A Study In Scarlet Women Read Free Page B

She’d become too disconcerting, a lovely child who paid no attention to anyone or anything. If she had any thoughts at all, she never shared them with a single person.
    Charlotte, with her blond ringlets and big blue eyes, resembled Bernadine almost exactly. But whereas Bernadine was rail-thin—nothing Cook made ever agreed with her—Charlotte was a roly-poly dumpling, her cheeks full, her limbs round, her hands adorably chubby.
    A cherubic girl, one who was as silent as the small hours of the night. She nodded, shook her head, and pointed, if necessary. Cook insisted that one time, in answer to the question
How many pieces of apple fritter do you want, Miss Charlotte?
, the girl had given a beautifully enunciated
Twelve
. But no one else had ever heard her say so much as
Mamma
.
    One time Livia had overheard Lady Holmes weep about her family being cursed.
Not only can I not have sons, but half my daughters are imbeciles!
Livia had come away feeling both relieved that she herself wasn’t an imbecile and heartbroken that Charlotte, whom she found darling and hilarious—she never failed to smile at the sight of Charlotte attacking her food—might someday become as unreachable as Bernadine.
    But now Charlotte had spoken her first full sentences. Livia would have been indignant had anyone else corrected her so unceremoniously, but
Charlotte
had spoken and Livia had—no, not butterflies, but a whole stampeding herd of wildebeest in her stomach. With everyone else still dumbstruck, she shook Charlotte’s mitten-clad hand, which she held in her own, and asked, “Do you mean a proposal of marriage, Charlotte?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous, Livia,” Lady Holmes scoffed. “She doesn’t know what that is.”
    â€œYes, a proposal of marriage, Mamma,” Charlotte answered. “Iknow what that is. It is when a gentleman asks a lady to become his wife.”
    Again, stunned silence all around.
    Sir Henry got down on one knee, a feverish gleam in his eyes. “Charlotte, my dear, why do you say these images constitute a proposal of marriage?”
    Charlotte cast a critical eye at the picture, her expression amusingly grown-up. “It isn’t a very good one, is it?”
    â€œMaybe not, poppet. But why do you say it’s a proposal in the first place?”
    â€œBecause it says
Will you marry me
. Actually, it says
Well you marry me
.”
    â€œI can see a well. And I can see that the horseshoe opens up and looks like a U. And the Virgin’s name is Mary,” said Sir Henry. “But how is the cat ‘me’?”
    â€œExactly,” Henrietta joined in. “That makes no sense.”
    Livia would have liked to shove a snowball deep down the front of Henrietta’s frock. But Charlotte didn’t seem to mind. “The cat is in the middle of a meow. But since there’s only half a cat, it’s half a meow. And half a meow is ‘me.’”
    Henrietta pouted. “How do you know half a meow isn’t ‘ow’ inst—?”
    â€œHenrietta, shut up.” Sir Henry placed his hands on Charlotte’s pink cheeks. “That is remarkable, poppet. Absolutely remarkable.”
    â€œAre you sure?” said Lady Holmes. “She might be making things up and—”
    â€œLady Holmes, kindly shut up, too.”
    â€œWell!” Lady Holmes sputtered. But she wasn’t as easily silenced as Henrietta. “But you must tell Charlotte that since she is able to speak, she may no longer be so rudely silent.”
    Sir Henry sighed. “Do you hear your mother, poppet?”
    â€œBut Papa, why should I talk when I’ve nothing important to say?”
    Sir Henry barked with laughter. “Why, indeed. You’re wise beyond your years, my dear poppet. And you have my blessing to be as silent as you’d like.”
    This was said with a glance at Lady Holmes, the corners of whose lips turned down