31. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

May 26, 1812 London Charlotte

C harlotte’s first two weeks with Lady de Bourgh passed pleasantly. Gone was the haughty, stubborn, imposing woman who had antagonized Lady Catherine, and in her place was a warm, amiable, welcome hostess. Amelia’s attentiveness to Charlotte’s every whim filled something in her life that she did not realize she missed.

The day following their excursion to Bond Street, Charlotte and Amelia sat together in the breakfast room, partaking of the many delights prepared by the house’s well-trained cook and kitchen staff. Charlotte’s foot tapped to the tune she played in her head as she put peach preserves on a scone.

“What shall we do today?” Amelia asked.

She is rather spritely for a lady of her years, Charlotte thought to herself. “I am unsure,” she replied aloud. “We went out yesterday; I am not in the mood to go to Bond Street again.”

“Quite right. It is not my day to be at home to callers, and we have no invitations elsewhere. Shall we take a walk in the park? We might have a picnic for lunch.” Amelia smiled, her eyes twinkling.

Before Charlotte could answer, a noise came from the hallway outside the door, and she turned to see what caused the commotion.

“Andrew!” Amelia cried delightedly. “You rascal. You did not say you were coming. I thought you meant to go to Briar Court until autumn.”

Sir Andrew swooped down and kissed his grandmother’s cheek affectionately. “My business at Rosings Park is complete, and after a few days at home, I grew restless for company. There is nothing at Briar Court that cannot wait until September.” He turned and bowed to Charlotte. “Miss Lucas, it is good to see you again. How have you enjoyed London?”

Charlotte felt unaccountably anxious at Sir Andrew’s appearance. She had not expected to see him again, even as a guest of Lady de Bourgh. Her heart fluttered, and she mentally silenced it. He is not for you, she told herself for the millionth time.

“I am well, Sir Andrew. Welcome.” She smiled and turned her attention back to her meal.

“We are going to picnic in the park, Andrew,” Amelia said, gesturing for him to sit down. He did so and began filling a plate with food. “What say you to accompanying us?”

“A picnic sounds delightful. I have no other engagements and am happy to do whatever you desire.” Sir Andrew smiled at his grandmother and Charlotte admired how attractive it rendered him.

“Shall we go around noon? The weather is not yet too hot during that time of day.” Amelia turned to Charlotte. “Do you not agree, my dear?”

“The weather has been very pleasant these last few weeks.” Charlotte groaned internally. Speaking of the weather. How very trivial. What must he think of me? She had never been prone to embarrassment and cursed the blush that she could feel creeping upon her cheeks. What is it about Sir Andrew that discomposes me so? She did not know, but she knew she held him in esteem and that his good opinion mattered to her. You are not romantic. Practical, pragmatic Charlotte’s head is never in the clouds.

“Noon sounds delightful. Have you notified the cook yet? Perhaps I can make a few requests.” Sir Andrew smiled again, and her heart did a flip.

“We had only just settled the matter when you arrived. What sort of things do you wish to enjoy?” Amelia looked at Charlotte and then Sir Andrew, awaiting their answers.

“I believe I can say with certainty that Miss Lucas would like strawberry tarts and fresh berries. Scones, biscuits, and rolls as well.” Sir Andrew’s eyes sparkled as he regarded her, and Charlotte glanced away, uncertain what he meant by his display.

“Well, Charlotte? Has Andrew guessed correctly?” Amelia sounded amused and she felt like as if she were the butt of some secret joke.

“He has,” she said finally. Turning to Sir Andrew, she continued, “I did not realize you had become so familiar with my preferences.”

His gaze turned serious as he replied. “I have, indeed, Miss Lucas. I know you prefer honey to sugar, and milk instead of cream. You favor quiet pursuits to loud gatherings, and cats to dogs.” Suddenly, his expression changed from sober to pompous. “I am nothing if not attentive,” he said in a passable imitation of his aunt Lady Catherine.

Amelia laughed and Charlotte joined her, chuckling quietly. Privately, she wondered what Sir Andrew meant by flaunting his knowledge.

“What of you, grandson?” Amelia returned to the topic of their picnic. “What will you have in the basket?”

“I believe it is Miss Lucas’s turn to speak my preferences,” he answered, smirking. “Let us see if she can make proper work of them.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. What is he about? she wondered. Keeping her eyes on her plate as she cut up a piece of ham, she considered her reply. “You prefer lemon or raspberry tarts,” she said with certainty. “You also like biscuits, scones, and rolls with butter instead of honey. And you prefer coffee to tea.”

Sir Andrew did not respond, and Charlotte glanced up. He watched her closely, an unfathomable expression on his face. Their gazes locked and she lost herself in the depths of his brown eyes. Finally, he broke away.

