Breathless (4 page)

After a lovely dinner with the Careys, with more conversation than Charlotte and her own family usually had, she happily made her way back to her room. But something caught her attention as she walked down the hallway-a half-open door, streaming with light.

Charlotte had never been one to curb her curiosity. Without even a glance around, she opened the door and stepped inside.

It was a library, so wonderful that it took her breath away. It was probably the biggest one she had ever seen, apart from the one back at school. Charlotte couldn't conceal her grin as she turned in circles, looking up at each and every shelf. She could only imagine what stories these shelves held.

"I see you've found my hideaway."

Charlotte gasped and turned in surprise. Lewis stood in the doorway.

"I-I'm sorry," Charlotte stammered.

"Don't be," Lewis told her, walking forward with his hands in his pockets. He was taller than Charlotte had thought, and leaner. He looked around at the library, smiling, then said to Charlotte, "These books are my most prized possessions. Apart from my wife, of course," he added with a grin and a wink. "I'm a playwright, if you didn't already know, Charlotte. I always loved to read from a very young age. Books were my companions. Books are special," he continued, a glorious look passing over his face. "They can take you to places you've only dreamed of, introduce you to people you're idolized your whole life, and take you on adventures of a lifetime. All without leaving your seat."

"I love books," Charlotte told him. She ran her fingers over the spines of a few on a nearby shelf, admiring them. "I used to read all the time back home. There wasn't much else to do, except for schoolwork and listening to my mother complain. It wasn't a very exciting life."

Lewis smiled at her candor. "Well let's see what we can do about that," he said, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He mounted a ladder that reached to the highest books and began to pull them off their shelves.

"I think some Shakespeare would be beneficial to you, seeing as you're the daughter of a Shakespearean actress," Lewis said, accumulating a stack already. "Mark Twain and Oscar Wilde are wonderful reads. And how about some Victor Hugo for our little French-girl? Surely you've read him before? Ah, and perhaps some childhood favorites-did you enjoy
Alice in Wonderland
and
Peter Pan
?"

"Yes, both!" Charlotte exclaimed. "
Peter Pan
was always mine and Luc's favorite! We used to spend hours and hours pretending to be Peter and Wendy!" She blushed a bit after divulging this childish antic. "I suppose playing characters runs in the family."

"I'm counting on it," Lewis said. He smiled and handed Charlotte the stack of books. "Here you are. These should keep you occupied for a while."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "Do you mean..."

"Take them back to your room. Take your time with them and give them back when you've finished. I know most of them by heart now, anyway."

Charlotte looked up at Lewis admiringly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Lewis replied with a smile and tousled Charlotte's hair. "I'm glad to share my collection with another avid reader. But you should be getting to bed. You've had a long day."

"Yes," Charlotte nodded. She could hardly believe that only earlier that day she had been standing in her bedroom back in France. She looked up at Lewis one last time. "Thank you, Lewis. For everything." She gave him a quick grin before running upstairs to her bedroom.

Shutting the door behind her, Charlotte excitedly ran to her bookcase and carefully arranged her new selection, admiring each and every one. Anxious to begin reading, Charlotte shed her evening dress and stepped into the new linen pajamas that Helen had bought for her. They felt as smooth as silk against her skin. Finally, she grabbed Lewis' copy of
Romeo and Juliet
and curled up on her window-seat, cracking open the pages. She smiled when she noticed a sweet dedication written on the inside cover in elegant script.

To my dearest Helen, the love of my life, on your opening night as Juliet:

May you steal the audience's hearts, just as you've stolen mine.

With all my love forever,

Lewis

Charlotte grinned at the sweet message and leaned back against the window frame with a sigh. If only she could someday have a love just like Lewis and Helen's-still so sweet after so many years together-then she would die happy. But where could she possibly find someone as wonderful as Lewis was? One thing was for certain, Charlotte decided as she flipped to the opening pages of her book-she did
not
want to end up like her own mother and father. No matter how passionate their love had supposedly been when they met, it had certainly withered and died over the years. For as many times as Charlotte had seen her father glance at her mother lovingly over the dinner table or after she returned home late at night, she had never seen her mother return the affections.

Charlotte tried to shake these thoughts from her mind as she began to read the first lines of her book, but noises outside distracted her from her reading. Peering out the window, Charlotte saw a shiny black car pull up to the curb, stock full of unruly boys. They must have been drinking, she thought sourly, remembering the boys from her class in France who would sneak drinks for fun and think they were wise for it. Charlotte scoffed as the boys in the car gabbed and laughed for a few minutes before one of the young men finally stumbled out of the far and said goodbye to the others. Charlotte tried to get a look at him, but all she could see was that he had dark hair and a lean frame, as well as a wide smile. She took a drag from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth and waved to the other boys. And then, surprisingly, he turned and walked through the front doors of the Careys' house.

Charlotte frowned and sat back on the window-seat. Was there another manservant at the house? Mrs. Gates had said Topher had been the only one. And anyway, there couldn't be any reason why the Careys would employ a drunk in their household. So who was this mysterious young man who lived with the Careys?

Charlotte left the window and turned on her bedside lamp. She curled up under the covers of her bed with her book, preparing to read herself to sleep as she had for so many nights back home. But unlike at home, she was going to sleep with a smile on her face, reading the glorious words of Shakespeare, and wondering about the strange boy who would be living with her.

Charlotte could barely give herself the motivation to wake the next morning, even though sunlight was streaming through the windows. Her bed just felt too warm and cozy.
Besides
, she thought to herself as she buried herself even further under the covers,
the moment I go downstairs, Mother will just start bothering me about one thing or another...

