Midnight in Austenland
Page 18
Charlotte cleared her throat and tried to sound unrattled. “Hi, baby. How are you doing?”
“Fine,” he said.
“What have you been doing for fun?”
“Nothing.”
Okay. “So, tell me the favorite thing you’ve done in the past week.”
“Sleep.”
Mm-hm. “Do you sleep on the pullout couch?”
“Yep.”
“I’m having a pretty weird time. I’ll have to tell you all about it when I get home.”
“K bye.”
“Wait—I love you, Beck, and I miss you lots. Can you put your father on before you hang up?”
Sound of phone switching hands.
“Charlotte!”
This was not James. This was Justice, a.k.a. the Other Woman. Charlotte’s stomach seemed to withdraw into her body like a snail into its shell.
“Charlotte, I just want to tell you how darling the kids are. So cute. I thought you’d like to know. SO cute.”
“Thanks, Justice. I think so too.”
“No, I mean now. This week. I’m sure they’ve never been so cute as they are this week. I mean, SO cute.”
“I’m glad it’s all going well.”
“The best! Just the best! I could eat them up! Do you know, Beckett called me ‘Mom’?”
Now Charlotte’s stomach dissolved into nothing. “He did?”
“Mm-hm! Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s healthy for them, right? To accept me as another mom, right? Not Mom like you, of course, but another mom, right? So, are you having a fun time playing in England?”
“Yes, I am, thanks.”
Justice’s voice dipped low and suggestive. “Meet any men?”
Charlotte’s face made an expression that belonged on Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s face. “May I speak with James, please?”
“Sure thing. Just don’t try romancing him. I’m watching you two!” She laughed pleasantly.
Charlotte stayed silent.
Sound of phone switching hands.
“Hello.”
Now that was James. His “hello” sounded more like “be concise.”
“Hi, James. It’s Charlotte. The kids were a little nonverbal, so I just wanted to check that everything was okay.”
“Yep, it’s all okay. Having the time of their lives.”
“Okay then. Thanks for watching them.”
“Sure, bye.”
Charlotte pushed End and sat back. Deep breath and exhale those toxins, she could hear her yoga instructor say. Charlotte made herself light-headed trying to purge out the toxins. They weren’t budging. Stupid, stubborn, lead-butted toxins.
Why had she thanked James for watching them? He was their father, not a babysitter. Get a spine, girl. And how could she just take all that from Justice? But maybe she deserved it … Stop that, Charlotte! It’d been good to hear Lu’s and Beckett’s voices at least. Would have been nicer had their words been different.
The phone’s battery was low, so she dug through her bag, found the recharger and adapter, and plugged it into the wall. She looked around the desk for a magazine or something else to read while she waited so she wouldn’t replay the conversation in her mind again and again. She moved aside a folder.
The one beneath was labeled “Windy Nook.” It really was an appealing name. Charlotte flipped the folder open, hoping to find a photo that would match the lovely image of it that she had in her head. First she found a stack of legal papers: lists of debts, back taxes, threat of foreclosure, then a lease to a third party.
Okay, now she was just straight-up snooping.
Underneath the stack was a series of group photographs from the past ten years labeled “Windy Nook Cast.” Several gentlemen, servants, and an older-looking married couple (possibly the host and hostess?) posed in front of a grand house. Pembrook Park looked as happy as Cinderella’s castle by comparison. Windy Nook was decidedly Gothic—narrow windows, toothy battlements, and a tower with a single window watching over all. Mary, Charlotte’s maid, was present in the last three photos, looking her usual pale-to-transparent self. Neville apparently had been the butler there for several years. Mr. Mallery was in every single photo.
A folder beneath, labeled “Bertram Hall,” contained similar documents—debts, taxes, and this time a sale, though the sale price barely covered the debts and taxes owed. There was a floor plan of Bertram Hall, which, though not as large as Pembrook Park, was a very grand house, and she had to believe it was worth more than the sale price, especially if it was kept up as nicely as Pembrook. Mrs. Wattlesbrook did not seem like a careless businesswoman, but apparently she’d dropped the ball on this one.
Then Charlotte noticed the signature on the bill of sale: John Wattlesbrook.
The cast photos showed Bertram Hall to be cheerier than Windy Nook, with a yellow stone facade and an exuberantly flowering garden. A younger Colonel Andrews made an appearance in two of the cast photos for Bertram Hall. Charlotte couldn’t find Eddie in the casts for either house, and she remembered Miss Charming’s whispering that he was new to Pembrook Park. What had he been up to before?
The door opened. Charlotte stood up hastily, knocking the stack of folders to the floor. Mrs. Wattlesbrook was in the threshold, eyes narrowed.
“Mrs. Wattlesbrook! Sorry, you startled me. I couldn’t find you this morning so I came alone to make my call. You remember, I’d talked to you about having to call my kids regularly. So I just did. And now the phone is recharging …”
She felt her face heat up, and she crouched behind the desk, hurriedly stuffing the loose papers back in their folders.
“Sorry. I startle easily, I guess, and I’ve messed up your tidy folders.”
“I can take care of that, Mrs. Cordial,” she said, stooping over to retrieve the papers.
Charlotte stood. “Okay. Sorry. Thanks.”
Her heart was thumping, unused to artifice. Just how had James managed to have an affair and not show it? The hassle of furtiveness would have done her in. Maybe it had been exciting for him, in some sick way. Maybe the heart-pounding and face-flushing he’d felt whenever he’d lied to Charlotte or almost got caught made him euphoric, not sick in the stomach.
“Sorry,” Charlotte said again before returning her phone and bag to the cabinet and leaving. She didn’t know who she was apologizing to. Maybe everyone in the whole world.
