Masquerade (6 page)

She’d joked about marrying Conrad. But wouldn’t it be grand to marry a rich man and be a real lady of society?

A bird flew into the window, startling her from her dream.

Enough. Dora was not a fine lady; she was a maid. Pure and simple.

She gathered her needle and thread, sat down, and got to work.

Chapter Three

Lottie considered skipping breakfast, staying in her room, shunning her parents as her friends had shunned her.

But to do so would negate her chance and great ability to pout in their presence and make them suffer. If they wanted to sacrifice her life to the wolves of America and arrange a marriage-for-money …

Behold! The martyr.

“What are your plans for today?” her mother asked.

Lottie said nothing but waited for Dora to serve the eggs and stewed tomatoes. Dora moved on to Aunt Agatha.

Lottie’s father picked up a scone and knife, perused the table, then said to Dora, “Preserves? Where are the preserves?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll go fetch some.”

Unfortunately, Dora hurried out of the room. Lottie wanted her there as a witness so they could discuss the success of Lottie’s revenge later.

Father sprinkled a pinch of salt over his eggs. “I’m going to ask Derek to get steamer trunks from the attic so you ladies can see the baggage space you’ll have available for the trip. Is that agreeable?”

“That would be very helpful, Thomas,” Mother said.

Lottie was confused. Her father had suggested her mother was too ill to travel. Had he given in to her desire out of guilt?

“Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Lottie?” her mother asked. “About the trunks?”

Lottie took advantage of yet another chance to kill them with her silence.

Father cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. That’s that, then.”

Aunt Agatha put her fork down with extra emphasis. “This is absurd. Lottie, you’re acting like a five-year—”

Mr. Davies came in carrying a tray. “A special delivery, sir.”

Lottie glanced up and saw fear flash across her father’s face. Was he expecting bad news?

Apparently, for he let out a sigh steeped in relief when he saw whom it was from. “It’s from the Tremaines. And it’s quite thick.”

Lottie gave her eggs her full attention. She had no interest in whatever the Tremaines might have to say—or so it must appear.

“Lottie, why don’t you open it,” her father asked.

She faced a conundrum. To refuse, she would have to do more than shake her head; she would have to speak. But by accepting, she would be showing interest. She settled on “Let Mother do it.”

Mr. Davies brought Mrs. Gleason the packet, which was thicker than a letter but smaller than a package.

Mother opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. Her face beamed as she lifted for display—“Tickets! Two tickets!”

“My, my, that was quick,” Father said. And timely. It was as though the Tremaines and her parents had orchestrated the entire thing.

Lottie’s mother perused the tickets. “It’s passage on the steamship
Etruria
. First class.” She repeated the final two words for Lottie’s benefit. “First class, Lottie!”

What did her mother expect? Steerage?

Father shook his head. “Again, I bring up the issue of your health, Hester. Such a long journey …”

“Nonsense, dear. The accommodations will surely be luxurious. It will be as if I were at home.”

“But not at home.”

Wasn’t that the point?

Lottie’s need to speak overrode her need to pout. “I didn’t say I’d go. We haven’t even responded to the Tremaines’ invitation as yet.”

“A bit presumptuous of them to be sure,” her father said. “But also quite American. From my experience they have trouble taking no for an answer.”

“But I haven’t said yes,” Lottie repeated.

Her aunt rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a twit, girl. Your family found you an excellent match. It’s your duty to embrace it. A woman may not get a second chance.”

Lottie knew that in her youth Aunt Agatha had spurned a proposal. Lottie couldn’t imagine any man being interested in her. She was as pinched and tasteless as a dried prune. Or was the latter the result of the former?

“I am not being a twit, Aunt. I am merely wanting some say in my future.”

“And why do you think you deserve this
say
?”

“It’s marriage. It’s forever.”

“My opinion stands.”

Lottie’s mother put the tickets back into the envelope for safekeeping. “But, dear, now that you know the extent of our situation, I don’t think we can wisely close the door on this opportunity.”

Who wanted to be wise? When had Lottie ever been asked to own such a trait?

Apparently now.

Her father cleared his throat. “I know this entire situation is regrettable. I will go to my grave laboring over …” He did not elaborate. “But the truth of the matter is, Charlotte, you must go. You must meet this Conrad. You must make every—
every
—attempt to find him amiable and acceptable, and you must marry him and be kept safe and happy and provided—” His voice broke and he stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

At his departure, the silence that encompassed the room was far different from the silence Lottie had attempted to create with her moping. She’d never seen her father break down like that, never imagined he ever felt full of regret and despair. She was tempted to run after him and console him, but considering she had never done such a thing … it would be too awkward. Besides, did he
deserve
consoling?

The need to pout was set aside. “Is everything really so horrible, Mother? Is everything ruined?”

Her mother put a hand to her mouth, her eyes downcast. “The threat of ruination is horrible indeed, and the acts that brought it down upon us are …”

“Deplorable?” Lottie offered.

With a moment of hesitation Mother nodded, then looked at her daughter. “A woman’s lot is to endure. It is only the extent of that endurance that varies between individuals of our sex.”

