33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

June 15, 1812 London Charlotte

I n between evenings with the Darcys, Charlotte attended other events in the company of Amelia and Sir Andrew. These larger and louder outings usually occurred on nights when the Darcys opted to remain at home.

Charlotte experienced pleasant surprise when her hand was often solicited during these events. She would sit out only two or three dances instead of the five or six she had in the past. Sir Andrew always asked for her first or her supper set, ensuring that the evening was enjoyable.

She soon grew used to his presence at Lady de Bourgh’s house and looked forward to their discussions. Sir Andrew’s attentiveness attracted her, and she knew she would have to settle for far less when she finally married.

That evening they were to attend a large ball held by one of the patronesses of Almack’s. Lady Sefton’s annual ball signaled the close of the season. Many from the first circle left town after the event.

Charlotte wore another new ball gown that night, one that Amelia had insisted on after their initial order with Madame Dubois had been completed. This gown was blue with green threads woven throughout. The fabric shimmered, making Charlotte appear ethereal as she walked. Though she knew her features were plain, she felt beautiful in it.

Before the event, Amelia came to her chambers with a jewelry case in hand. “This is for you,” she said. “It is merely a trifle, and you will do me the honor of accepting it without complaint.”

Protest already on her tongue, Charlotte shut her mouth with a snap. She accepted the case and opened it slowly. Nestled inside was an aquamarine teardrop pendant in a silver setting. It was attached to a matching silver chain. She stroked it gently, in awe. She had never owned anything so lovely. Her simple string of pearls could not compare to the beauty before her.

“I thank you, ma’am,” she murmured. “It is too much, but I accept nonetheless.” Charlotte took the necklace out and allowed the maid who had dressed her to put it around her neck. It fell to just above the neckline of her gown and matched her ensemble completely.

“I never had a daughter, Charlotte,” Amelia said affectionately. “If I had, I imagine she would have been very much like you.”

“Not like you?” Charlotte teased.

Amelia chuckled. “No, my sons took after me. I always thought that, should I have a girl, she would have taken after my husband. Kind, gentle, quiet, sensible. Yes, you are very much like him.” She smiled and touched Charlotte’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me such pleasure. I have longed for this happy situation for such a long time.”

“Surely you were not so alone. You had Sir Andrew…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“Andrew is often gone. Such it is with busy gentlemen. Do not diminish your contributions, my dear.” Amelia lifted a shawl and placed it around Charlotte’s arms. “You look lovely. Let us go enjoy the evening.”

She offered her arm to Amelia, and together they left her chamber and descended the stairs. Sir Andrew waited at the bottom, and Charlotte heated as his gaze fell upon her, his expression unreadable. She wondered why he stared at her so intently, suddenly remembering her words to Elizabeth. Gentlemen do not stare because of disapproval. Perhaps he is pleased that I am keeping his grandmother company. She sighed mentally. He certainly does not find me handsome. After all, you can dress up a pig, and it will still be a pig, she thought bitterly. She knew she would never possess the same level of beauty as Elizabeth or even Mary Bennet, but at that moment, for the first time in many, many years, Charlotte wished her features were more pleasing. Shaking off her dismal thoughts and determined to take pleasure in that evening’s events, she smiled brightly as she and Amelia reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Am I to be favored with two such lovely ladies again?” Sir Andrew said, kissing first his grandmother’s hand and then Charlotte’s.

“If you can bear it,” Amelia joked, swatting his arm with her fan. “Has the carriage been called?”

“It is standing ready. Shall we?” He offered the ladies his arms, and they took them. Outside, the carriage waited, pulled by four pure white horses. Charlotte had not seen this team before and wondered if they belonged to Sir Andrew’s.

He helped Amelia into the carriage first before turning to Charlotte. She took his hand, and he caressed her fingers with his thumb as he helped her in. His touch almost caused her to stumble, and she felt great relief when she settled onto the forward-facing seat.

Arriving at Lady Sefton’s, Charlotte had to prevent herself from gaping in complete shock. Never had she experienced such opulence. Lady Catherine’s choices of décor were garish, even if they were expensive. The other private homes where they had attended balls paled in comparison. Here, taste and elegance had not been overtaken by fashion, and the entire effect pleased her greatly.