“Fine,” he said.
“What have you been doing for fun?”
“Nothing.”
Okay. “So, tell me the favorite thing you’ve done in the past week.”
“Sleep.”
Mm-hm. “Do you sleep on the pullout couch?”
“Yep.”
“I’m having a pretty weird time. I’ll have to tell you all about it when I get home.”
“K bye.”
“Wait—I love you, Beck, and I miss you lots. Can you put your father on before you hang up?”
Sound of phone switching hands.
“Charlotte!”
This was not James. This was Justice, a.k.a. the Other Woman. Charlotte’s stomach seemed to withdraw into her body like a snail into its shell.
“Charlotte, I just want to tell you how darling the kids are. So cute. I thought you’d like to know. SO cute.”
“Thanks, Justice. I think so too.”
“No, I mean now. This week. I’m sure they’ve never been so cute as they are this week. I mean, SO cute.”
“I’m glad it’s all going well.”
“The best! Just the best! I could eat them up! Do you know, Beckett called me ‘Mom’?”
Now Charlotte’s stomach dissolved into nothing. “He did?”
“Mm-hm! Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s healthy for them, right? To accept me as another mom, right? Not Mom like you, of course, but another mom, right? So, are you having a fun time playing in England?”
“Yes, I am, thanks.”
Justice’s voice dipped low and suggestive. “Meet any men?”
Charlotte’s face made an expression that belonged on Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s face. “May I speak with James, please?”
“Sure thing. Just don’t try romancing him. I’m watching you two!” She laughed pleasantly.
Charlotte stayed silent.
Sound of phone switching hands.
“Hello.”
Now that was James. His “hello” sounded more like “be concise.”
“Hi, James. It’s Charlotte. The kids were a little nonverbal, so I just wanted to check that everything was okay.”
“Yep, it’s all okay. Having the time of their lives.”
“Okay then. Thanks for watching them.”
“Sure, bye.”
Charlotte pushed End and sat back. Deep breath and exhale those toxins, she could hear her yoga instructor say. Charlotte made herself light-headed trying to purge out the toxins. They weren’t budging. Stupid, stubborn, lead-butted toxins.
Why had she thanked James for watching them? He was their father, not a babysitter. Get a spine, girl. And how could she just take all that from Justice? But maybe she deserved it … Stop that, Charlotte! It’d been good to hear Lu’s and Beckett’s voices at least. Would have been nicer had their words been different.
The phone’s battery was low, so she dug through her bag, found the recharger and adapter, and plugged it into the wall. She looked around the desk for a magazine or something else to read while she waited so she wouldn’t replay the conversation in her mind again and again. She moved aside a folder.
The one beneath was labeled “Windy Nook.” It really was an appealing name. Charlotte flipped the folder open, hoping to find a photo that would match the lovely image of it that she had in her head. First she found a stack of legal papers: lists of debts, back taxes, threat of foreclosure, then a lease to a third party.
Okay, now she was just straight-up snooping.
Underneath the stack was a series of group photographs from the past ten years labeled “Windy Nook Cast.” Several gentlemen, servants, and an older-looking married couple (possibly the host and hostess?) posed in front of a grand house. Pembrook Park looked as happy as Cinderella’s castle by comparison. Windy Nook was decidedly Gothic—narrow windows, toothy battlements, and a tower with a single window watching over all. Mary, Charlotte’s maid, was present in the last three photos, looking her usual pale-to-transparent self. Neville apparently had been the butler there for several years. Mr. Mallery was in every single photo.
A folder beneath, labeled “Bertram Hall,” contained similar documents—debts, taxes, and this time a sale, though the sale price barely covered the debts and taxes owed. There was a floor plan of Bertram Hall, which, though not as large as Pembrook Park, was a very grand house, and she had to believe it was worth more than the sale price, especially if it was kept up as nicely as Pembrook. Mrs. Wattlesbrook did not seem like a careless businesswoman, but apparently she’d dropped the ball on this one.
Then Charlotte noticed the signature on the bill of sale: John Wattlesbrook.
The cast photos showed Bertram Hall to be cheerier than Windy Nook, with a yellow stone facade and an exuberantly flowering garden. A younger Colonel Andrews made an appearance in two of the cast photos for Bertram Hall. Charlotte couldn’t find Eddie in the casts for either house, and she remembered Miss Charming’s whispering that he was new to Pembrook Park. What had he been up to before?
The door opened. Charlotte stood up hastily, knocking the stack of folders to the floor. Mrs. Wattlesbrook was in the threshold, eyes narrowed.
“Mrs. Wattlesbrook! Sorry, you startled me. I couldn’t find you this morning so I came alone to make my call. You remember, I’d talked to you about having to call my kids regularly. So I just did. And now the phone is recharging …”
She felt her face heat up, and she crouched behind the desk, hurriedly stuffing the loose papers back in their folders.
“Sorry. I startle easily, I guess, and I’ve messed up your tidy folders.”
“I can take care of that, Mrs. Cordial,” she said, stooping over to retrieve the papers.
Charlotte stood. “Okay. Sorry. Thanks.”
Her heart was thumping, unused to artifice. Just how had James managed to have an affair and not show it? The hassle of furtiveness would have done her in. Maybe it had been exciting for him, in some sick way. Maybe the heart-pounding and face-flushing he’d felt whenever he’d lied to Charlotte or almost got caught made him euphoric, not sick in the stomach.
“Sorry,” Charlotte said again before returning her phone and bag to the cabinet and leaving. She didn’t know who she was apologizing to. Maybe everyone in the whole world.
