course, my lady."

Outside, there was the sound of a brief meeting. A male voice, politely confused, said, "Good day, ladies," but I did not hear my sisters' response.

Through the still-open front door, Char poked his head into the hall. The look on his face said, What were they doing here?

I met him in the doorway. As Hattie marched off across the driveway, Olive hurrying behind, I took Char's hands in mine. "We will send for my father," I said, loudly enough for my sisters to hear. "I've every hope for his attendance at our wedding, but Dame Olga and her despicable children will not be disgracing us with their presence."

Char gazed after them, my own disgust reflected in his steely eyes. He turned back to me. "You've made your decision, then?"

"Resolutely."

"Good. We'll let my mother know."

I pulled him inside and shut the door. "Tomorrow," I said.

He grinned. "Yes. Tomorrow."