Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Charlotte slept late the next morning, but when the bliss of sleep was interrupted, she found herself still with the same questions and the same problems. She was quiet as Sara helped her to dress, prompting the maid to ask her if something was wrong.

"You look as though you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, Miss Davidson," the maid said, shaking her head, and Charlotte sighed.

"It's just… well, I know I always talk about her as though she's real. But when Isabella has a problem in one of the stories, I can always think of a solution. It's easy. But this isn't. I don't know what the solution is, or how to write it. I know how I'd like it to be, but I don't know how to make it so. Does that make sense?" she asked, and the maid smiled.

"It does, Miss Davidson. But wouldn't you say we all have to write our own story? How would you end it if you could?" Sara asked.

Charlotte pondered for a moment. It was actually a far harder question than she had made it out to be. Did she really know how she wanted things to end? She knew the ending her mother and father wanted. They wanted her to marry the earl and settle down to a life of subservience to her husband. As the Countess of Swadlincote, Charlotte would be expected to spend her days paying calls on other equally bored women or hosting them when they called on her.

She would organize charitable drives and be a figurehead in the district for fashion and good taste. But Charlotte did not want that. She wanted to write and see her novels on the shelves of every house, and her ideas about what it meant to love, and to live, discussed and debated. There was still so much she wanted to do, and the idea of settling down to the life expected of her filled her with dread.

"Well… I'd like to get married. I'm not against the idea. But an arranged marriage? Well, Isabella certainly wouldn't stand for it, so why should I?" Charlotte said, shaking her head.

Sara smiled.

"Well… Isabella lives quite a different life than you, Miss Davidson. And as you said yourself, it's a life you control, rather than allow to get out of hand. You're the one who decides Isabella's destiny. But perhaps you don't like to feel your own destiny being decided for you," the maid replied.

Sara often had a way of putting things in just the right way, and this was one of them. She was completely right. Charlotte did not like her own story being written for her, even as she had no qualms in writing the stories of her heroines and directing them as she saw fit.

"No, I don't. I just wish I'd had the opportunity to get to know him better. The earl, I mean. If it wasn't for Lady Olivia… well, perhaps things might be different," Charlotte said.

She was thinking back to the conversation she and the earl had enjoyed the evening before. Without Olivia breathing down his neck, he had been different. He was more open, more pleasant, and far better company.

Charlotte had warmed to him, not to such an extent as to be entirely agreeable to the prospect of marriage, but far more than willing to at least consider the earl's offer. But the presence of Olivia had changed that, and Charlotte had no doubt her presence would continue to linger, like an unpleasant smell.

"Then perhaps you need to tell him as much, Miss Davidson. It's him that approached your father. He's the one that wants to marry you. There should be some conditions to secure your happiness," Sara said, and Charlotte nodded.

"I still don't understand it, unless…" Charlotte began, a sudden thought occurring to her.

Was the earl's interest in her purely financial? She felt na?ve and foolish for not having seen it before; but it was obvious.

A man of his position, his rank and title, would never stoop so low as to marry the daughter of a merchant, unless that merchant happened to be one of the wealthiest men in England, a man who could save a penniless aristocrat from his crippling debts. It was only a theory, but it fit the facts well enough. The sudden proposal, the haste with which the process was being undertaken.

"Miss Davidson?" Sara asked as Charlotte shook her head and smiled.

"I know just what he wants. It's not me, it's my dowry," she replied.

***

Later that morning, having endured her mother's company at breakfast, an endurance given the countess' obsession over Charlotte's marriage to the earl and her constant questioning of her as to her progress in securing the match. Charlotte went for a walk. She liked to walk; it was a chance to think.

Thinking was always easier when walking, and with Sara accompanying her, Charlotte followed a path through the woods and across a meadow bordering her father's estate. It was a pleasant day. The sun was shining, and the air was filled with birdsong.