Lottie had never considered being a female to be as awful as that. Yes, there were limitations and expectations that had occasionally colored Lottie’s life, but in general, she’d been quite happy.

“Everything seems upside down,” she said.

Her mother leveled her with a gaze. “Which is why you and I must do this thing, must get away from Wiltshire and find solace elsewhere.”

Lottie had not thought much about how the arrangement could be to her mother’s benefit. “You wish to get away?”

“I wish for peace—something I fear I will never be able to find here. Not with your father—” She commenced coughing, and it soon turned into a full-fledged fit. Lottie brought her a glass of water and stood by her side until the horrible hacking had passed. Mother handed Lottie the glass. “Help both of us, Lottie. Marry Conrad. Gain a good future before it’s too late to do so.”

Lottie’s throat grew tight. Oddly, one of her favorite lines from
Sense and Sensibility
came to mind. When Willoughby was asked why he disliked Colonel Brandon, he said, “He has threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine.” His words were well suited, for Lottie disliked how the current situation threatened her life with rain when she wanted—and expected—it to be fine.

Aunt Agatha interrupted her thoughts. Lottie had forgotten she was even present. “See here, girl,” Aunt said. “Don’t you think it’s about time you think of someone besides yourself? What little money is left they’re giving to you in a dowry, to assure your future. Our world is collapsing around us. Escape while you can—and take your poor mother with you.”

Lottie felt a swell of shame. Suddenly the concept of going to America enlarged its scope. It was not only about pounds and pennies; it was about protection and permanence—and survival.

Her mother extended a hand, and her fingers grazed Lottie’s arm. “We love you, Lottie. I know we are lax in saying as much, but …”

Suddenly, in spite of their flaws and errors, Lottie knew this to be true. Her parents
did
love her. Although she’d known it in theory, she was now faced with their love revealed, exposed, and presented in a very tangible way. Love was not a word, nor even an emotion; it was an action, providing shelter and shield.

They loved her, but had she ever loved them in return? She’d used them, manipulated them, annoyed them, worried and ignored them. She’d made fun of them in private and had wasted their times together with selfish thoughts of what she could get out of the meeting.

Her mother glanced toward the door and rose. “I must go check on your father.”

Lottie, left with the unpleasant prospect of being alone with Aunt Agatha, also said, “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Sit down.”

Lottie was stunned by her aunt’s tone.

“Do as I say, girl. Sit your body down and listen to me.”

Lottie returned to her chair, her nerves tingling.

“I really should check on my parents,” she said.

Her aunt had something else in mind. “What you really should do, Charlotte Regina Gleason, is grow up. Immediately. You’ve been treated like queen of the castle far too long and to bad results.”

“I beg your—”

Aunt stopped Lottie with a hand. “You can beg all you want, but I won’t listen to a bit of it. Your father is a fool. He made decisions that will affect all of us badly. And though she is my sister, I must also call your mother a fool to put up with that man’s philandering.” She shook her head in disgust. “You haven’t helped matters with your pouting and whining and acting never satisfied.”

Lottie thought of her lukewarm reaction to her parents’ birthday gift. Now she realized they’d given her an heirloom because they couldn’t afford something new.

Aunt Agatha wasn’t through with her yet. “But I forgive you all that because they encouraged your behavior and did nothing to stop it. A child will push until a parent pushes back.”

Lottie would accept the scolding but didn’t need a full lecture. It was best to apologize and be done with it. “I see now that I’ve not acted as I should.”

Her aunt shook her head. “Feel bad on your own time. I don’t care if you fall on your face, beg forgiveness, and give all your possessions to the poor. What I do care about is that you help this family in a tangible way by marrying Conrad Tremaine. Only with you and your mother off to America, attended to and established, can your father deal with the repercussions of his own folly.”

“What repercussions?”

“You think he tells me?”

No. Even Lottie’s mother didn’t know the full details. But Lottie herself had already felt a good dose of the consequences of her father’s mistakes. It could only get worse.

“Not that you’ve given me a thought, but I plan to find solace in London with a cousin.”

Lottie was further shamed, for she had not considered her aunt’s future for even a moment.

“The point is, girl, life is changing for all of us, and we don’t need the distraction of Little Lottie whining about the loss of a friend or the absence of a new dress.”

“I’m not
that
shallow,” she said.

Aunt leveled her with a look. Then her face softened and she reached a hand toward Lottie, letting it fall upon the lace tablecloth between them. “You’ve been given a chance to help, girl. Take it. Go to America and take your mother away from the humiliation here. What you do once you get there is not my concern as long as my sister doesn’t have to worry about you. Do you understand?”

“I do.” Far too well. But oddly, although the news was bad, it felt good to
know
.

Her aunt sat back in her chair and nodded, obviously satisfied. “That’s a good girl, then. So go on now. Attend to the preparations and act happy about it.”

Lottie rose, then did something she’d never done in her entire life. She went to her aunt’s side, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek.

She left her aunt there, with a hand to that cheek, as stunned as Lottie herself.

“All these trunks?” Dora asked.

“Three for mother and three for me,” Lottie said. She blew a coat of dust off the top of one.