A Daughter's Duty

Chapter Three

   an extra special shoutout to @MaeShaanaP who voted for "ADD's" Prologue, and all the other readers who have kept up with m little story so far-you guys are amazing! Please keep reading, voting, and sharing this story if you're enjoying it, and give me some feedback if you feel like it! I love you and am so grateful to you! 

-Charlotte

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     The next morning, Cordelia found herself in the garden reading her Dickens. The party had just dispersed after breakfast, the men going for a walk around Loddington's grounds while the rest of the women got ready for the rest of the day. Cordelia looked down to her pale yellow day dress, completely contented to wear her current ensemble for the rest of the day's activities. 

     Life at Loddington Lodge remained slightly disconnected from the rest of society, which Cordelia saw as a blessing. She was pleased to not be expected to adhere to the strict rules of London. If she didn't want to change from her dress for the rest of her day, or walk through the halls without being "done up," she didn't have to. It was always just her and her father, and Lord Alfred almost always stayed out of Cordelia's way.

     As the woman of the house, Cordelia was, however, expected to take care of the running of things as they pertained to Loddington. She sat with Mrs. Beadle to make the dinner menu, worked with the butler when it came time to stock the house with its necessities, and for her proudest achievement, she completely redesigned the gardens that she was currently sitting in. 

     When her mother held domain over the household, she must not have cared much for the outdoors. When Cordelia came of age to take over, she made the grounds of Loddington her canvas and worked with the head gardener to make the now exquisite gardens look like the ones she'd read about in her novels. She looked over to the pristine hedges of white roses around her, and a slow breeze wafted their fragrance to her bench hidden in the shade.

     She was appreciating the quiet, undisturbed atmosphere when she noticed Lord Charles strolling through the twisted garden paths. Praying to the heavens that her houseguest wouldn't notice her seated there, she tried to hide behind her book, in hopes that maybe Charles Dickens could save her. After last night's outburst, she didn't have much of an interest in communicating with her and her father's guests, and was hoping that she could bury herself in the keeping of the estate for the remainder of their unwelcome stay. She was feeling like her plan was working without a hitch until Lord Charles' cough interrupted the garden's silence.

     "Ahem...Lady Cordelia, how are you today?" he asked. He had a book under his arm, Cordelia noticed, and his hair seemed slightly ruffled, perhaps by a breeze or his own hand. She bookmarked her place in her reading and set the book beside her on the bench, in hopes that Lord Charles wouldn't move it to sit close to her. He seemed nervous at finding her out here, and he kept shifting in his stance before her.

     "Lord Charles, I didn't expect to find you out here," she started, hoping that didn't come off as too rude to her unexpected visitor. He began shifting even more then, adjusting a button on his shirt and scratching at his hair. Eventually, she couldn't stand watching his bashful fidgeting any longer and turned back up to him, "please have a seat," and with that, she moved her novel.

     "I hope I'm not interrupting your time with Mr. Dickens," he said, setting his own book on his lap, an ornate cover that read "Great Expectations." 

     "Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold," Cordelia quoted, quizzing her partner to see if he could grasp the reference. Lord Charles smiled, and Cordelia noticed a dimple one of his cheeks. She found herself strangely focused on that dimple when he responded.

     "Of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day," he continued. That snapped Cordelia's attention from the dimple up right away, and she looked towards Lord Charles' eyes. Cordelia was impressed, though she knew she would never admit that to him. 

     "You know your Dickens, sir," she started, turning away to observe the flowers as a blush crept up her cheeks. "What do you make of gardens, Lord Charles?" 

     "Lady Cordelia, I've told you before that you may call me Charlie if you please. And as for gardens, I think they're delightful. This one, in particular, is rather nice," he said, looking around at the rest of the scenery. "We don't have any gardens quite like this at Heyworth House, regrettably, your gardener has quite an eye for design."

     With this, Cordelia scoffed, irritated that he should assume a gardener was responsible for her precious garden's layout. "It wasn't any gardener that design this place, I'll have you know...It was me. While I don't enjoy bragging, if there is one thing I'm most proud of around this place, it would be this," she said, gesturing to her surroundings again. "I created this space from the ground up, my mother had left the flora and fauna to their own devices for years. When I came of age to take it over, it looked like a jungle."

     "I'm sorry my lady, it was wrong of me to assume," he said, beginning to fidget once more. 

     "In fact, I've had to build much of Loddington from the ground up when I became old enough," she began with a sigh. "My mother left the estate in disrepair, and my father was too busy or perhaps too wounded by my mother's leaving to take up her former affairs," Cordelia said, unused to sharing so much about this subject with anyone-especially a stranger. She sighed, hoping her oversharing would drive away her companion.

     Instead, he turned closer to her and leaned in, grabbing her gloved hand. "My dear lady, I cannot begin to imagine the hardships your family has had to face in the wake of your mother's ummm....absence," he said, his face becoming very serious. "You are the strong woman this household-your father included-needs, and anyone that steps through Loddington's threshold can see that plainly." He was leaning even closer now and Cordelia, surprisingly, wasn't put off by his nearness. In fact, she wanted him to keep coming closer if he could. 

     She was enchanted by his words-for she'd never heard someone say them to her before, and the truth to them seemed to give her a sort of power. Looking at Lord Charles, she saw him in a different light. Gone was the young man she thought two-dimensional and simple like his brother. Before her, instead, was someone filled with layers of mystery that she couldn't quite understand. She didn't pull away from his hand on hers, the warmness of it driving away the small chill in the air, and she was quite content to stay like that, her looking into his eyes and him looking into hers, when Charles shot up from the bench.

     "I must be going, I'm sure the rest of the gentlemen are looking for me," his eyes focused now on someone approaching from the house. She followed his line of sight to her cousin trudging over from the back of the house, a bible in her hand and the wind whipping her raven-black hair into a nest around her face. Charles was gone in a flash, eager to avoid conversing with Cordelia's...difficult...relation. 

     Cordelia was left there on the bench, suddenly not as pleased as she was before to be without the company of Lord Charles. She looked to where he was sitting, and saw his book in his place, the only reminder that he had been there at all.