Maid Under The Mistletoe (The Mapleton Family Saga #1) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,14

special elusive something, that feeling, of wanting and of needing. That feeling that this was the one.

But she’d not once come even close to finding it. So impractical! And the interest had dwindled to a trickle. Her last proposal was 3 years ago. Gentlemen weren’t interested in marrying vicar’s daughters who had achieved such and age as she had: six and twenty. In four years she would be thirty!

“His estate is grander than Papa’s.” Miss Fairchild added. “I’ll never want for anything.”

Charlotte tidied the lovely rose down with a soft brush. Miss Fairchild would look pretty in this color, rather than the pastels she normally wore. Her own brown skirt resembled a rag in comparison.

Perhaps Charlotte ought to have been more like Susan. Perhaps she ought to have exhibited such practicality. If she’d done that, she wouldn’t be working as a servant today.

Tears pricked the back of Charlotte’s eyes at the thought of lost opportunities, but she blinked them away, angry with herself for such futile thoughts.

When Lord Mapleton’s lips had touched her hand, she’d thought for an instant that all was right with her world. She’d ceased to be one person, alone, fighting for a place to belong. No, she had found her match, her other half.

But in the same instant, horror had fallen on her like a mountain of rock.

He was not for her.

He was an earl. He was also a day or two away from being betrothed to her mistress.

“I won’t require your attendance at dinner this evening. Mother says you’d make the numbers uneven.” Susan’s voice changed from a confidante to a superior. “Wait up for me regardless. I realize all of this…” she fluttered her hands in the air, “is new to you. But I don’t see why I should be prevailed up to suffer for your inadequacies.”

Charlotte was not a fool. She was well aware that her duties were not fulfilled until her mistress was abed. But instead of saying as much, she nodded. Another facet of servant life that would drain the very life from her soul.

She hadn’t minded hauling buckets of steaming water that morning, sewing until her eyes ached nor performing other menial tasks.

It was the lack of respect. The lack of dignity afforded most servants… Her soul fought and then died a little each time one of her employers referred to themselves as her ‘better.’

“I’ll be waiting right here, Miss Fairchild.” Charlotte forced a lilt to her voice. She would have preferred to grumble. How hard could it be to wait up a few hours so she could help Susan prepare for bed?

Several hours later Charlotte rubbed sleep from her eyes. She stretched in an attempt to rouse herself from the loveseat in Miss Fairchild’s suite. When she’d searched the room earlier for something to read, so she could stay awake, she’d only located a few fashion magazines and unfinished letters. She’d only meant to close her eyes for a few minutes.

She was not the world’s best companion, but she would succeed. She must.

Tired but restless, Charlotte rose and drifted toward the window. She could slip into the garden for just a moment. She touched the window. The air outside would be cold.

She’d only take a few seconds for herself. And then when she returned, she’d be more wakeful and ready to assist Miss Fairchild into her bed.

Since Charlotte’s own bedchamber consisted of a small cot in the dressing room, she didn’t have to go far to locate her coat and hat. And a scarf that her father had told her once belonged to her mother.

She slipped into the corridor and then tiptoed down the main staircase. Murmurs of conversation drifted up from the drawing rooms followed by occasional bursts of laughter. Who was she in this world? Did she belong anywhere anymore?

Outside alone, she could almost imagine she was her father’s daughter again. An icy breeze rustled a few remaining leaves in the trees, the moon shone like a beacon. For a few precious minutes, she could imagine herself a normal young woman with normal wants, normal tasks, and normal expectations.

A normal life.

Contentment teased her as she strode along the dirt path. Ten minutes, she’d only take these ten minutes to herself. She could pretend…

“You may kiss me if you wish.” Susan’s voice drifted through the trees, halting Charlotte in her tracks. She should have known others might be outside. With a house full of guests for the pending holiday at least a few of them would wish to