Charlotte wanted to think about Isabella and the next chapter of her story, but her thoughts were distracted by the situation she now found herself in, and despite the beautiful day, it was as though a storm was brewing in her heart and mind.

"You're lost in thought again, Miss Davidson," Sara said, catching up with Charlotte, who had walked on ahead, crossing a stream by a humpback bridge.

Charlotte turned to her maid and gave a weak smile.

"I'm sorry. I must be terrible company," Charlotte said, but Sara shook her head.

"We all need our moments of quiet, Miss Davidson," she said.

They were about to walk on, but before they could do so, a call came from behind them. Charlotte closed her eyes, knowing just who it was.

"Miss Davidson, what an unexpected pleasure," Lord Baxter said, and he hurried up to her, smiling as Charlotte grimaced.

She had hoped the fact of the arrangement with the earl would be enough to ensure Lord Baxter's attentions were directed elsewhere. But it seemed he was intent on persistence. He asked if he might walk with her, talking about his planned investments and the money he and Charlotte's father were to make together.

"I really should be getting back," Charlotte said, after they had walked on for half a mile or so through the meadows.

"Oh, but we've hardly come any distance at all. I was hoping for a chance to speak to you, Miss Davidson. There's a lot we have to talk about," Lord Baxter said.

Charlotte did not believe she had anything to talk to Lord Baxter about. He was her father's friend, his acquaintance. And Charlotte found him odious. She was convinced he was dishonest and playing her father for a fool when it came to their business dealings. She wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, it was inappropriate for him to pursue her in this manner. Because now she was…supposedly betrothed.

"I'm not sure we should be doing so, Lord Baxter. I presume you know I'm to be married to the Earl of Swadlincote," Charlotte said.

She wanted to get rid of him, but Lord Baxter was proving persistent, and now he seized Charlotte's hand in his, much to her dismay.

"Oh, but you don't have to, Charlotte. Your father won't make you, not if I persuaded him otherwise. Think about it. Our business interests would be even more perfectly aligned if…" he began, but Charlotte had heard enough.

She was not a commodity to be bargained over. She was not a contract to be signed and negotiated. Marrying the earl, a handsome man, and far closer to her own age than Lord Baxter, was one thing. She had not yet made up her mind entirely. But this.

"I'm glad you think so highly of me as to include me in your business dealings, Lord Baxter," Charlotte replied.

Lord Baxter laughed.

"I didn't mean it like that, Charlotte. I only meant…" he began, but his words were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and Charlotte now turned, finding the earl himself approaching.

Charlotte pulled her hand away from Lord Baxter's, not wanting the earl to think there was anything improper occurring between them.

"Good morning," the earl said, surveying the scene.

Charlotte wondered what he was thinking. Would he blame her for her indiscretion? Or would he be discerning enough to realize who was at fault?

"My Lord…" Lord Baxter said, as the earl stepped forward.

"Miss Davidson, there you are. I was just on my way to Thrushcross Grange to see you. What a happy coincidence we find ourselves unexpectedly in one another's company now," he said.

Whether he had been or not, Charlotte was grateful to the earl for this intervention. Lord Baxter now had no choice but to step back and give a curt bow as the earl offered Charlotte his arm.

"Thank you. I was… on my way to see you, too. Lord Baxter was kind enough to offer to escort me," she said, glancing at her father's friend, who forced a smile to his face and nodded.

"Yes… well, you must think about what I said, Charlotte," he said, and Charlotte nodded.

"I intend to," she replied, and as they went their separate ways, Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.

"A curious incident," the earl said, raising his eyebrows, and Charlotte blushed.

"I… he thinks… well, he's been pursuing me for some time. But I find him odious. He's only interested in money. He's my father's business partner, and I'm certain he's dishonest. He only wants to marry me to secure his share in the business; that's what it is. He's not in love with me. He just wants money," Charlotte said.

