The Return (Book One in the Wattpad Featured Return Series)

Chapter Twelve

1798

I wake with the sun, despite getting little sleep the night before. It was almost impossible with Charlotte next to me. She insisted on going over every detail of the party, listing the names of every man she interacted with, remarking on their character flaws both on and off the dance floor. Much to my dismay, she spent far too much time listing the merits of Martin Cissell. It was hard to listen to her go on and on about a man I found to be so insufferable, but she didn't stop chattering long enough to ask my opinion, and I certainly wasn't going to offer it.

She also passed along some gossip before we went to sleep: apparently Levi's uncle, Charlie, got caught by one of the servants with the very married Mrs. Henderson in the second-story alcove. Charlotte couldn't help gushing over how handsome Charlie was, and how he was wasted on Mrs. Henderson, who, in her opinion, was practically ancient at twenty-three.

In exchange for her gossip, I told Charlotte about seeing Nora Potter come out of the cellar right after a man; but, despite her lengthy interrogation I maintained that I hadn't seen the gentleman in question. There was so little excitement in our lives that it didn't seem right to ruin her fantasy about Mr. Cissell this early.

I throw off the covers and walk over to the basin, already filled by an invisible housemaid while we slept. As I wash myself off, I glance over in dismay at the faded blue cotton dress I arrived in yesterday, lying out on Charlotte's chaise. After wearing the borrowed dress last night, I'm ashamed to have Levi see me in that old thing.

For a moment I contemplate waking Charlotte and borrowing something to wear, but that would only lead to a lot of questions, none of which I'm prepared to answer right now. I could have told her about Levi last night, but at the last minute I decided to keep it to myself. It's not that I don't trust Charlotte; it's just this is all so new and I'm not sure I'm ready to have anyone pick it to pieces yet.

Begrudgingly, I slide my old dress over my head, recalling Levi's sudden coolness when he discovered that the necklace I wore last night wasn't mine. He now knows that I'm not part of the town's elite, and yet... he still asked to escort me home.

I study myself in the mirror, my own bewildered expression staring back at me. There is no need to add any color to my cheeks, which are already rosy from nerves, but I do take the time to run Charlotte's heavy silver hairbrush through my curls.

When I'm finished, I tiptoe out of her bedroom, shutting the door behind me, careful not to wake her. It's early, but the rest of the house is already busy with activity. Servants flurry about, cleaning up from last night and preparing for the oncoming day.

I creep down the staircase and make it across the foyer to the front door, but as soon as I place my hand down on the brass knob a shrill voice from the dining room stops me.

"Eleanor!"

My stomach drops.

It's Alma Aberson.

Slowly, I remove my hand, disappointed at how close I was to escaping without having a run-in with Charlotte's mother. Straightening my dress, I slap on my most pleasing smile, and reluctantly enter the large dining room on my right.

Alma sits at the head of the large wooden table with mountains of food laid out before her. There's a large bowl of porridge, a loaf of warm bread, and a pitcher of cider. My stomach growls at the aroma rising from the platters, but I'm not offered anything, nor am I foolish enough to ask.

"Tell me, was your plan to just sneak out of my house without even a thank you?" Alma lifts the pitcher, filling her mug, and not bothering to make eye contact with me.