Chapter 7
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Chapter 7
Charlotte entered the Drawing Room. Though the late morning sun streamed through the windows with brilliant intensity, she continued to rub her eyes and stifle yawns—the consequence of having conversed with Leopold deep into the night.
I'm delighted to be able to help His Highness Leopold. A prince who spent his childhood in England, no less.
Charlotte stifled her third yawn as the thought crossed her mind. One could tell from the way Leopold had won over Count Oslo that he possessed detailed knowledge of the noble English gentlemen of her generation and their families. Moreover, the information he possessed and his penetrating insight into human nature had been invaluable in helping her hold her own among gentlemen of good standing at the welcoming ball.
In truth, merely spending time in his presence feels as though I'm absorbing his dignity. At this rate, won't I truly begin to appear as though I've received a royal education?
Charlotte settled into a chair in the Drawing Room with deliberately refined composure. Across from her, Helena was practicing at the piano, while her mother Lydia Augusta was absorbed in reading. Young Katie, who had been sitting at the secretary desk in the corner writing letters, came bounding into the Drawing Room with ink stains smudged across her cheeks.
A secretary desk is a folding desk with storage compartments used for writing letters or doing paperwork.
"Charlotte! You're awake. I was just about to include an account of your exploits at Count Oslo's Residence yesterday in a letter to Jane."
Katie spoke with unbridled excitement.
"Bianca has already told all the servants about what happened yesterday—how clever you were, and how the Royal Nobleman, Count Oslo, and the young gentlemen behind the Count all looked at you with such admiration."
Katie shook her brilliant golden hair, characteristic of the Augusta Family, with evident pride.
"And then Sydney, our governess, wept, saying that it seems Miss Charlotte has finally come of age for marriage."
Whether Katie's words were true or not, Bianca and the maid Collin were laughing by the fireplace. They held several scraps of fabric in their hands, apparently preparing new hair ornaments for the welcoming ball's dance.
Just as Katie was about to speak again, their mother Lydia Augusta approached them.
"Now, Katie, do calm your excitement and finish your letter to Jane. No, a lady cannot write letters with ink smudged all over her face like that. Once you've finished the letter, go to Sydney and ask her to wash your face."
Lydia Augusta gently urged Katie along. Then, with the practiced ease of a mother of five daughters, she addressed Bianca and the maid Collin.
"Bianca, stop giggling with Collin and go check on Aunt Elicia in the Garden—make sure she hasn't fallen asleep again. If she has, bring her a blanket. Collin, would you fetch Charlotte's remaining breakfast from the kitchen?"
Bianca pouted but departed for the Garden with a blanket in hand. Collin gathered up the decorative fabric and headed toward the kitchen. Only then, as the Drawing Room fell silent save for Helena's piano playing, did Lydia Augusta speak.
"Charlotte, you mustn't oversleep and skip breakfast with the family. While you were sleeping, Mr. Philip Oslo, the son of Count Oslo, came by to see you."
"The son of Count Oslo?"
Charlotte asked in surprise, and Lydia Augusta continued.
"Yes, it seems he came at Count Oslo's request to deliver the invitation in person. Do you remember when we met Count Oslo and the Royal Nobleman yesterday? There were several gentlemen standing behind them. Mr. Philip Oslo was one of them."
From across the room, Katie added while setting down her letter.
"Mr. Philip Oslo is incredibly handsome, unlike Count Oslo!"
"Katie, a lady shouldn't speak that way, should she?"
Lydia Augusta cautioned Katie before turning back to Charlotte.
"In any case, it seems he was quite impressed by you. And no wonder—I thought the best we could manage was to reduce the compensation, yet that stubborn man actually apologized to you directly. Even his son, Mr. Philip Oslo, said it was the first time he'd witnessed such a thing. He expressed a strong desire to deliver the ball invitation to you in person."
"He was impressed by me...? What do you mean?"
Rather than answer, Lydia Augusta winked at Charlotte. A gentleman delivering a ball invitation in person—perhaps he intended to request the first dance with her at the ball beforehand. It was not uncommon for a gentleman to request a dance in advance from a lady who had captured his interest.
At this thought, Charlotte's face flushed crimson in an instant.
'A dance request from a man who isn't my cousin, whom Father secretly arranged? Even if Mr. Philip Oslo weren't handsome, even if he wore ridiculous whiskers like Count Oslo, I would accept without hesitation.'
It was then that Helena, who had been practicing at the piano, stopped playing and turned around.
