chapter six: heart to heart

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There were many things Charlotte Wentworth never truly understood in life.

   She did not understand how women's only form of education was needling and knowing how to handle a man. She did not understand why birds had to be shot at for sport. She did not understand why she could not let her hair down during formal events. Furthermore, why she and so many others had to take so many hours on her hair every morning. There were so many more things her brain could barely hold.

   However, Charlotte was starting to understand what was beneath the cold, hard surface of Anthony Bridgerton. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a parent. She was only months away from her societal debut when the incident occurred. Her parents were on a voyage to Ireland to visit friends when the sea surrounding them became too rough to sail. And then the boat tipped. Charlotte and her siblings never saw their parents again.

   And though she did not know the story behind Edmund Bridgerton's passing, the pain that came with his death was clear for anyone to see. And it might be why Viscount Bridgerton was the way he was. Even the hardest of exteriors crack when trying to hold the world on their shoulders.

   The next day, Charlotte decided to have afternoon tea on her own, seeing as Amelia and Daniel were in the study with the viscount, his mother and Lady Danbury. As much as she wanted to be in there for support, she knew Amelia would not want her there. So in the meantime, Charlotte would surround herself with tea, biscuits and her thoughts. Lovely.

   Taking a small sip of the English tea she was forcing herself to like, Charlotte looked up at the double doors at the sound of someone walking through them suddenly.

Eloise Bridgerton faltered in her step with her book in her hand, not expecting anyone to be out there, but smiled at the older woman nonetheless, "you must not let the game of pall-mall dismay you. Antagonism is, I'm afraid, what you must expect."

The Wentworth chuckled warmly at the words, putting her cup of tea back on the table in front of her as Eloise took a seat a few feet away from where she was. For a few moments, Charlotte could not help but observe the younger girl who was already entranced by the words on the pages in front of her. In a way, Eloise reminded her of herself when she was her age. Before she was married. Before she was stripped of what made her... her.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Eloise?"

The Bridgerton shut her book in an instant, "did I purposely make the third wicket two inches narrower than last year? Yes I did... You can ask me anything."

Charlotte chuckled again at the girl's charisma before settling, her smile faltering, "I fear I may have upset the viscount during our game."

"Ah," Eloise shifted in her seat, "you were near our father's grave? Well, then his mood was not on your account. He rarely goes near the sight if he can help it," after a moment, she got up from her position on the couch, "can I ask you something? Was it your choice you never married? My brothers tell me I have a habit of being rather direct. But everyone tells me it is fate worse than death to end up a spinster. But you seem perfectly content with your situation."

Pursing her lips, Charlotte knew she had many ways of going about the next moments of her life. She could pretend the last years of her life never happened and act as though she was never a bride or a wife. Or she could disclose something to someone she hardly knew but felt she could tell without feeling as though the entire ton would find out in the upcoming days. It was not hard to decide, though her heart was now beating harshly inside her chest.

"Come sit, Miss Eloise," Charlotte patted the seat next to her. She waited until the girl did before continuing, "I'm going to tell you something in complete confidence and I trust you will keep it between you and I," a breath, a moment, "I was married once before. To a man who was cruel and...violent... not fit to be a husband to anyone. His words would cut deep and slowly tear away every bit of my soul every day. Until one day, I decided I had had enough... and I left him. And now I am an unmarried woman in the eyes of the English ton. You must know, it is hardly ideal. The world is not exactly welcoming to an unmarried woman. There seems to be no place in society for us, except at the edge of things."

"That rather seems to be a society's flaw, not a woman's," Eloise contributed, reaching to grab Charlotte's hand in support after hearing her story, "Miss Wentworth, I..."

Charlotte tightened the grasp the two shared in assurance, "Miss Eloise, you are strong, you are powerful. And you never have to do anything you don't want to do. There may not be a place for women like us, but I'd rather have no place in society than be stuck in the place I was in all those years ago. And no matter what happens, you can always come to me for anything. I promise."

As the younger woman smiled at her graciously, Charlotte could not help but feel a sense of bittersweet in that moment. Because though it was between her and someone she had grown fond of, she wished she was giving this talk with her sister, who could barely look her in the eye.

