Status: In Progess
The Duchess
Chapter Two
Charlotte carefully rearranged her skirts yet again, sparing yet another glance at the duke from the corner of eye. He sat rigidly, seemingly enraptured with the performance the young prima donna was giving. Letting out a soft sigh, she leaned back in her chair, preparing herself for yet another hour of being sentenced to sit by her fiance’s side. She glanced over at her mother who appeared to be dozing off yet again. Her mother found the arts tiresome and would not have reduced herself to setting one foot in an opera house had they not needed a chaperone.
While the prima donna sang, Charlotte busied herself with thoughts of her future husband. She had only met him once before and he had been as civil and stiff as he was now. He was a man of few words, that Charlotte could tell even now. On the journey to the opera house, he had only spoken words of polite greeting to her and had remained mute for the remainder of the journey. She had been hesitant to try and start up conversation with him, and only with the silent prodding from her mother had she even attempted. It had ended as she had expected, with a wordless look and nod from him and a clear body language that he had wanted to be left alone.
Charlotte would never forget the first time she had met him. She had been sixteen then and he twenty-eight. The difference in age between them had seemed massive to her. Even though he was but twelve years older than her, he seemed to have a wisdom beyond her years. He no longer laughed at the things she found humorous, or busied himself with running after the newest person to enter the ballroom realm. They had dined alone, with a portly, elderly maid that had slumbered in her chair while they ate. Few words had been said and they mostly sat uncomfortably.
Finally, Charlotte’s boredom was sated when the ballet dancers gracefully entered the stage. She had always had a soft spot for the ballet. The dancer’s grace was truly something to envy, it seemed to come with natural ease. When she had been a small child, she had fancied herself with the idea that she might grow up to live the life of a ballet dancer rather that of a lady. Her dreams had quickly been crushed by her mother who proclaimed that no orthodox ladies became ballet dancers.
The prima donna had again entered the stage and Charlotte began to feel the first inkling of jealousy in her core. She felt not an ounce of affection for the duke in her body, but she felt a sense of possession over him. He was her intended, and the thought of him placing his affections with another woman made her feel sick to her stomach. She shook her head as if to shake the thoughts from her head. More than likely, she was just imaging things.
The performance ended with bouquets of roses and other flowers being thrown at the prima donna. A quick glance down at the program lying open on her lap gave her the information that her name was Gabrielle. Frowning, she turned to gently place a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Startled from her sleep, her mother’s reaction was quite comical to Charlotte.
“I will be back,” The duke said, turning to her. “I will meet you in the lobby.”
With that, he turned on his heel and exited the box. Now, Charlotte was normally a docile creature on every other day, but something about the tone of his words sparked
curiosity in her. Taking a few moments to gather her courage, Charlotte made her excuses to her mother, before gathering her skirts and taking off into the direction the duke had gone. A maze of hallways filled with chorus girls, singers, and their well wishers lay before her and the only thing that kept her confidence that she could just barely see the duke’s head, his hair jet black and curly, above everybody else’s. She thanked God that he was a tall man.
Finally, they entered an empty corridor, and Charlotte darted behind the wall leading to it, pressing her body as close to the wall as possible so as to prevent being seen. Unmistakably, she heard the voice of the prima donna, Gabrielle. Charlotte felt a twinge of some strange feeling in her gut, she frowned.
“Peter, darling,”
Charlotte frowned. On what terms was this woman on with her fiance that she could call him by his given name and call him by a term of endearment. She felt anger course through her body. Suppose she was his-his mistress. How dare he place his affections elsewhere while she was his betrothed.
“I had assumed you would not come and visit be, seeing as you came with that little fiance of yours.” The way she said fiance made it sound as if it was terrible to be such a thing.
So her fears were confirmed, this woman was his mistress. While she had been glumly mending the curtains, and going with dinner so that they could impress him, he had been seeking comfort in the arms of this woman. Despite this new knowledge, Charlotte knew that she would do nothing about it. If Charlotte did not marry him, her family would be thrown in the poorhouse. Edith would have no hope for marriage with someone with an upstanding social position. Their name alone would not save them.
“You should not have doubted me.”
Charlotte noticed the change in his voice. It was not as a cold and stiff, and if she was not mistaken, there was a little warmth in it. Certainly he never sounded like this when he spoke with her.
“Never mind her.” Gabrielle giggled.