Lady Sefton greeted her guests politely, and they moved through the line into the ballroom. The floor had been chalked in fantastic designs, and there were so many candles and mirrors in the room that everything glowed. The large ballroom could certainly accommodate the number of guests that Amelia said would be in attendance and Charlotte eagerly watched for anyone she had met at previous functions.

“May I request your first and your supper sets, Miss Lucas?” Sir Andrew said from her left.

Charlotte turned a startled look to the man beside her. “Both, Sir Andrew? Did you mean ‘or?’” Two sets were tantamount to a declaration in town. What can he be thinking?

“I meant precisely what I said, Miss Lucas.” He waited for her answer— that same, unfathomable expression on his countenance.

Swallowing, she nodded, accepting his request. His face split into a wide grin, and he bowed low before striding away.

“He is so very strange,” Amelia said from her side. “Where is he off to?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I am as baffled as you.”

“Wherever he has gone, he had better bring me something to drink.” Amelia grumbled good-naturedly and turned away, beckoning for Charlotte to follow.

Their time before the first set they spent greeting Amelia’s acquaintances. Charlotte did encounter a few ladies from previous events and spoke happily until Sir Andrew came to claim her.

“You look beautiful tonight, Miss Lucas,” he said as they began the movements.

“There is no need to flatter me, sir,” she replied, feeling somewhat testy. “I own a mirror.”

“Do not disparage yourself.” His sharp tone caused her to frown, and the steps of the dance took her away from him, allowing her time to gather her thoughts.

“Why do you criticize yourself so?” he asked when they came together again.

“Sir, you have met Mrs. Collins—formerly Jane Bennet—and her sister, Elizabeth. Believe it or not, there are three other Bennet sisters, all of whom have more beauty than me. I am not offended or hurt by this; nature favored my friends more than me. But your insistence that there is beauty where none exists is ridiculous and unnecessary.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he countered. “I am the beholder, and therefore I declare you to be quite fetching.”

The steps took her away from him again, and she shook her head. Let him flatter as he sees fit, she told herself. There is no harm in it.

They spoke of outings and other pleasant nothings during the rest of the dance, and when the music concluded, he led her off the floor and out to the terrace. It was well-lit and overlooked the gardens of Sefton Manor. He led her to a spot farthest from the door and stood next to her as they gazed out at the formally arranged flowers below them.

“Miss Lucas,” he said after several minutes of silence, “I wish to ask you something, and I am afraid I shall bumble it terribly. As such, I will be simple and to the point. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Charlotte’s head snapped around so that she could look at him. She gaped. The sudden hope she felt became smothered in reality, and she came to the conclusion that he teased her.

“That is not funny,” she said, voice trembling. “What have I done to become the subject of your mockery?”

“I am afraid I do not take your meaning.” His brow furrowed in apparent confusion.

“Do you think that because I am poor and plain that I have no feelings? I assure you, sir, I do. I feel deeply, and I resent this attempt to wound me.”

She tried to move away, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her progress. “Charlotte, wait, please. Let me explain!”

“You, sir, are the worst sort of cad. Upon almost our first meeting, you abused me abominably, making certain I knew that you had no interest in matrimony. ‘A confirmed bachelor,’ I believe you said. And now, after we became friends, or so I thought, you once again seek to hurt me. What am I to think?”

He sighed and released her arm. “Please. Come and sit, and I shall explain it all.”

Furious, she followed him down the terrace steps to a bench a little further away from the ballroom.

“You know most of my history, about how I became a baronet,” he began. “Before then, I came to town in search of a wife. My father had made me his apprentice, and I found I wished to begin my own family.

“Despite my connections, I was not wealthy. My mother’s dowry of ten thousand pounds was mine, but that was not enough to earn the approbation of most of the ladies of the ton. I heard more than a few disparaging remarks about me and my prospects, and the lady I thought loved me laughed in my face when I proposed. And then my father died.”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I returned to town after I had finished mourning, only to be set upon by the very ladies who had so condemned me. Their meanness of spirit deterred me, and I became more selective in my company. After some years, interest in me faded somewhat, but there were always those who thought I could be persuaded to accept a wife.”

