A Marriage for Three

Chapter 1Bathampton, Gloucestershire 1798 Dashing down the stairs, clutching a book in her hand on her way into the parlour, Charlotte Grenville caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. The dull and shapeless clothing and smothering mob cap had become a familiar sight in her time as a ladies’ companion, but what made her hesitate was her utterly extinguished expression. As she stared at herself, transfixed, she realised she could be any one of the army of harried, dependent spinsters between the ages of twenty and sixty, anxiously hanging onto their jobs for survival. It was a frightening glimpse into a bleak future. But I’m only twenty-three, she thought with a tinge of despair. “Grenville, what’s keeping you? And where is my novel?” came the petulant cry from the parlour. Charlotte gathered herself and arranged her features into a subservient smile as she entered the room. “I have it right here, Mrs. Everleigh,” she said, attempting to placate the plump and pampered middle-aged lady whose pop-eyed, scrunched up features resembled those of the spaniel at her feet, although the animal had a much sweeter nature. As her employer reclined in a well-upholstered armchair, she pettishly directed Charlotte to place everything around her for her comfort and convenience. A dish of bonbons was arranged on a small table within easy reach, as well as a glass of cool lemonade. Then a footstool had to be brought closer and an extra cushion to support her back fetched. Once these items had been arranged to the lady’s exacting preference, Charlotte was directed to a hard-backed chair, with no refreshment for her dry throat, as she read aloud a chapter of the latest Gothic novel by Mrs. Radcliffe. She had always been encouraged to follow intellectual pursuits as a girl. As a result, she could read fluently in French and Latin and in her teens she had translated some of Catullus’ poems simply for pleasure. It was not that she sneered at enjoying popular novels, but to subsist on them only added to her sense of frustration. Charlotte wondered that her prosaic and narrow-minded mistress had such a taste for the fantastic. Her main worry while reading was to not burst out laughing at the increasingly ridiculous plots to which Mrs. Everleigh listened with saucer-eyed wonder. She carried on calmly retelling the farcical adventures of the headless monk, but after a few chapters Charlotte noticed Mrs. Everleigh’s eyelids start to droop and a soft snore was heard from the depths of the soft furnishings. Span looked up hopefully, knowing that the sound heralded his daily walk. Charlotte continued to read until it was certain that Mrs. Everleigh was truly asleep and she wouldn’t be upbraided for stopping too soon. Laying aside the book, she rose and the little dog sprang eagerly towards her. It was a bright spring day. Her need to escape from the stifling house overruled taking the time to run upstairs for her cloak. She took the lead from the hall stand and attached it to Span’s collar as his tail wagged in eager expectation. They went out into the fresh air. A light breeze danced about her, soothing her frayed nerves. This was the one part of the day when Charlotte had some much-needed time to herself. From the moment Mrs. Everleigh woke, until she retired to bed, Charlotte was compelled to be at her side, obliging her many whims and getting a sharp-tongued reprimand if she appeared to hesitate in any way. Meandering along the country lanes with Span ambling ahead of her, Charlotte wondered what had happened to the spirited young woman she had been only three years previously. Life had been easy and enjoyable with her whole family around her and her future, if not dazzling, looked to be bright. Disaster had struck in the form of her dear papa’s apoplexy and subsequent early demise, brought on by the news that a promising speculative investment had foundered utterly. The shock of the family’s bereavement had been compounded by the accompanying financial loss. The three older Grenville children had adjusted accordingly. Her older brother Matthew, two years her senior, was already serving in the navy, gainfully employed and newly promoted in the ongoing war against Revolutionary France. Her younger brother Fabian could no longer afford his studies at university. Thankfully, Mr. Price, their family solicitor who had done everything within his power to help them through the crisis, had taken him on as a paid clerk. Fabian repeatedly assured his sister that he was not only getting a fine grounding with Mr. Price but training for a profession as well as contributing to their family’s narrow means. Charlotte, well-educated and capable, had been full of the conviction that she was infinitely employable, and, like her brothers, she could send all her wages home to her mother to help keep the household running for her many younger siblings. As she walked, Charlotte thought cynically that it wasn’t her suitability that was the issue, but rather her employers. Three years’ graft had given her a great deal of hard life experience and she had to admit the sad reality that her current position was amongst the best of a bad bunch. However, the fact her term of employment was coming to a close caused her more solace than concern. Mrs. Everleigh was due to visit her sister in Hastings for the summer and did not wish to incur the expense of taking an extra servant. Charlotte could only feel sorry for the sister’s companion. Only three more weeks, she thought to herself as she and Span turned to make their way back to the house, keep smiling, bite my tongue, and hang on for three more weeks.