Page 34 of The Virgin Duchess (Unwanted Brides #2)
Chapter Thirty-One
C harlotte awoke with a headache the next morning. She had gone to bed without eating anything, and she had cried herself to sleep. Among the personal reasons for getting little rest—her sleep interrupted by nightmares that scared her out of slumber and into a cold sweat—she had heard raised voices down the hall.
Frederick and Rose appeared to have been arguing. She could only make out the occasional word, looking to hide herself from their conversation anyway. Still, Charlotte had been able to hear that the Baron was causing trouble again.
Rose had cried, loudly in fact, and while Charlotte felt terrible for that—beginning to think of the woman as a friend, like a sister—she’d kept herself from intervening. It didn’t feel like she belonged in this estate anymore. After her encounter with Frederick about the scandal sheets, it was clear that he wouldn’t deny who he was.
A rake—presumed and apparently guilty.
The growing anger Frederick held toward the Baron was also palpable through the walls. Charlotte could hear the vitriol in his voice even if she could not understand his words. He had done more to put Rose at risk, and there was nothing else that mattered to Frederick more than his sister.
Nothing at all, perhaps.
“Ugh,” Charlotte sighed, dragging her hands down her face and getting up from the bed. “Enough feeling sorry for yourself. This is your life, Charlotte.”
She walked over to the bureau, looking at herself in the large oval mirror that was bolted to the top. Charlotte looked tired, with bags beneath her eyes and a slight gray tinge to her skin. A fitful night of sleep had not done her well, and she was still as miserable as she was before she’d passed out.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked herself.
The reflection held no answers for her, only that mournful expression on her face that matched everything Charlotte felt down to her core. Something had been so strange, so off, about her husband when they had discussed the scandal sheet. She could see it behind his eyes, though he fought to keep it away.
“There is something more to the story. Something Frederick is keeping from me.”
Charlotte sighed again, raking a hand through the disordered tangled of her hair. Was she being na?ve to think that Frederick had not simply been honest? Was she only looking for there to be more because she didn’t want to believe that her husband, indeed, was what everyone had warned her about?
But she considered the situation. Frederick had not been clear, overly vague, if anything. What’s more, she was a good judge of character for the most part. While she had believed her husband to be a rake before, she’d come to know him and now spent more time with him. That suggested she knew him reasonably well.
This was not the man who he’d shown himself to be beneath the layers of constructed identity.
Righting herself in a straight line, holding her spine as erect as she could, Charlotte met the eyes of her reflection once more and nodded.
“It is settled then. I will get to the bottom of this for myself.”
Going to her door, Charlotte unlocked it and called out for one of the maids to bring her hot water to wash with. As she stepped back inside, she pulled off the chemise she’d worn to bed and discarded it among the laundry. Stepping behind a privacy screen in her room, Charlotte began the work of brushing through her hair. She knew it would not do to wait and allow it to get wet.
You will settle this, Charlotte. You will learn the truth of the situation from the source itself, and then, if necessary, you will speak with both your husband and your brother .
After a few moments, Diedre entered with the hot water. They made quick small talk, during which Charlotte asked for a carriage to be made ready. She informed Diedre where she wished to go, and though there was a brief fight about it, before long, Charlotte was dressed and headed downstairs to get into the prepared coach.
There was quite a bit to be done this day, and Charlotte wouldn’t wait a single moment to begin it.
Walking up the stone cobbles that led to the front of St. Peter’s. It was a long brick building of three stories, and each section across the front expanse held its own pointed uppermost windows and two chimneys poking up from the roof. At the far right end of the building was a curved section that Charlotte had to assume was where the chapel and receiving areas were.
A handful of nuns walked the path through the front gardens as she approached, and Charlotte nodded politely at them. She’d had the staff at her estate ride ahead to make them aware of her visit, and she’d been granted time with Lady Margaret, who Charlotte had to assume was being called Sister Margaret now.
Once inside, Charlotte was directed by the Mother Superior to the gardens at the rear of the convent, where Sister Margaret had been instructed to wait for her. They were truly lovely as Charlotte navigated the slim paths that led between the bushes and plots of plants—both floral and edible. And there at a small table near a fountain was Sister Margaret.
Charlotte took her seat, waiting for the Mother Superior to leave, and then smiled at the woman across from her.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Sister Margaret. I understand that I did not give you much notice of my arrival.”
The young woman, likely a handful of years older than herself, nodded with a gentle smile, which was so fit for her face it helped to ease Charlotte’s nerves.
“Of course. It is easy to accommodate visitors here. Unless we are currently in prayer, it is our delight to speak with anyone who wishes to know more about the convent’s services and programs.”
Clearly the servant who had gone on ahead of her had not informed Margaret why Charlotte wished to speak with her. Blasted…ugh, I shall have to do this myself.
“Apologies, Sister Margaret. I have actually come to speak specifically with you.” She straightened in her seat some, her brows rising. “I am an…acquaintance of the Duke of Mullens, Frederick Lawrence.”
Magaret’s features blanched as the shock worked through her. Her expression was so natural that Charlotte had to assume there was no possible way she might have ever thought to prepare herself for a visit from one of Frederick’s new…ladies.
“Frederick?” The Sister whispered, shaking her head. “What could…I’m quite sorry, but I don’t understand. Why is a woman from Frederick’s life coming to speak with me ?”
“I…I will be frank.” Charlotte nodded, and Margaret returned the gesture, silently agreeing to dispense of formality for now. “I am his wife, and I was recently made aware of his time with you. It is stated in a scandal sheet that I was given that he ruined you, forced you to go to this very convent to get away from it all.”