He turned to her and took her hand. “I knew my father and my grandfather both had married for love. I decided I wished for the same. But years passed and I never found anyone to fill the hole in my heart. Instead, I found mercenary misses and machinating mamas at every turn.”

Chuckling, he stroked her hand with his thumb. “I decided I needed some way to sift through the masses and I used the same words I volleyed at you over and over again, though I admit, not on the first meeting. They were only necessary once a lady’s true colors showed. I deterred the most determined ladies, and then I met you. Something about you discomposed me from the beginning, and I launched my defense immediately. But, instead of stuttering and backing down, you replied to my words with your own verbal assault. It fascinated me, and I wished to know you better.”

“But… we have not courted! How can we simply…” Charlotte trailed off, still confused and hurting.

“What do you think I have been doing, my dear girl?” he asked, humor sparking in his eyes.”

She blinked. “You have been courting me all this time?” she asked lamely. “But I thought… you said…” She trailed off, uncertain what else to say. The already crumbling walls around her heart were collapsing and she briefly wondered if she were dreaming.

“Marry me, Charlotte. Become Lady de Bourgh. Make me the happiest of men!”

Tears began to fall and Charlotte nodded. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her.

“Careful or you will muss my hair,” she cautioned.

“Who cares? If they cry compromise, we shall only marry faster.”

Charlotte laughed and pulled away. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing as always.” He stroked her cheek and then tugged on a curl that hung down by the side of her neck. His gaze fell to her lips, and he leaned closer. Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers, gently caressing them.

She gasped at the fire his kiss stoked within her and he put his arm around her again, deepening the kiss. After a few moments, he pulled away. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said huskily. “I will not stand for you to think that I mock. I love you, Charlotte Lucas.”

“Perhaps love is blind,” she joked weakly, well aware that her self-deprecation would irritate him.

“No, my dear. Love opens the eyes so that one can see clearly. I alone have been blessed enough to see your worth. I have you now and will never let you go.”

He turned and pulled something from his pocket. “It is not en vogue ,” he said, “but I wish for you to wear this to symbolize our betrothal.” He held out a little case and opened it. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a ring that matched the necklace she wore.

“Amelia knew!” Charlotte cried. “Why that crafty, interfering, dear lady!”

He laughed aloud. “Yes, my grandmother suspected my attraction in Kent. Bless her soul; she did not invite me to London immediately, but left me to ruminate and come to my own conclusions.”

“She is far more devious than I imagined.” Charlotte held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger. It glistened in the light from the garden lamps. “Shall we return to the ball?” she asked.

“We had better. Grandmother will wonder where we got to.” He stood and helped her to her feet.

“Am I presentable?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. Not a hair out of place.” He tugged her curl again and then secured her arm in his. “Shall we, future Lady de Bourgh? Grandmother will be glad to surrender the appellation once more.”

The rest of the evening was a blur. Lady de Bourgh’s excited exclamations mingled with well-wishes from other guests. By the time they returned home, Charlotte was exhausted. Sir Andrew kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight. She fell asleep smiling.

The next day, Elizabeth called for tea and noted the ring on Charlotte’s finger. With very little prodding, Charlotte told all, and Elizabeth squealed excitedly, throwing her arms around her best friend. “I am so very pleased for you, Charlotte!” Elizabeth cried. “And marrying for love, too! I thought you declared that you were not romantic.”

Elizabeth’s wink softened her words, and Charlotte grinned. “One must never be romantic when one’s prospects are as dismal as mine were,” she informed her friend. “Now, I am perfectly free to be as romantic as I please!”

Sir Andrew left to stay in a hotel; Amelia declared it to be most improper for an engaged man to stay beneath the same roof as his betrothed.

With a promise to go to Meryton with settlement papers as soon as possible, Sir Andrew departed. Having waited long enough to find his bride, he wished to be married as soon as possible. Charlotte could hardly wait. Lingering guilt at her good fortune when her dear friend had made a marriage of practicality prevented her complete happiness, but she put it from her mind, certain that Elizabeth would soon find the same joy that she felt.