Charity felt a little hopeful, but was did not let her emotions get ahead of her. She still had her doubts about her Uncle Evander's ability to connect with her, if only because they were so different, but was not opposed to trying. Even if he turned out to be the least paternal figure, she knew she was not lacking much, as her own father had failed in that regard. There was a part of her, buried deep in her heart, that sincerely hoped he had a softer side to him; and that he and her Uncle Alfred would one day love her—truly love her!—and she would finally belong. For now, though, she was happy to have a place to sleep.
"I have all of my things," she said, rattling the handle of her suitcase. "But I do think some of my dresses are still in the carriage. I can't imagine they all fit in here." She hoped her Uncle Evander, if he did not have his eyes set on one already, would think to marry in the months or years that followed; she could hardly imagine turning to him for fashion advice!
"I must admit that the stress of this morning has taken a toll of my nerves, and I feel a nap is in order. May we go now?" she asked, glancing between the three men.
"I have all of my things," she said, rattling the handle of her suitcase. "But I do think some of my dresses are still in the carriage. I can't imagine they all fit in here." She hoped her Uncle Evander, if he did not have his eyes set on one already, would think to marry in the months or years that followed; she could hardly imagine turning to him for fashion advice!
"I must admit that the stress of this morning has taken a toll of my nerves, and I feel a nap is in order. May we go now?" she asked, glancing between the three men.
