HER MOTHER TOLD THE DUKE SHE COULDN’T READ—THEN HE FOUND HER SECRET ROOM OF LAW BOOKS
Chapter 23
In September, Olivia received a proposal from a young baronet named James Fairmont.
Lady Margaret nearly wore a path into the drawing-room carpet before Olivia gave her answer. Charlotte expected yes. Everyone did. James was handsome, wealthy, and pleasant enough.
Olivia said no.
The silence that followed lasted long enough that the clock sounded indecently loud.
Margaret stared at her daughter. “Why?”
Olivia folded her hands. “Because I do not love him.”
“That is not a requirement for respect.”
“No. But respect is.”
Margaret’s face sharpened. “He respects you.”
“He likes the version of me who laughs at his stories.”
Charlotte looked down to hide a smile. Olivia continued, “I would rather wait.”
Margaret turned instinctively toward Edward for support. He pretended a great interest in the newspaper.
Then Margaret looked at Charlotte.
Months earlier, Charlotte’s existence would have been produced as a warning in that moment. One daughter failing to secure the family cannot risk another doing the same.
This time, Margaret said nothing.
She sat down.
“Very well.”
Olivia blinked. “Very well?”
“Do not make me repeat generosity. It is exhausting.”
Afterward, Olivia found Charlotte on the stairs.
“Did you hear?”
“The whole house heard.”
“Do you think I was foolish?”
Charlotte looked at her sister. “No.”
Olivia exhaled. Then she hugged Charlotte so quickly that neither of them had time to become embarrassed.
Their mother watched from the end of the corridor. She did not interrupt.
That evening, Margaret came to Charlotte’s hidden library for the first time.
She stood in the doorway beneath the sloping ceiling and looked around at the shelves — hundreds of books, notebooks stacked by year, wax stains on the desk, a blanket folded over the old chair for winter nights.
Charlotte waited.
Margaret picked up a notebook dated seven years earlier. “You did all this here?”
“Yes.”
“While we were downstairs?”
“Yes.”
Her mother opened the first page. Charlotte had copied an inheritance case in a cramped seventeen-year-old hand.
Margaret closed the book. “I thought you were avoiding us.”
“Sometimes I was.”
The honesty made both of them smile faintly.
Margaret walked to the window. “I was so frightened of losing the house that I began treating all of you like pieces on a board.” Charlotte said nothing. “I knew Olivia could attract people. I knew you could disappear when asked. So I used what I knew.”
There was no defence in her voice — only fact.
Charlotte leaned against the desk. “You also believed I might embarrass you.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt. Its honesty healed something at the same time.
Margaret turned. “I was wrong.”
Charlotte waited. Her mother’s eyes moved across the room again.
“I do not expect you to tell me it did no harm.”
“It did harm.”
“I know.”
A long silence passed. Then Margaret reached for Charlotte’s hand.
“I am sorry.”
No speech followed. Charlotte did not say that everything was forgiven.
She held her mother’s hand.
For that night, it was enough.