Lyon’s Prey

few more changes.” She paused and took a calming breath before she continued. “Was Papa . . . are we without funds?” She swallowed. Charlotte had never worried about her clothing purchases before, yet her uncle was being very specific when it came to how much she and her mother were allowed to spend. Not only that, but her uncle was always telling her mother she had been spoiled and they needed to save money. Papa had cherished her mother.
“Your father always told me we would be well taken care of should something happen, so I do not understand why we are limited in our mourning attire—in everything, in fact. Even the household accounts are challenged. Dear daughter, I do not know what to think. My brother says we are quite strapped.” The countess drew out the word in a huff.
It seemed her mother was beginning to question her brother. Still, Charlotte could not take the chance that Mama would see things as she did. At one and twenty years old, she was nearly firmly on the shelf. Had her father not passed and her brother not gone missing, she felt sure her life would have been different. However, it was to be the way of it, and she needed to accept things. Her uncle had made mention that it was high time she married. That, and the close attention he paid when she was near, was beginning to make her nervous. If they were as without funds as he claimed, perhaps she should consider employment. She worried so about her brother and mother. If her mother was more herself, she might consider it.
“My dear, I have sent word and asked to see a friend of mine tomorrow. I would like you to go with me,” her mother said in a detached voice.
“You were out? I would have accompanied you wherever you needed to go today. It has been an age since we have gone anywhere together,” Charlotte said solicitously.
“It truly has, my dear. But this was something I felt compelled to do, and when we are sure that we are alone, I will speak with you further. For now, please do not mention this to anyone.”
Footsteps outside the door caused them to stop talking. A moment later, Mrs. Graves, the housekeeper, stepped inside. “My lady, your brother has arrived and has alerted Myers that a visitor is expected.”
“Oh? Did he happen to mention who was expected?” Her mother inquired nonchalantly.
“I do not believe he gave the name, your ladyship,” Mrs. Graves responded.
“If you happen to hear, I would be interested in quietly knowing,” her mother’s voice was almost a low whisper.
“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper gave a polite curtsey and left them alone. As if they were wary of her uncle themselves, the household—especially Myers, their butler, and Mrs. Graves—had become protective since Papa died. As with Mrs. Graves, they found ways to apprise them of her uncle’s arrivals. How was it, though, that not even her lady’s maid had mentioned Mama’s outing to Charlotte? Perhaps it was because you have been out yourself these two days past, a voice in her head reminded her.
Mama had not been taking visitors—none that she had noticed, anyway. The only visitor was her uncle, and he came unannounced and had begun to use Papa’s study as his own. Her blood simmered when she thought about it for reasons she could not quite understand.
While her uncle mostly annoyed her, her mother’s activities took Charlotte by surprise. Mama had behaved so despondently since Papa died, Charlotte would have never imagined she would leave their home at all, much less without her. Just what is mother up to? If she worried about it, it would just frustrate her, so Charlotte resigned herself to being content and busy for the rest of the day. She would find out soon enough.
The next morning her mother sent her maid up to ready her for a visit. Jane laid out her long-sleeved lavender-grey day dress and matching shoes, which Mama had approved. It was slightly better than the black or plain grey tones, barely. Once Charlotte dressed, Jane created soft curls to frame several loosely woven braids fashioned into a chignon. Turning side to side, Charlotte admired Jane’s handiwork with a hand mirror. “You have never done this particular style. I like it.” She smiled at her maid, eliciting a soft giggle.
“Thank you, m’lady. ’Tis something I saw on the fashion plates in the store when we were there last. I wanted to try it and am glad it pleases you.”
Charlotte nodded and held up her mirror for one more peek. Noting the need for a bit of color, she pinched her cheeks. Satisfied with her appearance, she placed the looking glass down on her vanity and stood. “I am as ready as I will ever be. You have no idea who we are visiting today, do you?”
“No, m’lady. Your mother took a short visit somewhere yesterday, but I never thought to ask.”
Mama is being very mysterious, she thought to herself as she made her way to the entry. There, she found her mother waiting.
“Put on your coat, dear. We have an appointment,” her mother said, making her way out the door. “I would like to be home before your uncle visits. This is important.” She scurried down the front steps to their waiting carriage.
The footman placed a small wooden block under the carriage door and handed both ladies up inside, where warm bricks awaited them. That was thoughtful, she reflected, considering the weather was cold, and overcast skies threatened rain. “Mama, where did you say we are going?” Charlotte asked politely.
“I did not say, child, but we are going to see a woman who has agreed to help us.”
“Help us? With what? I do not understand.”
“Charlotte, you are one and twenty years of age. While your father and I would have supported additional seasons for you, we no longer have that luxury. I do not want you to suffer because you