Margaret’s eyes flared all the wider, and she bobbed her head in a steady nod. After a moment, she sighed, slumping slightly into her chair as she reached up and rested her arms on the table. There, Margaret fiddled with the sleeves of her long dress, the customary black color, and after another long pause, finally met Charlotte’s eyes.
“It is something to know that after all this time, there is still so much weight set upon that exchange. I truly had thought it had faded from all memory.”
“It likely has, for the most part. Still, my brother had found the sheet somehow, and he has been… adamant about his position regarding Frederick.”
At once, Margaret took Charlotte’s hands, gripping them tightly as her wide-eye countenance bore into the Duchess with intensity.
“No, no, no. Your brother does not understand. Frederick did not force me into the convent. I wanted to be here.”
Charlotte sat back, her jaw dropping slightly. “Pardon?”
A choir of sighs, that’s what they had both become at this point, and Margaret started up again.
“I knew of Frederick’s reputation. I’d heard the talk about his rakish exploits, and I sought him out. My parent and I…you see, we had never seen eye to eye on what I wanted to do with my life. I was not interested in marriage or becoming the mistress of a house. I wished to be here.”
Margaret scanned her eyes across the landscape around them, that soft smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she appreciated the building and grounds that surrounded her.
“You wished to be at the convent?” Charlotte cocked her head, trying to understand.
“Yes. I wanted to be a nun, but my parents did not support it. I had sought out several men who I’d heard possessed a rakish nature, but it wasn’t until I found Frederick that I found the person I needed to ensure my plan succeeded.”
“And what kind of person was that?”
Grinning, Margaret lowered her head to meet Charlotte’s stare hard. “One who was not a true rake but possessed the reputation of one.”
Understanding clicked in Charlotte’s head, and she leaned back in her chair, her fingers going to her mouth as she gasped softly.
“He allows that reputation to cling to him, but he hasn’t been with many at all. Frederick has told me as much himself.”
“Precisely, Your Grace.” Margaret nodded. “I needed it to look like I had been ruined without having to give myself over. My body is for God alone; that is how I have wanted it, and thanks to Frederick, I have been able to keep that promise.
“In fact, I had been the one to approach him. I had gotten him interested in me, all things looked as they should from the exterior of the situation, but Frederick never actually touched me. I started the rumor myself, but I tried to keep it sequestered to only my family. I had no idea that the sheets spread so far because my parents told me they had covered it all up.”
Charlotte was stunned, utterly flabbergasted, and her mind spun as she put both her hands to her mouth and stared down at the table between them.
“Does Frederick know that you wanted to be here?”
When Charlotte looked up at Margaret, it was a mournful expression that the Sister wore.
“No, I don’t believe he does. Apparently,” she sucked in a hard breath, the sorrow of the truth clear in her face and body language, “apparently, he had got to my parents to ask for my hand, attempting to do the right thing. I had already gone however, delivered to the convent the very evening I told my parents about the event. I only learned of his actions once I was here and settled with no way to thank him.”
“He tried to marry you?” Charlotte’s throat felt tight, the burn in her eyes growing. “He…Frederick tried to marry you to do the right thing, and he doesn’t know that you wished to be here? Oh God, how he must feel about all this.”
Margaret looked defeated and was clearly enough into that pit of despair that she allowed Charlotte to take the Lord’s name in vain and not bat an eye. It was just such a wild situation. Frederick had been coerced by a woman who only sought to keep herself free of marriage because her “heart” already belonged to the church.
It seemed that, yet again, in what was likely the millionth time such a thing had happened, a family had worked to control a young woman’s life so thoroughly that she was forced to go to desperate lengths to ensure her own happiness.
Happiness. Such a simple thing to want and such a horrible fight to achieve.
Charlotte’s own father had done so much that kept the entire family from finding joy, and Magnus was falling into the same footsteps in an attempt to protect her. Hell, Frederick’s father had tried to force his son into marriage and the life he wanted with little regard for his son.
Was this to be the way of life? Was everyone set to be miserable, always yielding to the whims of their family or going to horrible lengths to weasel out a nugget of happiness for themselves?
Why is Frederick so sure that he was the villain in that situation if he had never even touched Margaret?
Confusion and regret and pain and sympathy swirled through Charlotte, a storm of emotion that she didn’t feel large enough to contain. She needed to discuss this with her husband, to understand what he was trying to do by saying that he had ruined this woman.
“Thank you, Sister Margaret.” Charlotte stood up from the table, taking the Sister’s hands and holding them tightly for just a moment. “You have provided me with clarity. I am very grateful for your time.”
Margaret stood as well, leaning into wrap Charlotte in a brief embrace before she stepped back.
“You are so welcome, Your Grace. Please, should you see your husband and wish to aid us both, please let him know that I had never intended to cause him harm or suffering. I had made a mistake not telling him of my wishes. I am sure that he would have been happy to help me should I have confessed the truth.”
Charlotte nodded, her eyes falling to the rough stones beneath their feet before she could look up at Margaret again.
“I will.”
“He is a good man,” the Sister insisted. “I am sorry for my part in all this, truly. Still, I want you to know that he could have taken advantage of the situation and never did. He was honorable to the last.”
“I appreciate that, Sister. Endlessly.”
The two of them said their last goodbyes, and then Charlotte was off. If the carriage could fly, she would have asked it to do so. She needed to get back home and speak to Frederick. He had lied to her, and Charlotte had a feeling that it was the result of his belief that he deserved his reputation.
Of all the things she’d learned about her husband, Charlotte now understood vehemently that he did not see the worth he possessed. And, if it were the last thing she did, Charlotte was going to convince him.