doesn’t mean that she hasn’t made up her own mind either. Charlotte can do a lot better than Richard Steele,’ she stated confidently.
‘We’ll see,’ Edwin gritted.
‘What do you think, Sarah? Do you have an independent opinion about all this?’ enquired Isobel.
Sarah’s cheeks turned a deep plum colour. She looked almost as angry as Edwin. ‘I think she’s made a mistake and I think she’ll rue it one day! And I’ve formed that opinion without any consultation with anyone!’
Charlotte had had enough. Rising to her feet, she strode over to the door. As she reached the doorway, she said over her shoulder, ‘You can all think whatever you like. I’ve no regrets. There are plenty more fish in the sea besides Richard!’
She spent the rest of the evening in her room, crying. She had meant it, though: if Richard didn’t love her enough to make some changes, she wouldn’t marry him.
Richard had also decided that there were plenty more fish in the sea, and fish who weren’t so choosy about the bait. In December, his parents received a letter from Southampton, telling them he had married.
Chapter 8
January 1866
I n the New Year of 1866, Charlotte went to live with George and Ann. Her father had told her that he believed it was in her best interests. Although he didn’t state his reasons in so many words, Charlotte knew he had more than one reason for sending her to Lyttelton. First, her prospects of finding a husband to her liking were far better there; secondly, she would be distanced from Isobel’s undesirable sphere of influence, which John was convinced had played a large role in Charlotte’s turning down Richard’s offer of marriage; and last but not least, relations between the Blake and Steele households would settle back into place far more quickly if she was elsewhere. Much as she didn’t want to leave the farm and her family, she couldn’t deny that it would be better for all concerned if she did.
Anyway, she didn’t want Richard to find her still at the farm and still unmarried when he next came to visit his parents, whenever that might be. As far as she was concerned, if she never saw him again it would be soon enough. She’d been deeply and bitterly hurt by what he’d done, far more than she’d let her family see. She had loved Richard and had thought he loved her. Despite their quarrel, she had truly believed that they would talk things over again when he was next ashore, so she’d been completely stunned when Benand Letitia had broken the news to them that Richard had married a woman from Southampton. Eliza somebody or other. Four months after he’d asked her to be his wife, he had married someone else! She almost wondered if he’d done it on purpose, to thumb his nose at her because she’d turned him down. She was more inclined to think it was simply an indication of how little he had really felt for her.
Living in Lyttelton had one obvious drawback, of course. It was the port where Richard would call whenever he visited his parents—not that he visited them often. But since Lyttelton was where George and Ann lived, there wasn’t much she could do about that. The likelihood of their paths crossing was fairly small anyway. When Richard was in port, she didn’t imagine he would be going out of his way to see her, and she certainly wouldn’t be going out of her way to see him.
Charlotte didn’t settle easily into life in Lyttelton. It was a far cry from her father’s farm, nestled in the beautiful Malvern Hills. The craggy hills surrounding Lyttelton rose up steep and stark; they were sparsely covered in scrubby tussock grass, and the skyline was rugged and angular. The fogs that rolled in were sea fogs, and the smells were the smells generated by fourteen hundred human beings congregating in close proximity. The unpleasant odour of human waste could quite regularly be smelled wafting across the town, when the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Wood smoke, coal
‘We’ll see,’ Edwin gritted.
‘What do you think, Sarah? Do you have an independent opinion about all this?’ enquired Isobel.
Sarah’s cheeks turned a deep plum colour. She looked almost as angry as Edwin. ‘I think she’s made a mistake and I think she’ll rue it one day! And I’ve formed that opinion without any consultation with anyone!’
Charlotte had had enough. Rising to her feet, she strode over to the door. As she reached the doorway, she said over her shoulder, ‘You can all think whatever you like. I’ve no regrets. There are plenty more fish in the sea besides Richard!’
She spent the rest of the evening in her room, crying. She had meant it, though: if Richard didn’t love her enough to make some changes, she wouldn’t marry him.
Richard had also decided that there were plenty more fish in the sea, and fish who weren’t so choosy about the bait. In December, his parents received a letter from Southampton, telling them he had married.
Chapter 8
January 1866
I n the New Year of 1866, Charlotte went to live with George and Ann. Her father had told her that he believed it was in her best interests. Although he didn’t state his reasons in so many words, Charlotte knew he had more than one reason for sending her to Lyttelton. First, her prospects of finding a husband to her liking were far better there; secondly, she would be distanced from Isobel’s undesirable sphere of influence, which John was convinced had played a large role in Charlotte’s turning down Richard’s offer of marriage; and last but not least, relations between the Blake and Steele households would settle back into place far more quickly if she was elsewhere. Much as she didn’t want to leave the farm and her family, she couldn’t deny that it would be better for all concerned if she did.
Anyway, she didn’t want Richard to find her still at the farm and still unmarried when he next came to visit his parents, whenever that might be. As far as she was concerned, if she never saw him again it would be soon enough. She’d been deeply and bitterly hurt by what he’d done, far more than she’d let her family see. She had loved Richard and had thought he loved her. Despite their quarrel, she had truly believed that they would talk things over again when he was next ashore, so she’d been completely stunned when Benand Letitia had broken the news to them that Richard had married a woman from Southampton. Eliza somebody or other. Four months after he’d asked her to be his wife, he had married someone else! She almost wondered if he’d done it on purpose, to thumb his nose at her because she’d turned him down. She was more inclined to think it was simply an indication of how little he had really felt for her.
Living in Lyttelton had one obvious drawback, of course. It was the port where Richard would call whenever he visited his parents—not that he visited them often. But since Lyttelton was where George and Ann lived, there wasn’t much she could do about that. The likelihood of their paths crossing was fairly small anyway. When Richard was in port, she didn’t imagine he would be going out of his way to see her, and she certainly wouldn’t be going out of her way to see him.
Charlotte didn’t settle easily into life in Lyttelton. It was a far cry from her father’s farm, nestled in the beautiful Malvern Hills. The craggy hills surrounding Lyttelton rose up steep and stark; they were sparsely covered in scrubby tussock grass, and the skyline was rugged and angular. The fogs that rolled in were sea fogs, and the smells were the smells generated by fourteen hundred human beings congregating in close proximity. The unpleasant odour of human waste could quite regularly be smelled wafting across the town, when the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Wood smoke, coal
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