“You are correct, Miss Lucas. Well played.” Clearing his throat, he turned to Amelia. “And you, Grandmother? What is it that you want in the basket?”

Amelia chuckled. “Nothing that you have not already mentioned, except perhaps a beverage.”

“I shall see it done,” Sir Andrew replied. He rose from his chair leaving his half-eaten plate of food behind and left the room. Charlotte continued to eat though she did not feel much like finishing her breakfast.

“What a welcome surprise to have Andrew here!” Amelia grinned and tapped Charlotte’s hand. “I had not expected to see him until September. He usually spends the summer in the countryside. Are you not pleased, Charlotte?”

“I am happy that his company brings you so much joy.” In truth, Charlotte did not know how she felt. Sir Andrew’s arrival would change the dynamic of things in the house. Perhaps Amelia would tire of her company and send her back to Meryton. The baronet’s presence in London discomposed her; he stirred feelings in her that were better left unexplored, for he had already declared his confirmed bachelor status and she doubted he planned to change that.

Amelia eyed her shrewdly, and Charlotte had the impression that her hostess could see right through her paltry reply to the heart of the matter. “Yes, my grandson is a good man and a good master. If only he would find a lady and settle down.” She raised an eyebrow and Charlotte shook her head.

“Sir Andrew has no interest in me, not in a romantic sense,” she insisted. “I am pleased that he has joined us, since it has brought you so much joy, but do not presume there is more to his arrival than what it appears.” She would certainly not presume. Her heart could not bear to hope only to have those feelings dashed.

“Whatever his purposes, the house will be far livelier with him here.” Amelia set her fork down and stood. “I believe I shall go to my chambers and see to a few household matters.” She took up her ever-present walking stick and left the room, leaving Charlotte to finish her breakfast alone.

After pushing her food around on her plate for a few more minutes, she rose from the table and left the room. Making her way to the library, Charlotte determined to find a book to occupy her morning until they departed for their picnic. She did not feel equal to spending time with Sir Andrew until she had a chance to regain her equanimity. Her composure had suffered with his unexpected arrival, and she needed time to marshal her defenses against his charm.

Sir Andrew had been unfailingly polite during their shared walks in Kent, and whenever they had been in company at Rosings Park. Never had he done anything to raise her expectations, and despite his insulting insinuations when they met the second time, Charlotte had grown fond of him. Yet, she knew there would be no future in that quarter. She had much better take this opportunity in London to find a husband and put aside the silly dreams of a love match that she had buried years ago.

At eleven o’clock, she changed into her walking boots and outerwear and descended to the entryway. Sir Andrew had already come down and wore a beaver-skin hat and a well-fitting jacket. He pulled on gray gloves and then turned as she approached.

“Miss Lucas! There you are. I could not find you when I returned from the kitchen this morning.” He smiled warmly and Charlotte returned it with a timid smile of her own.

“I spent the morning reading in my chamber,” she said.

“Poetry, no doubt. Wordsworth? No! Burns!” He leaned close to her and whispered,

“O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.”

Charlotte felt hot and cold all at once, frozen as his breath stirred the curls that hung down by her ears. His deep voice spoke the words of the poem, one of her favorites, as it were, and something stirred within her chest. She knew at that moment that there was no use guarding her heart. He had already stolen it.

As he finished, he moved away, fiddling with his gloves and not looking at her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, unsure how to respond when he had behaved in such a manner.

“Here you are. How long have the pair of you been waiting on me?” Amelia came toward them, a footman following with a large basket. “Jones will attend us,” she said, gesturing to the man. “Are we ready? Then let us depart.”

The carriage waited outside to carry them to the park. The distance to their destination was not great, but too far for Amelia. The dear lady rambled on about her morning as the carriage trundled along, seemingly oblivious to the tension between her grandson and her guest. Charlotte made noncommittal noises when Amelia required a response, but otherwise remained silent.

When they arrived at the park, Jones took the basket ahead to a location described by his mistress. Sir Andrew offered his arms to his grandmother and to Charlotte, and they walked slowly down the path.

“I am very spoiled to have such lovely ladies on my arms,” Sir Andrew said, puffing up exaggeratingly. Amelia laughed and Charlotte shook her head at the display.

“You are a shameless flatterer, my dear.” Amelia nudged Sir Andrew with her elbow. “I am far too old to be considered lovely.”

“Say it is not so!” Sir Andrew shook his head. “Your beauty increases by the day. None could mistake the lines of wisdom on your countenance for anything less.”

“ Flatterer,” Amelia repeated. “Though Miss Lucas is eminently deserving of the appellation.”

“Indeed, she is. A lovelier creature I have never beheld. Your beauty inspires me to write poetry of my own. Did you know Miss Lucas has an interest in the poets, Grandmother?” Sir Andrew smiled cheekily, and Charlotte’s cheeks burned at his mockery.

