Free The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Brontë by Laura Joh Rowland

appeared eager to dismiss me and handle matters himself. What had changed?
    “I am most grateful for your assistance and concern, but I think that Anne and I should stay at least until Tuesday,” I said, spurred to assert my independence.
    “As you wish,” George Smith conceded graciously, but I could tell he was displeased.
    When dinner ended, the ladies retired to the parlor. The Smith sisters hurried to the piano, taking Anne with them, and Mrs. Smith joined arms with me.
    “I welcome this chance for us to become better acquainted,” she said in a friendly fashion. “Come, let us sit by the window, where we can smell the roses in my garden.”
    Seated beside Mrs. Smith on a divan, I nervously braced myself for questions about who I was and why I was there. I wouldn’t like to lie, yet I dared not break my pledge to Emily.
    The Smith sisters began playing and singing a gay tune for Anne. Mrs. Smith said, “My dear George is often at his business all twenty-four hours of a day.” Her maternal tone was fond. “He works so hard.”
    “How admirable,” I said, relieved that I was apparently not to be the subject of the discussion.
    “Yet he is the most attentive son and brother anyone could wish,” Mrs. Smith said. “No matter how busy he is, he always makes time for his family.”
    I had noticed the affection between my publisher and his family —particularly his mother.
    “George and I have always been the closest of companions,” Mrs. Smith said, as a maid served coffee to us. “I believe I know him better than does anyone else.” Her smile was uncannily like her son’s. “And I hope you will excuse a mother’s boasting if I say that I’m tremendously proud of him?”
    I nodded, trying to determine where the conversation was leading.
    The Smith sisters commenced a new song. Mrs. Smith said, “Even though George is so busy, he must soon embark upon a most important phase of his life.” Her manner turned conspiratorial. “You will understand that I refer to matrimony?”
    Wariness stole over me as I sensed something unpleasant coming, although I couldn’t imagine what.
    “The choice of a mate is difficult for my George. Wherever he goes, the young ladies flock around him.” Mrs. Smith’s hands lifted and fell in a gesture of mock helplessness. “Ah, but you understand his appeal for the fair sex—do you not?”
    Her smile persisted, but her eyes had turned hard as flints: She had noticed my admiration for her son, and her disapproval was evident. I felt mortified that I had been so transparent. I sat speechless.
    Mrs. Smith laughed, and the sound had an undertone of scorn. “But I have no doubt that my dear George will make the right marriage when the time comes. His wife should be his equal in youth, beauty, charm, and fortune. After all, like deserves like, wouldn’t you agree?”
    Nodding automatically, I experienced the further embarrassment of realizing that Mrs. Smith, who didn’t understand the relationship between George and myself, assumed that I wished to engage him as a suitor. She was warning me off because I was too old, too plain, too awkward, and too poor for her son! Although I had never presumed to dream of marrying him, I burned with humiliation. How I wished I could tell her that the good fortune of Smith, Elder & Company owed much to a famous book, of which I was the author! Instead, I lifted my cup and swallowed coffee that tasted bitter as poison. I could not reveal my secret.
    “Mr. Smith has been most attentive to me,” I said instead, desiring his mother to know I had cause to believe he cared for me.
    Anger replaced the self-satisfaction on the face of Mrs. Smith; she gave me a mocking smile. “My dear George bestows his kindness upon everyone. Often, people misconstrue his motive as affection when he is merely giving sympathy to those who need it. And sometimes his business requires him to endure people outside his usual circle.”
    My heart contracted as if