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   Dinner parties were always a favorite for Charlotte and her family. Not only were there plenty of fond memories surrounding her mind when it came to her family at the dinner table enjoying each other's presence. But the process of planning dinner parties had always fascinated Charlotte. When she was little, she would always follow her mother around and simply watch her plan the family dinners or balls they would host throughout the season. The decisions, the rush of adrenaline the day of and only hours away from guests arriving. It all made Charlotte more excited to become a wife just so she could be in charge of planning such events. Little did younger Charlotte know at the time, she would not even get to attend such events most of the time, let alone plan any of them.

   The talk with Eloise earlier in the day was a big one, Charlotte would say. It was as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders, but not the entirety of it, seeing as the one person who needed to know of Charlotte's past still did not know. However, seeing as said person still was not talking to her, there hardly seemed a good moment to have such a discussion.

   Charlotte was prompted to sit beside Eloise for dinner that night and across from Daniel while Amelia sat beside Anthony, who sat at one of the heads of the long table, while his mother sat at the other. Everyone else piled in and filled the rest of the seats. The dinner was going pleasantly with the families with Lady Danbury exchanging conversations with smiles and light laughter. Though there were some strange occurrences from one Benedict Bridgerton for a reason Charlotte could not figure out.

   "This room is exceptionally well-lit. Have you noticed, Col," Benedict's pale features zeroed in on his younger brother while the people around him wearily watched him gaze around the room, "the twinkle of the candles, it is as—it's as if... we sit among the stars."

   Eloise leaned forward in amusement as Charlotte held in her own chuckle beside her, "what is wrong with you?"

   "I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece," Colin interjected before his brother could say anything else.

   Charlotte perked up in intrigue, her eyes gaining a unique sparkle at the mention of such a foreign land she had yet to explore, "I must say, Mr. Bridgerton, your travels have been fascinating to hear about. Not only the things you have learned about the places you have visited, but I can only imagine the things you have learned about yourself while you were there."

   "It was a revelation, really," Colin nodded, impressed by how well spoken the Wentworth woman was and flattered by how interested she was in his travels, "made all the better by the knowledge that I may have been the only Briton to see any of what I saw in decades. Do you wish to do traveling of your own, Miss Wentworth?"

   "Oh, I could only dream of such—"

   The sudden clatter of a glass hit the cloth covered table rather loudly, alerting everyone at the table with gasps. It seemed as Benedict simply tried to pick up his glass of wine, his fingers only pushed the glass over, not succeeding in the simple task.

   "Benedict, dear," Violet Bridgerton started as warmly as she could, though she sounded at her wits end with his behavior, "you alarm our guests."

   "It's quite alright, Lady Bridgerton," Charlotte assured the woman sincerely.

   "Perhaps," Lady Danbury caught the attention of the table and raised her own glass, clinking the side of it with a knife, "it is time for a toast."

   "A good idea. To cheer our guests."

   "Or to tend to other pressing matters."

   Slowly, every eye at the table turned to the other head of the head occupied by the viscount, who paused in his seat before rising, clearing his throat, "a toast. Yes. My sincere gratitude to the Wentworth's for joining us. It has been splendid having you here to witness what is now my second annual loss at pall-mall. Not to be repeated, I assure you."

Charlotte wished she could have laughed along but she was too busy holding her breath, hanging out to his every word. Knowing whatever was to come out of his mouth next would change everything.

   Viscount Bridgerton waited for the laughter to subside before continuing, "and my special gratitude to Miss Amelia. It has certainly been a privilege to truly make your acquaintance these past days. In fact, I believe there is a question I would like to ask you..."

   For some reason. For some odd reason, Anthony turned his head the slightest bit to lock eyes with Charlotte. She did not blink, she could not breathe. All she could think about was what was happening right in front of her. She could not look away. Though she wished up to the high heavens she could.

   "I should like to, uh," the viscount trailed off, confusing everyone around him, "I should like to ask you to please refrain from telling anyone back in London about yesterday's loss. I fear the harm to my reputation would simply be too great. Um.. to the pleasant days ahead."

   As everyone cheered around them, quite quietly and hesitantly, due to expecting a different outcome of the viscount's speech, Charlotte took the largest sip of her wine she could muster. She did not know what was worse. Her sister getting engaged to the viscount, or the aftermath of her sister ultimately getting rejected by the viscount.

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There were few times Charlotte was at a loss on what to say or what to do when it came to her sister. No matter the situation, she always found something to say or do to make everything better for Amelia if something did not go her way. However, Amelia was not so little anymore. And the situations were now too real to try to fix with simple words or small actions.