The earl looked at her in surprise. Her sudden outburst was out of character, and Charlotte now blushed, even as her anger still welled up inside her. She hated the thought of being used as a commodity or a bargaining chip in a business deal. It was odious, and if the earl's motivation was the same, he was no better. The look on his face suggested as much. He appeared suddenly embarrassed, clearing his throat, and looking away from her.

"Yes… well, you don't have to worry about him anymore," the earl said.

"But is that what I am? A commodity? A bargaining chip? A business transaction? It's hardly romantic, is it? Why do you want to marry me? Answer me that," Charlotte demanded.

She was not usually prone to such outbursts, but it was as though all her pent-up emotions now burst forth. Charlotte wanted to know the truth, and she was not about to believe whatever excuse or justification he was going to give.

"I… Miss Davidson, I want you to know of my sincerity in the approach I've made…" the earl stammered, but Charlotte shook her head.

"There's no sincerity in it. You need the money, don't you? Tell me honestly. Would you have given me a second glance if it wasn't for my father's wealth? He's made a deal with you, hasn't he? He'll invest something for you or pay off a debt. That's the price. My parents made no secret of their wanting me to marry, and you're the convenient solution," Charlotte exclaimed.

The earl looked perturbed, but he did not deny it.

"Miss Davidson, please… I'd hoped the two of us would get to know one another, and in doing so, perhaps a spark might've appeared. It's not just about the settling of a debt," he said, but Charlotte shook her head.

"Nonsense. Why don't you marry Olivia? You're in love with her. Oh… but, yes, that's right. She can't rescue you from a bad debt, can she? And, besides, she's not in love with you," Charlotte said, pulling her arm away from the earl's and glaring at him.

He stared at her in astonishment, but again, he made no attempt to deny it. Charlotte had read enough romantic novels to know something of human nature. She could see the sorrow in his eyes and the tacit acceptance of what she had said regarding Olivia's feelings towards him. He was a man forced into making choices he did not wish to make–marrying her, begging for the relief of his debts, accepting Olivia did not love him. Charlotte could almost feel sorry for him, but as for marrying him…

"Well… I know it's not easy… but you and I…" he began, but Charlotte had heard enough.

"You and I might well find things in common, and perhaps we might also grow in affection for one another–under normal circumstances. But none of this is normal, and I can't marry a man who loves another woman, and certainly not for the sole reason of settling his own debts," she replied.

It was an impossible situation, utterly ridiculous, and Charlotte was angry with herself for having taken this long to come to her senses and do something about it. Whatever her parents said, however angry they grew, Charlotte would not be forced into a marriage she did not desire, and with a man who clearly did not desire her, either.

"Please, Miss Davidson, won't you let me explain…" the earl said, but Charlotte had heard enough explanations, and now she turned away, nodding to Sara, who now hurried after her in the direction of Thrushcross Grange.

The earl was left standing on the path, and Charlotte did not even turn and look back at him, knowing she would only say something further she might regret. Out of earshot, she paused, sighing and shaking her head.

"Your mother won't be pleased, Miss Davidson," Sara said, and Charlotte groaned.

"Oh… I think I'm well beyond caring what she thinks, Sara," Charlotte replied.

But in her heart of hearts, Charlotte did not really know what to think. A feeling of guilt now came over her–had she been too harsh on him? Lord Baxter was odious, but the earl was different. On his own, at least.

"But don't you want to get married, Miss Davidson?" Sara asked.

Charlotte shrugged. She did not know what she wanted. These things were always so much easier in the pages of a book. The characters had direction, purpose–a sense of where they were going and what they wanted. But Charlotte was simply confused. She knew what she did not want–to have anything to do with Lord Baxter, for example–but as for what she did want.

"I think I do, yes. But it's not as easy as that, is it? I don't know who I want to marry. I can't just choose for myself, can I? It's all so difficult, Sara," she said, sighing and shaking her head.

Sara put her arm around her, and the two of them walked together back to Thrushcross Grange. It had been quite a morning, and the consequences were still to be played out.