"Charlotte, when exactly did you become interested in art? And what about England's naval history? Do we even have anyone in the navy in our family?"
Charlotte, who had been lost in pleasant reverie, spoke with slight embarrassment.
"Oh? Well, Helena, you know how much I love reading. And... ah yes! Aunt Elicia told me some stories about it."
Helena narrowed her eyes at Charlotte's flimsy excuse and spoke.
"Charlotte, don't lie. Most of what you read..."
It was true that Charlotte often read in the Reading Room, but the books she selected were predictable—treatises on the secrets of love and marriage, or tales brimming with fantasy. Just as Helena was about to press further, Collin arrived with Charlotte's belated breakfast.
"Helena, let's talk about this later. I'm absolutely famished...."
Charlotte retreated toward the staircase, tray of food in hand, evading Helena's interrogation.
***
"Ugh...."
A groan escaped my lips. Philip Oslo might actually ask me to dance. To prepare for this momentous occasion, I had begun devouring every dance manual and etiquette book in the house. Yet the stiff, preachy prose and creased illustrations stubbornly refused to lodge themselves in my mind.
'But when exactly am I supposed to remove my gloves, and how?'
I sighed particularly at the passage explaining how a lady could convey countless sentiments through merely holding or removing her gloves—grasping one end meant "I find you intriguing," while sliding them off to the wrist meant "I am yours." Undoubtedly vital knowledge for any proper lady, yet studying these faint illustrations risked my inadvertently communicating something entirely unintended to those around me.
"I should have paid attention during etiquette lessons from the start. But Maria was so critical...."
I muttered to myself, deflated. Whether learning from my parents or my governess Maria, I always lagged behind my sisters and received reproach. Consequently, I had learned not proper etiquette, but merely how to hide my mistakes from others' sight.
As I continued wrestling with the book, the sun descended beyond the horizon. Twilight crept in, and the maid Collin placed a candle in my room.
It was as I repeatedly opened and closed the book.
"Is your ideal suitor perhaps hidden within those pages?"
Leopold's voice drifted in gently, carrying the scent of early autumn wood. I lifted my head abruptly.
"Your Highness Leopold!"
I cried out, my face breaking into a radiant smile. Leopold chuckled softly at my warm greeting.
"You're the only person in this world who would greet a ghost so enthusiastically."
Regardless, my face bloomed with delight.
"I was just hoping to ask for Your Highness's assistance."
As I gazed upon Leopold's beautiful countenance, my spirits lifted inexplicably.
"My assistance, you say."
Leopold raised an eyebrow at Charlotte before settling into the chair beside her.
"So, what is this matter where you require my assistance, my lady?"
Charlotte found herself wondering why Leopold insisted on addressing her as "my lady" rather than by her name. Surely, once people had come to know each other even slightly, wouldn't it be proper to call her Miss Augusta?
Yet with the upcoming ball weighing heavily on her mind, Charlotte began to voice her concerns.
"It's about the Royal Court's welcoming ball for His Majesty. Since it's a royal affair, I truly don't wish to bring shame upon the Augusta Family. But this confounded etiquette manual—I simply cannot grasp it. Must a proper lady truly be so constrained? Not even a glove, not even a gesture can be made freely? It seems rather excessive, doesn't it?"
Charlotte glared at the etiquette manual before continuing.
"If I conduct myself properly at the royal ball, it will be easier to approach His Majesty's 'old friend,' and furthermore...."
"It will also serve you well in approaching your prospective suitors."
Leopold added quietly, watching Charlotte vent her frustrations to herself. At his words, Charlotte's ears flushed slightly pink.
"Well, yes, that too."
This ball would be her first true opportunity to dance with a proper gentleman—and with the son of an earl, no less. If her parents, George and Lydia Augusta, witnessed such a scene, they might finally heave a sigh of relief regarding Charlotte.
Charlotte glanced at Leopold cautiously before whispering as though sharing a tremendous secret.
"In truth, while I was asleep today, Philip Oslo, the son of Count Oslo, came to call. He delivered a personal invitation to me. Which means...."
"That he intends to ask you to dance. So you wish to familiarize yourself with the proper etiquette of the ballroom."
Leopold spoke, recalling the familiar customs of English society. When he lifted his gaze, he found Charlotte before him—her face flushed, her expression brimming with excitement and anticipation.
'She wears such a solemn expression, as though dancing with a gentleman were the most important matter in the world.'
Leopold then responded with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Very well, my lady. I shall assist you."
With his words, Leopold's hand extended toward Charlotte's gloved hand.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org