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“BE CAREFUL PLEASE LEO!” Alexander heard Augusta call out sharply as he rounded the corner of the house.
He gazed out across the landscape to witness Leo picking herself up with an awkward stumble and then a shake of her skirts. He could see the fabric, at least the bottom half as she shook it away from her body almost up to her knees in height, discoloured with the moisture from the wet grass darkening the hue. He scoffed to himself as he heard a laugh from his daughter permeate the air as she surely spotted a lizard or butterfly to chase. Her wonderment of nature was an infectious joy.
He strolled casually… happily towards where Augusta was sitting on the swing. The movement caught in her periphery.
“Skirts are totally impracticable for that child when she chooses to spend her time roaming the wilds of the estate,” Augusta sighed with an amusing tinge of parental authority when he reached her.
“She has outgrown her britches,” Alexander offered, succinctly, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, wrapped in ivy. “When Charlotte returns, I will discuss the merits of perhaps a new pair for her.”
Augusta gave a small chuckle. “I doubt there will be much discussion involved, Uncle.”
He grinned back. “Perhaps not.”
She held up the paper. “I was just reading her letter again. The one from today’s post,” she smiled.
“Yes, I received one also,” he smiled back. “I will send the carriage the day after tomorrow for her return.”
“She sounds like she misses us,” Augusta offered, deciding to see what reaction her comment elicits from his face.
He no longer hides his joy, “Then I would say that the sentiment is a shared one.”
“Yes,” she nods.
“I am glad you did not chase this one away,” he adds with an air of… amusement.
Augusta frowns and tips her head to one side before adding an impertinent roll of her eyes, something she has perfected.
“I…” she began, before deciding to share the blame, and she looked back out in the distance towards her young cousin, “we didn’t necessarily…” then she stopped again, took a deeper breath, and with sharper eyes, changed verbal direction, “but really if we are going to discuss chasing Charlotte away…”
He had the wherewithal to appear contrite because indeed it had been he, after all the worst the girls could have possibly done to ‘chase her away’ that he was the one to actually succeed… albeit, thankfully, only for a short period of time.
Well short as far as the calendar was concerned.
In his heart, if felt like half a lifetime – more.
He could not chide Augusta for the comment, considering the one he had made prior was equally obtuse.
“Touché.” He merely offered, with a raised eyebrow.
She was suddenly regretful… his countenance had changed with just that one suggestion that he was at fault for the loss they had felt. He was at fault as far as she was concerned, but she had resolved when Charlotte returned to their lives not to dwell on it. Now she had thrown it unceremoniously in his face.
“Uncle… I… forgive my impertinence. That was an unpleasant thing to say,” she stumbled, as she watched her fingers twist in her lap, the letter drifting to the grass at her feet.
Alexander stepped forward and gathered the page and held it out to her. Her apology surprised him. Perhaps she was growing up? She looked up at him, and then to the letter.
“No, I courted the comment with my own. You are not at fault for your summation of the situation. We are indeed blessed that the situation eventually righted itself.”
She nodded wordlessly and took the letter from him, folding it back along the creases Charlotte had pressed into the page and wedged it between the timber of the swing and the curve of her thigh. She drew herself backward on her toes before lifting her feet and allowing the momentum to set the swing in a gentle motion.
“How… how did you know Uncle?”
“Know?” he questioned, having returned to his lean against the tree.
“That Charlotte… was it the same with Aunt Lucy?” she quizzed, now returning her gaze to him.
He gave her a tight smile and sighed, now understanding her question. He lifted his left foot from the ground and pressed the sole of his boot into the ivy leaves. “No… it was… different.”
She tipped her head to the side again, but her face held an expression of genuine curiosity. A question of how it… love… life… all worked.
He looked at his niece, realising she was now at the age when he had courted his late wife. How had Augusta grown up so quickly? But really, she was not grown up. Still really a child, still finding her way, just like Lucy and he had been. At an age where they thought they knew everything, but really knew very little… nothing at all really, about life as it came to pass. He was determined that she would not be forced into making the same mistakes that the generation before her had. But unless she knew of them… how would she understand what she was navigating? You cannot steer a boat without a rudder or ship without a sail to guide it through the perilous waters…
Augusta was still watching him. Noting the expressions on his face change like seasons through the sky. Wordlessly shifting… looking for something to anchor to. He breathed deeply inward through his mouth and then exhaled… softly… reverently.
“Your Aunt Lucy and I…” he paused, wanting to find the right words. Speaking too plain of the truth was speaking ill of the dead. Of the maternal grandparents, long since gone. It was just the way things were. In many cases still were. Augusta would eventually understand that his and Charlotte’s views on what made the base of a good marriage were not necessarily those of society at large.
‘…then society is wrong…’
He smiled remembering her words. Perhaps that is when, looking back now with a level of hindsight, she had captured his heart. He just did not register it, not fully. Not past the curiosity of this woman who has marched in and wanted to tame the girls and just happened to tame him in the process. To bring the wounded lion, having spent too many years hiding in the darkness of his cage, out into the light to see that the entire world was not to be feared. Society was wrong regarding so many things.
