Charity looked at her fully then, and in Augusta she saw the same terror she felt herself. The only difference was how both chose to deal with it.
“I must have faith,” Charity said clearly and then lowered her voice so that only Matilda could hear.“ Otherwise, I will fall apart, and if I fall apart, you will too, and Matilda…” she glanced down at the little girl’s trembling mouth, “...will have no one to hold on to at all.”
Augusta’s mouth opened, as if to protest, but the priest’s voice rose above them. He was calling for silence, as it was time for the burial.
Charity’s gaze went back to the coffin, and her heart did a strange thing, a painful tightening.
She had known her parents for scarcely more than a year and a half.
Now they were gone. If she had any hope for their relationship to improve within their lifetime, there was no possibility of it anymore. That door had forever closed. She was grieving not only their deaths but the possibility of ever knowing them properly at all.
Matilda squeezed her hand again, as if sensing Charity’s thoughts. “Charity,” she whispered, “promise me you won’t die.”
The request struck Charity like a blow, and she was caught off guard by just how innocent it was.
Charity bent closer to Matilda, “I am not going anywhere.”
“Promise,” Matilda’s eyes searched her face.
“I promise,” Charity said, closing her eyes.
The coffin began to lower, ropes creaking softly. Matilda made a small, strangled noise and buried her face against Charity’s skirts. Augusta stood rigid beside them, her lips pressed together. It was a startling realization that they were not simply sisters standing at a grave; they were three girls with a title and a fortune and no parents to take care of them any longer.
The rest of the funeral passed by in a daze. Charity did not recall the people who stopped her to pay her condolences, or the glances of pity that she received as she passed them by. It was still a new world for her, and things would take some time to grasp.
But what she did remember was being summoned to a side just as they were about to leave for their Estate.
“My dear nieces.”
The voice belonged to Edward Cluett, or rather, the new Lord Orton. He stood a few paces away, dressed in immaculate black, and his gloved hands resting lightly on the head of his cane as though he were an observer rather than a participant in grief.
“Uncle,” Augusta said, not bothering to hide the displeasure in her voice.
Edward’s gaze flicked to her, and a faint smile touched his mouth as though he found her hostility mildly amusing.
“Miss Augusta,” he replied, and then his attention moved to Matilda. “And little Matilda.”
Matilda shrank closer to Charity without speaking. The entire exchange, although innocuous on the surface, unsettled her. One should not assume the worst of people, but Charity got the odd sense that her uncle was preying on them like a buzzard. His mannerisms surely seemed to suggest so.
She stiffened slightly at the realization, and realized the shift in her demeanor, and immediately took on an expression of concern.
He must be watching me closely, she thought.
“I am so dreadfully sorry about your poor father and mother. It is a tragedy, truly,” Edward went on. Even when expressing his condolences, he kept a sharp eye on her at all times, as though he was afraid to miss out on some vital piece of information that could be conveyed by the slight flicker in Charity’s expression.
Charity kept her face composed as a result. She did not want to let too much of her internal feeling show, as she simply did not feel safe enough to do so.
“I do appreciate your concern. Thank you,” she said evenly. Edward nodded, as though satisfied by her restraint.
“And yet, we must be practical, must we not? Even tragedy does not halt the responsibilities of life.”
“We have barely finished burying them,” Augusta cut in with a scowl on her face.
Edward’s brows lifted condescendingly, as though he regarded her as an inconvenience at best.
“Yes, and that is precisely why we must speak. The transition is now. If we delay, the consequences multiply.”
Charity’s fingers found her rosary again, and she forced her voice to remain calm.