Charlotte felt her stomach sink and she choked back a sob. Gathering her skirts, she turned and ran, not caring if they saw her. So that was that, she was doomed to a loveless marriage, a marriage in which her husband would leave and find comfort in the arms of another woman while she sat at home, melancholy while she awaited his return.
While the prima donna sang, Charlotte busied herself with thoughts of her future husband. She had only met him once before and he had been as civil and stiff as he was now. He was a man of few words, that Charlotte could tell even now. On the journey to the opera house, he had only spoken words of polite greeting to her and had remained mute for the remainder of the journey. She had been hesitant to try and start up conversation with him, and only with the silent prodding from her mother had she even attempted. It had ended as she had expected, with a wordless look and nod from him and a clear body language that he had wanted to be left alone.
Charlotte would never forget the first time she had met him. She had been sixteen then and he twenty-eight. The difference in age between them had seemed massive to her. Even though he was but twelve years older than her, he seemed to have a wisdom beyond her years. He no longer laughed at the things she found humorous, or busied himself with running after the newest person to enter the ballroom realm. They had dined alone, with a portly, elderly maid that had slumbered in her chair while they ate. Few words had been said and they mostly sat uncomfortably.
Finally, Charlotte’s boredom was sated when the ballet dancers gracefully entered the stage. She had always had a soft spot for the ballet. The dancer’s grace was truly something to envy, it seemed to come with natural ease. When she had been a small child, she had fancied herself with the idea that she might grow up to live the life of a ballet dancer rather that of a lady. Her dreams had quickly been crushed by her mother who proclaimed that no orthodox ladies became ballet dancers.
The prima donna had again entered the stage and Charlotte began to feel the first inkling of jealousy in her core. She felt not an ounce of affection for the duke in her body, but she felt a sense of possession over him. He was her intended, and the thought of him placing his affections with another woman made her feel sick to her stomach. She shook her head as if to shake the thoughts from her head. More than likely, she was just imaging things.
The performance ended with bouquets of roses and other flowers being thrown at the prima donna. A quick glance down at the program lying open on her lap gave her the information that her name was Gabrielle. Frowning, she turned to gently place a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Startled from her sleep, her mother’s reaction was quite comical to Charlotte.
“I will be back,” The duke said, turning to her. “I will meet you in the lobby.”
With that, he turned on his heel and exited the box. Now, Charlotte was normally a docile creature on every other day, but something about the tone of his words sparked
curiosity in her. Taking a few moments to gather her courage, Charlotte made her excuses to her mother, before gathering her skirts and taking off into the direction the duke had gone. A maze of hallways filled with chorus girls, singers, and their well wishers lay before her and the only thing that kept her confidence that she could just barely see the duke’s head, his hair jet black and curly, above everybody else’s. She thanked God that he was a tall man.
Finally, they entered an empty corridor, and Charlotte darted behind the wall leading to it, pressing her body as close to the wall as possible so as to prevent being seen. Unmistakably, she heard the voice of the prima donna, Gabrielle. Charlotte felt a twinge of some strange feeling in her gut, she frowned.
“Peter, darling,”
Charlotte frowned. On what terms was this woman on with her fiance that she could call him by his given name and call him by a term of endearment. She felt anger course through her body. Suppose she was his-his mistress. How dare he place his affections elsewhere while she was his betrothed.
“I had assumed you would not come and visit be, seeing as you came with that little fiance of yours.” The way she said fiance made it sound as if it was terrible to be such a thing.
So her fears were confirmed, this woman was his mistress. While she had been glumly mending the curtains, and going with dinner so that they could impress him, he had been seeking comfort in the arms of this woman. Despite this new knowledge, Charlotte knew that she would do nothing about it. If Charlotte did not marry him, her family would be thrown in the poorhouse. Edith would have no hope for marriage with someone with an upstanding social position. Their name alone would not save them.
“You should not have doubted me.”
Charlotte noticed the change in his voice. It was not as a cold and stiff, and if she was not mistaken, there was a little warmth in it. Certainly he never sounded like this when he spoke with her.
“Never mind her.” Gabrielle giggled.
Charlotte felt her stomach sink and she choked back a sob. Gathering her skirts, she turned and ran, not caring if they saw her. So that was that, she was doomed to a loveless marriage, a marriage in which her husband would leave and find comfort in the arms of another woman while she sat at home, melancholy while she awaited his return.