Page 22 of Falling for a Footman

Fourteen

“How was your day, Charlotte?” her mother inquired as Charlotte entered the drawing room where her mother and Lucy were having tea. Miss Walker had been sent to ask her whether she wanted to have tea with them, and Charlotte had accepted since... well, she did not really have a headache, she was in fact starving because she had not had anything to eat since breakfast and most importantly, she needed to be distracted from constantly thinking of James.

“It was good. I rested,” she answered her mother as she filled her plate as much as she dared. Her stomach was growling at the sight of the small sandwiches and biscuits. She hoped that her mother and Lucy could not hear.

It was not a lie that she had rested. After she had returned to her room, she had been lying on the bed, replaying over and over what had happened between her and James. Even now as she bit into a salmon sandwich, the kiss seemed to hum on her lips. She wanted to touch her fingertips to them but felt that it would be too revealing.

“I’m glad. Did Cook’s potion help?” her mother asked.

Charlotte nodded and took another bite of her sandwich to avoid saying anything. At least it had not done any harm. The feeling as if a light bolt tore her in two momentarily stopped her tracks: What if James had been able to taste it? The potion had had an herbal, earthy taste that was not how Charlotte would wish him to think she tasted. She could not remember what he had tasted like though. Only the feeling of his warm mouth and the urge to keep exploring him...

“How was Mrs. Miller?” she asked to stop her impertinent thoughts.

“She is really well, but childbirth also gets much easier after the first couple of children,” her mother explained and nibbled on a biscuit.

“Perhaps it’s not universal, but merely Charlotte and me being stubborn and difficult infants,” Lucy teased her.

This was the first words she had uttered since Charlotte had entered, which was unusual for Lucy. When Charlotte cast a glance in her direction, she saw however that Lucy had piled her plate even higher than Charlotte had. That explained it then. Although Charlotte would not put it past Lucy to speak with food in her mouth. Especially when it was just the three of them.

“Oh, no, the first couple of births are always the longest and toughest, you can ask any woman. After that it’s much easier. They almost take the labor part out of labor, and you just have to push a few times to get the child out,” their mother confided.

Lucy and Charlotte exchanged a bemused glance. Their mother did not usually speak this freely about bodily issues. Perhaps seeing the infant had loosened something in her. Or perhaps it was the talk of marriage that she had had with them previously this year.

“So how long did it take when you had Charlotte?” Lucy asked and put an entire biscuit into her mouth.

Their mother tipped her head as she clearly had to think back for a moment.

“About four and twenty hours I believe,” she answered. “But you should ask your father. He will probably remember more clearly. I was a bit hazy regarding time at the moment.”

Charlotte could not imagine asking her father about this and she doubted that even Lucy would be bold enough to do so either.

“And how about me?” Lucy asked without commenting on the statement about their father.

“About twelve hours, I believe. But you really should ask your father about this matter,” their mother went on.

James had parents somewhere. A mother who wrote him letters and evidently was in the employ of the Marquis of Riplingham. She had already known that he had worked for the marquis before. He had told her, when they had spoken in the library, but... at the time he had said that his sister was his only family and that he had moved to Somerset to be closer to her.

Her heart pounded fast and hart in her chest, as the inconsistency added to the many others that she had discovered by visiting his room: his expensive trunk and shoes, the fact that he was able to read, that the marquis franked his mother’s letter. Charlotte doubted that the marquis would simply do that for any of his members of staff.

For a wild moment she thought about actually writing to Lady Riplingham and asking her about her former footman James. That would be the fastest way to have her answers, but despite how much she liked Lady Riplingham, she was also fairly certain that she would be overstepping a line if she did so.

“It was such a shame that you could not join us, Charlotte,” Lucy interrupted her thoughts. “Mrs. Miller’s youngest was truly ugly.”

Charlotte tried to focus on the statement since it had absolutely no relevance to her sending a letter to the Marchioness of Riplingham or not. Why was Lucy telling her this? Right, they had been to visit Mrs. Miller earlier.

“Lucinda,” their mother scolded, but Charlotte could hear the smile in her mother’s voice.

“Well, he was, Mama,” Lucy said amiably, completely ignoring their mother’s chastising.

“Perhaps, I have seen infants that were not as...” Their mother began and made a movement with her mouth and nose as if her face was scrunched together. Charlotte could imagine the look. Gregory had had something similar about him when he was an infant, although she would never tell her mother.

“He was truly ugly, Charlotte,” Lucy beamed. “I have so many sketches of him. I will show them all to you later. I hope your children are just as ugly...”

Charlotte’s stomach somersaulted at the mentioning of children. She really ought not to be thinking along those lines now. Especially not children with dark blue eyes and brown hair.

“Why would you hope that my children are ugly?” she asked and could not help but sound a bit defensive.

“Because ugly infants are much more interesting to draw. Did I not tell you? If you have boring beautiful children, it will not be nearly as much fun to sketch them,” Lucy explained and stuffed her mouth with a biscuit.