Charlotte suddenly sat up in bed.
Mother isn't here
, she remembered, everything flooding back to her now. Her mother wasn't there, not to ridicule her or to boss her around or tell her what a miserable child she was being. As much as Charlotte already missed her home and Luc, she was relieved to be away from all of that.

And best of all, Helen had planned an outing for the pair of them! Charlotte grinned and threw off the covers, running to get dressed. It had been years and years since her own mother had even taken her for a girls' day out. In fact, the last time Charlotte had been on a shopping trip with adult it had been with her school friend Jacqueline and Jacque's mother. But it still hadn't felt right. Charlotte had felt like the third wheel of the trip. But today, she decided as she slipped a pastel-striped dress over her shoulders, today would be wonderful. Helen was so intent on having a relationship with Charlotte, and Charlotte was going to make sure she enjoyed it immensely. She nearly skipped down the stairs to the dining room, fantasizing about what the dream would be like...

"Oh, there you are, Charlotte!" Helen said with a beaming smile. She stood at the dining room table, hurriedly stuffing papers into her bag. "Good morning. I hope you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you. My bed is so comfortable!" Charlotte told her with a grateful smile.

"Wonderful! I do love my feather bed, as well," Helen grinned. She snapped her bag shut and put on her hat. "Now, I'm so sorry darling. I know I promised we'd have a girls' outing today, but I'm afraid I've been called to the theatre early for some extra rehearsals. This show isn't coming together quite as nicely as I would have hoped, but I do have a commitment to the cast and the company. You understand dear, don't you?" Helen walked over to Charlotte and put an arm around her shoulders. "I promise, love. The very first day I'm free of rehearsals and performances, I promise we'll have our shopping trip and lunch. Maybe we can even go see a show at the theatre, hm? Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Oh yes," Charlotte agreed, forcing a smile on her face. "That would be wonderful, Helen. You must go to rehearsals. It's your job."

"Oh, Charlotte. Sometimes theatre just isn't a job...it's my life," Helen told her with a small smile. "I wouldn't give it up for the world, but it is very...time consuming. I'd like to spend more time with my family." She gently tapped Charlotte's nose with the tip of her finger. "I must be off. I'm sure Mrs. Gates will accompany you if you still want to go out today. If not, please feel free to make yourself comfortable in the rest of the house. It's yours too, now." Helen gave her one last smile before saying goodbye and turning for the door. And then she was gone.

Charlotte let the fake smile drop from her face. She sighed and sat heavily at the dining room table. She couldn't help but feel disappointed, even though Helen did have a good reason for cancelling their trip. It was Helen's job. Charlotte couldn't blame her for going to work. But still...memories of her own mother flooded Charlotte's mind.

I can't come see your school show, Charlotte. I have a performance, too. Which is more important?

Charlotte, please stop sulking. I know it's your birthday, but we need to prioritize our time. Daddy and Luc will have supper with you today and I will take you to buy a present when my show finishes.

Don't you dare cry in front of me, young lady. I will not condone it. You know I detest bringing children to the theatre, and this is exactly why...

Charlotte shook her head, as if trying to erase these terrible memories. Helen didn't seem one bit like her own mother, but like always, theatre seemed to be getting in the way. But at least Helen was making an effort. At least Helen seemed to care.

"You should come to expect it, you know," said a voice from the doorway. Charlotte turned sharply. Standing there was the young man from last night. He seemed sober now, but dark circles lingered under his eyes, no doubt from the alcohol. He was handsome though, Charlotte decided, with his chestnut brown hair and blue eyes.

"What?" Charlotte asked the boy.

"Helen tends to make promises she can't ever keep," he said matter-of-factly with a shrug. "But probably even
more
annoying than that is Lewis, who
insists
on keeping his promises."

Charlotte was immediately piqued by his comment. Who was he to tell her how tactless Helen was or how annoying Lewis could be? These people had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go. Why did this boy think he could tell her otherwise?

"Well, since you were eavesdropping on our conversation, you must have heard Helen say that she had to go to
rehearsals
," Charlotte said defiantly, her temper beginning to flare. "It's her job. That's a little more important than a shopping trip."

"I heard," he replied dismissively. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. They're quite as wonderful as I'm sure you're imagining them to be in your head."

"And who are you to say that about them?" Charlotte asked. She sized the teenager up-he wore plain slacks and a button-up shirt. He didn't give off the air of anyone fancy. How could he be criticizing Lewis and Helen? He was probably just a servant! He probably didn't even know them! "Lewis and Helen have been nothing but wonderful to me. They were so gracious to take me in like this when I couldn't go anywhere else-"

"Yes, my parents do give off wonderful and gracious impressions," he cut her off with a smirk. "I think half of London would agree with you. But unlike me, half of London wasn't raised by the lovely Careys. Therefore, I don't believe they could have full impressions of my parents." He raised his eyebrows at Charlotte, as if imploring her to argue her point further. But Charlotte was too surprised to even comment.

"I'm Jack. Jack Carey. I'll bet you didn't know Lewis and Helen had a son." Jack chuckled at Charlotte's shock, only angering her further. "I don't suppose they like to mention me to a lot of people. I've heard the phrase
troublemaker
associated with my name quite often. Or perhaps it's because I'm hardly home. There's too much to do outside of this house, and nothing interesting enough to keep me in it."

Charlotte searched Jack's face for something to remind her of Lewis' quiet kindness, or Helen's sweet cheerfulness, but although she could make out Lewis' dimples in Jack's cheeks and the same cornflower hue in his eyes as Helen's, there was nothing about this boy that resembled his parents' pleasant dispositions.