An Unpracticed Heart

Chapter Six

Charlotte heaved the last of the wet sheets into the basket, grasped the woven handles with red, aching fingers, and lifted up the entire burden onto her hip.

The last five days had been spent putting Ellesferth Castle to rights, every floor scrubbed, every leg of furniture waxed, every piece of silver brought out of storage and polished into pristine brilliance; and all for a master who remained determinedly cloistered away in his room, requesting nothing from his servants, nor even deigning to answer the heaviest of knocks applied to his door.

Mrs. Faraday continued on as if nothing about Lord Cowden's behavior were amiss, her list of chores only multiplying with each passing day. The older woman seemed to delight in once again having a household over which to preside, her small figure seen bustling from room to room, dictating orders to one of the newly acquired maids or criticizing the quality of the mending on a set of curtains in the breakfast room.

Charlotte passed through the washroom door, her eyes squinting at the brilliant assault of the sun's rays. The air was still chilled, cold even, but there was sunshine for the first time in weeks. A great rush began to open windows and doors, to hang out rugs and blankets and freshly laundered linens beneath the blinding sun as it cut its course across the burnished blue of the March sky.

A light wind tugged at her skirts as she bent down and deposited her basket on the ground beside the clothesline. As she stood up again, her gaze drifted towards the back wall of the house. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she took in the crumbling stonework that flanked the doors and the cracked and hastily repaired windows on the second and third floors.

She hadn't seen the outside of Ellesferth more than two or three times since arriving here, and during one of those instances she'd been too distracted by the falling of both sleet and gentlemen to notice the condition of the building behind her.

It was a roof over her head, Charlotte reminded herself, and dragged the corner of a wet sheet from the basket. She fished in the pocket of her apron for a handful of clothespins, and with one great heave, tossed the bulk of the fabric over the line before she smoothed it out and fixed it in place with the wooden pins.

By the time she finished, her hands throbbed from the cold. She retrieved her empty basket and hurried inside, the sun's light seeming to have lost some of its warmth now that her hands and the front of her dress and apron were damp from the laundry.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she found the beginnings of the midday meal spread out on the table. There were nine people who now called the crumbling estate home, not counting Lord Hartley, and the routine activities such as mealtimes had started to become a more elaborate production than when it had only been Mrs. Faraday and herself, with Roger and the old gardener stepping in for a sandwich or a swallow of tea.

Charlotte made a cup of hot tea for herself from the kettle near the fire. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, her fingers trembling with relief as she walked towards the sideboard where her aunt stood, loading a tray with food.

"I don't know why I even go to all the trouble," Mrs. Faraday said, and placed several slices of ham and hard cheese on a plate. "He rarely touches any of it. Maybe a bite of bread or a few sips of broth." She muttered a few more choice words, and covered everything neatly. "If he's intent on starving himself, that'll be his privilege. I'll not suffer a guilty conscience for it."

Charlotte looked down at the tray of food, none of which would likely be eaten by its intended recipient. She took a small sip of tea and sighed.

No one had laid eyes on Lord Cowden for five days. In fact, Charlotte was the last person who saw him, to speak to him before this unusual seclusion he'd imposed upon himself. But three times a day, without fail, Mrs. Faraday placed a tray overflowing with victuals outside his door. And three times a day, without fail, she returned to collect a tray that had hardly been disturbed, if at all.