He began again, realising he had lost himself in his thoughts and could see that Augusta still waiting patiently – an improvement in her past composure – for him to continue.
“Your Aunt Lucy and I, it was not necessarily a match we had chosen for ourselves. It was a match that our parents had deemed suitable for us, through their mutual acquaintance, not our own. We did as was expected of us, but indeed, I believe… I think we both believed, in the end, it was doomed from the beginning.”
A frown appeared across Augusta’s brow, her young mind trying to understand… trying to resolve her own childhood memories with this statement.
“But Mother and Father…” she began, the frown lines still set firmly in place.
“Oh… your parents… now that was a love match,” he smiled warmly at the memory of his sister-in-law and her husband on their wedding day and many occasions after. “They were most definitely devoted to each other. It was fortuitous that they found each other and err… were allowed the ability to marry.” He chose not to add the extenuating circumstances of their young age and the necessity for a prompt union under the eyes of the church, and society at large.
The frown dissipated slightly at this news. Augusta had always seen her parents happy almost embarrassingly tactile as she grew older and this was a memory of them she held fondly.
It was not something that her memory could conjure of her Uncle or Aunt.
“Aunt Lucy spent a great deal of time in London… at our house,” Augusta offered from her memories this she knew to be true.
“Yes… she… preferred the life society offered her in London. As I said, the acquaintance was brokered throughout families. In truth we had very little in common,” he replied with a shrug.
“You do miss her, though? Don’t you Uncle?”
The question hung in the air. How to answer and not appear to be heartless. Augusta remembered her Aunt fondly; he would not destroy those memories with his own.
“I miss what might have been,” he offered, knowing that was the best answer he could provide. “But then Charlotte came into our lives…”
The frown across his niece's face disappeared with this confession to her ears and a smile graced her lips.
“And with Charlotte, it is a choice of your own making,” she supplied, which was met with a shy smile and nod from her Uncle.
“Yes,” he offered on an outward breath, although really he felt she was making a statement rather than posing a question to be answered. He chose to answer it anyway, to ensure it was unequivocal.
“It makes me happy to think, soon, she shall be here all the time. For when… when I need an opinion,” she offered apprehensively. It wasn’t often she felt confident enough to voice that she truly feel as if she require help in navigating the world around her.
“I am more than willing to offer you my opinion on matters, Augusta,” he replied, feeling slightly bothered to be perambulated in favour of his bride-to-be so stridently.
“On which ribbon I should choose for my hair to suit my choice of dress? Or other… womanly matters?” she quizzed with a mischievous eye-roll.
Alexander looked down; his face pinked slightly at the mention of ‘womanly matters’ as he tried to regain his composure before addressing her again.
When their eyes finally met after the few seconds had passed, he noted the way her cheeks were trying to hold in a laugh at his composure – or lack thereof. He gave her a slight head shake, before adding his own smile. Yes, she saw straight through him. He could see Charlotte’s influence right in front of his eyes. He drew himself back to her statement.
“The thought… that she will be here as my counsel as well… it keeps me happy too, actually,” he offered simply, if not wistfully.
“What might have been…” Augusta added as if reading his thoughts.
He nodded, turning away, “Yes.”
“But we are here now, and she will return to us soon,” she added cheerfully.
“Yes, return to Sanditon and a few short weeks thereafter we will travel to her home village for our wedding, and then she will be with us forever more,” he replied, as he pushed himself away from the tree as he noted Leo running towards them from the distance.
Augusta followed his gaze with a smirk as she watched her cousin advance to their position.
“I am more than happy if you wish to attempt to advise me on hair ribbons, Uncle,” she remarked cheekily, shaking her head as the child approached. “I doubt Leo will be interested in such matters for some time.”
“I think I will leave such matters in Charlotte’s expert hands,” he chuckled.
“Look what found!” Leo exclaimed excitedly holding out a lidded tin punctured with holes, waiting for someone to request a peek.
“What have you found?” Alexander asked carefully, not moving forward to engage any lid lifting until he knew what was hidden within.
“A baby lizard,” she exclaimed with wide, excited eyes.
“Eww… and just look at your skirts,” Augusta laughed. “Whatever would Charlotte say if she could see you right now?”
“She would say,” Leo began earnestly, “that I should be wearing britches if I am to go exploring.”
Alexander laughed as he wrapped his arm across her shoulders, “I do believe you are correct in that summation, Leo. When Charlotte returns we will get that matter sorted.”
“Really, Father?” Leo questioned.
He looked at both of their happy, relaxed faces.
This was Charlottes doing, she had saved them all. He smiled and considered that this was what made a family, this was truly love.
“Yes, Leo… whatever makes you happy… makes me happy too.”
And he could hardly wait for the next chapter of their lives – together – to begin.