The rest of the dinner was not like the start. It was quiet, only the sound of forks scraping plates and sips of the last ounces of wine could be heard. And unlike the lively and smiling Charlotte that once graced the dinner table when the food was served, she barely looked up from her plate once dessert was brought out.

   When Charlotte stepped into her shared bedroom for the night, she did not know what to expect to see. However, what she saw surprised her. Amelia was not crying. It was strange to see someone so full of life so solemn. Closing the door behind her, Charlotte locked eyes with Daniel, who had been keeping silent company with Amelia since dinner ended. When their parents were still alive, usually it was their mother who had words of wisdom that always seemed to make sense and put everything in perspective. Now, it was Daniel and Charlotte's responsibility to be that figure for Amelia.

Without saying a word, Charlotte walked over to the vanity where her younger sister was stationed and motioned her hand outward toward the girl. A moment later, though it felt longer, her palm received the brush previously held by Amelia. Charlotte began brushing Amelia's hair again, though it was already smooth and ready for bed.

   "Lia," Charlotte started softly, so softly she feared if she were to talk any louder, her voice would crack the glass mirror in front of her, "you must know you did nothing wrong."

   "I must have done something," the sisters locked eyes through the mirror, Amelia's red with impending tears, "the rest of the ton are now set to join us in the country. Surely, if the viscount were to propose, he'd have done it by now. Yes? What if I have missed my chance?"

   "Amelia—"

   "Perhaps I should've found out more about the Bridgertons," the youngest Wentworth continued, seemingly not being able to stop, "I should've known more about their interests. I should've been better. I have bungled this entire affair. And now I feel like a fool."

   Charlotte exhaled a painful sigh at her sister's words, her features physically scrunching, "never say such a thing, Lia. I know he would only end up hurting you. Come here," she crouched beside her sister and brought her into her arms. With Amelia's head buried in her neck, tears soaking her skin, Charlotte tried to control her own, "I hate seeing you like this."

   Another sob creeped from Amelia's throat, "I thought he liked me."

   Bringing her sister out of the embrace just enough for them to look at each other, Charlotte gently wiped her sister's damp cheeks, smiling softly down at her, "you are the diamond of the season. There is nary a gentleman back in London who does not wish for your hand. You have choices, Lia. All will be well, despite this disappointment with the viscount, I assure you."

   Collecting herself the best she could, Amelia nodded, wiping her own cheeks before falling back into her sister's arms, "I'm sorry for being so horrible to you, Lottie. I should've listened to you. I'm sorry and I love you. So much."

   Over her sister's shoulder, Charlotte locked eyes with Daniel, who was the forever silent observer that he was, and watched him give her a pleased nod of his own with a closed lipped smile. And that was when she knew. All would be well for the three of them once again.

   "I love you, too."

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   If there was anything Charlotte could do to clear her head sufficiently it was a long horse ride through the fields of her countryside home in France. But, of course, she was not in her country home in France. She was in someone else's country home in England. That someone being the person who broke her sister's heart so bad she could barely get out of bed the next morning. So badly Charlotte and Daniel Wentworth had to blame their sister's absence at breakfast on something she ate the night before. Though it was clear the excuse was just that. An excuse.

   The sleep Charlotte endured was restless and unsatisfactory, consisting of several long periods of staring up at the ceiling or staring at her sister who had tear stains on her pillow. It all was beginning to be too much for Charlotte to handle. So she decided to take it upon herself to remove herself from civilization for a while and ride for as long as she could.

   After about an hour, or longer she could not tell, Charlotte could tell the horse was getting tired so she returned him to the stable which was by the gardens of the estate. Where, of course, she happened to see a certain viscount walking aimlessly. Though she knew better than to stir up trouble with him, that was before her sister got her heart broken by him. Now, he was fair game. And she had quite a lot on her mind, and a pretty big bone to pick.

   Plucking off her riding gloves, Charlotte casually started her walk toward him, "my lord."

   Viscount Bridgerton turned at the sound of her voice, not expecting to see her, "Miss Wentworth. Is your sister..."

   "She is in her room," the woman continued her walk, though her tone was dangerously low, "not feeling her best this morning, it seems."

   "I did not mean to disappoint her last night when I did not declare myself," he began walking with her once she caught up to him.

   "And I'd like to thank you for not—"

   "She shall not be disappointed for long. Assure her, I still intend to propose," Anthony continued as if she never started to say anything at all. In fact, he was not even looking at her. What kind of game was he playing? Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him as he continued, "last night was a lark, at best. My brothers were up to no good, and with everyone sitting there, staring back at me, well... my feelings would not allow me to speak."