“You assumed that poetry occupied my attention this morning. I neither confirmed nor denied it,” she said stiffly.

“If not poetry, then what did you prefer to read?” His genuine question helped lessen her pique, and she tried to reply composedly.

“Evelina.” She would not be ashamed of choosing a romantic novel to soothe her aching heart.

“A good choice.” Sir Andrew nodded.

They came upon Jones who had laid out the contents of the basket on a rug that he had spread out on the grass beneath a tree. Sir Andrew helped his grandmother to seat herself where she could lean against the trunk of the great oak that they sat under. Charlotte took a seat across the blanket from Amelia, assuming that Sir Andrew would sit by his grandmother.

He did not. He walked around the edge of the blanket and sat next to Charlotte before proceeding to make selections for each of the ladies from the fare before them.

They chatted amiably about the events that Amelia wished to attend during the next two weeks as they ate, and when they had finished eating, Amelia leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes.

“Would you care to walk with me, Miss Lucas?” Sir Andrew asked.

Having no reason to refuse, Charlotte accepted and allowed him to help her to her feet. He offered his arm, and she took it, ignoring the thrill that shot through her at his touch.

“What have you done to occupy yourself since you departed Kent so… expeditiously?” he asked after they had moved a little away from their picnic site.

“I returned to Meryton and stood up with Elizabeth—now Mrs. Darcy, if you recall. After the wedding, I came to London with Lady de Bourgh.”

“Ah, yes, how is our happy couple? Happy? Still a couple?” He smirked and she rolled her eyes in response.

“Your plans came to fruition nicely,” she said. “Elizabeth is married, and she is trying her best to find satisfaction in her new situation.”

“I believe you mean our plans,” he corrected. “It was apparent to all except Darcy that Elizabeth’s regard did not match his.”

“She claims she holds nothing but disdain for him… or rather she claimed that before her marriage. I never believed her, for she has always discounted those she holds in contempt, and she has never been able to let go of Mr. Darcy’s insults from their first meeting.” Charlotte shrugged. “And though she now professes that her esteem for her husband grows, I do feel some guilt in my involvement. We ought not to have interfered. How can we be certain we have not ruined their lives forever? I know Elizabeth wished for a love match, and Mr. Darcy must have felt the same, for he disregarded every expectation to have her for his wife.”

“What if we acted for their own good? They are well-matched. Your friend only needs to see it.” Sir Andrew spoke gently, patting Charlotte’s hand as they strolled.

“She is trying. Elizabeth fights against first impressions and a stubborn nature. But she is not wholly untouched.” If only I had the same fortune.

“Enough talk of Darcys. Let us speak of other things. How long will you stay in town?” He turned them off the main path and onto another, smaller track that led into the trees.

“I am at Lady de Bourgh’s disposal. I suppose I shall return home when she tires of me.” Hopefully not until I am engaged, she mused.

“That is good. My grandmother lives in town year-round, except for when she visits Briar Court during the winter season. She appreciates your company, I am certain.”

They came to a bench beneath a flowering tree of some kind and Charlotte sat. True to his nature, Sir Andrew straddled the bench so he could face her.

“Are you pleased to see me, Miss Lucas?” he asked earnestly, searching her face for something.

“I am,” she replied honestly. “We departed so precipitously that I was unable to bid you a proper farewell. I missed our walks.”

“And my company, I hope.”

“Are not the two intertwined?” she teased lightly.

His face grew sober again and he took her hand. “In truth, Miss Lucas. Did you miss my company?”

She glanced away and nodded, feeling unequal to meeting his gaze. “Very much,” she whispered, cursing her traitorous heart for how it beat for him. Why must he torment me so when there is no hope in that quarter?

He squeezed her hand and changed the subject. They talked of trivial things for a half an hour before returning to Amelia. They found the picnic gathered up and Lady de Bourgh ready to return home. They did so, and Sir Andrew called for his horse, declaring that he would spend the rest of the afternoon at his club.

Amelia asked Charlotte to join her in the sitting room. “How did you enjoy your stroll with my grandson?” she asked.

“We had an enjoyable time,” Charlotte responded non committedly.

“The poor dear. His heart was broken years ago, you know. He is scared to love again.” Amelia patted Charlotte’s hand kindly. “I ought not to have said anything. Simply know that I am grateful that you have befriended him. Heaven knows he has experienced enough heartache in his life.”

Charlotte said nothing and Amelia picked up her book and began reading. Lost in her thoughts, she worked mindlessly on her embroidery, mulling over the complicated state of affairs she now found herself embroiled in.

It was not fair for Sir Andrew to behave so kindly toward her when he had no intention of marrying. Quite by accident, Charlotte’s heart had become engaged, and now she did not know how to proceed.