   It was only when she circled around him to face him did he watch her every move. Charlotte could not believe the words coming out of his mouth, "so your feelings are too strong for you now?"

   "Miss Wentworth—"

   "No. No. You had your turn to speak. Grant me mine," Charlotte snapped, prompting his head to bow, "all you are doing, my lord, is toying with the emotions of an impressionable young lady."

   "Miss Amelia seems perfectly capable of forming her own impressions. If you took notice—"

   Charlotte took a step forward at his accusation, "don't you dare. You claim to know my sister better than me?"

   "I know she wishes to be happy," the viscount softens his tone, seeing now he might have crossed a line, knowing how protective Charlotte was with her family.

   Charlotte faltered, her eyes dropping in almost defeat before gaining strength once more, "this is precisely what I wish for her. I can assure you, happiness is not your strength. Exasperation, perhaps. Fixation, most definitely. The only feeling you are, in fact, capable of engendering, my lord, is that of discontent."

   Buzzing.

   Something was buzzing around her. Close to her. Almost too close. So close she could hear it so clearly. So close, apparently, the viscount could see it.

   "Do not move. Stand still—"

   "Do not tell me what to do!"

   "Stand still, damn it!"

   A bumblebee made its way onto Charlotte's bare skin, prompting Anthony to take the most cautious of steps toward her, his chest starting to move up and down drastically. His eyes barely blinking at the sight, scared as if he looked away for a moment, the bee would destroy everything in its path.

   Charlotte watched the man in front of her with intrigue, bringing her hand up to shoo the insect away from her, only panicking the viscount more.

   "No! Do not!"

   "It is only a bee."

   "Leave it!"

   "Ow!"

   Hands grabbed both her upper arms tightly in a panic as Charlotte grumbled in annoyance at the sting that hit her collarbone. Not noticing his turmoil, the woman shook her head to relieve the minor pain of the sting that crawled through her neck, her eyes closed for a moment.

   However, for Anthony Bridgerton, he could not breathe.

   "Are you hurt?"

   "What," Charlotte mumbled, only now focusing on what was happening around her. Though when she opened her eyes, the last thing she expected to see was in front of her. Anthony Bridgerton turned pale, his eyes wider than she had ever seen before. He looked panicked, scared—no, terrified.

   Anthony panted another question he needed an answer to, "can you breathe?"

  Though from the naked eye, one would not understand such panic, Charlotte understood what was happening in an instant. Solely to the fact it has happened to her so many times before. This was not about her anger toward him or her protectiveness toward Amelia anymore. This was about calming him down.

   "My lord, it is only a sting. Of course," Charlotte tried to make her voice as calm and steady as possible to show him verbally if he could not see she was fine physically.

   "Are you certain," still, with his hands holding her arms, his eyes moved frantically across her entire body to make sure she was unharmed, though his actions did not seem to work in the slightest. It was as if his brain and his body were separated and were no longer one. No longer communicating with each other. His eyes could not tell his brain he could see no injury. It was all up to her.

   "My lord. My lord," Charlotte used a little more force the second time around when grabbing hands, bringing one of his palms to her chest and the other to his own, both of her palms holding his, "I am unharmed. I am alright. Everything is alright. Breathe. It was just a bee."

Viscount Bridgerton nodded at her words, leaning into the small space between them, making their noses brush and their foreheads touch together ever so slightly. Every few seconds, Charlotte would whisper small things to bring him back down to Earth. And every time he would hear them, it would work.

The two stayed there for as long as it took for his breathing to level. Charlotte was afraid to look away, to even blink away from his intense stare into her eyes. However, she knew the most important thing for her to do was to remain calm for him. If he feels how steady her heart beat was, his would mirror hers in due time.

It was not long before the viscount's breathing was back to normal, but neither of them left their position. Swallowing thickly, Charlotte barely whispered a final, "okay?"

And before the man could utter a response, still shaking from what happened only moments before, the sound of a horse neighing in the distance snapped him out of whatever trance he was trapped in. Viscount Bridgerton backed away from the embrace, walking speedily out of the garden without another word.

Once he was out of sight, Charlotte made a run of her own, hiding behind one of the stone walls of the garden entrances, her chest heaving behind the misgivings of her tight dress. There, surrounded by flowers in full bloom, Charlotte Wentworth was at a loss once again.

And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

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peace & love—comment & vote
edited: june 2024