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“A letter for you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte looked up from the cloth doll she was mending for her youngest sister at the letter in her father’s hand, tilting her head so she might read the neat script. “That is Mary’s handwriting,” she said, pleased.
“It is nice of Mrs. Parker to continue to write,” her father said as he set the letter on the table next to the sewing basket. “However, given the circumstances, I wonder if you should continue the acquaintance.”
“Papa!” she gasped, startled by the suggestion. “The Parkers are very dear friends of mine. And of Alison as well, I might add.”
“Yes, they have been very kind to you and your sister,” he agreed. He spoke his next words slowly, as though giving them careful consideration. “Your mother and I have not been blind to Mrs. Parker’s letters' effect on you when they arrive, Charlotte.”
Pinching the needle tightly between her fingers, she focused on the last few stitches. “Is it not perfectly normal to miss those I care about and spent so much time with? They are as dear to me as you, Mama, and my brothers and sisters are. Why does it surprise you that her letters, and those from Georgiana, would remind me of how much I miss them?”
He stroked his beard for a long moment. “I know your heart is set on returning for your friend’s birthday party in the autumn, but it might be best if you reconsidered. Alison will be married in a week and then leave us for Ireland. You had your adventure, Charlotte. It is time you settled down as well.”
Her spine stiffened as she tied the final knot, but she managed to force a smile as she handed the precious toy to her sister. The little girl hugged her quickly before skipping from the room. Slowly placing the needle and thread and back into her mending basket, she picked up the letter and stood.
“I think I’ll take a walk. Please tell Mama that I won’t be long.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her father open his mouth to speak, but she continued walking, defiantly refusing to listen to anything else he might have said. His belief that she should forget her time in Sanditon was simply unacceptable. Her attachment to the small town had been swift and strong, and she could not imagine turning her back on her friends simply because of the circumstances that had led to her sudden departure.
She waited until she was deep in the orchard amongst the heavily laden apple trees before she broke the seal on the paper, anxious to hear the news it contained. She treasured every letter she received from Mary and Georgiana. To her, they had become tenuous tethers, not so much a binding that prevented her from escaping her past but rather a lifeline that kept her forever moored to the place where a piece of her heart still lay.
Like in her previous letters, Mary diligently provided a detailed account of everything that had occurred since her last letter only two weeks before. Smiling to herself, Charlotte could easily imagine every outing with the children, the latest conflict between Tom and Lady Denham, and Arthur’s elaborate plans for Georgiana’s birthday celebration. It was not until the very end of the letter that the smile slipped from her lips.
Mr. Colbourne, his daughter, and his niece have taken a house in Bath….
The words were so incomprehensible that she had to read them a second and a third time before she could even comprehend them.
Bath? What in heaven’s name was he doing in Bath, of all places? The same man who had purposefully shut himself and his daughter and niece away for years, avoiding Society at all costs, had taken the first opportunity after so suddenly sending her away to remove himself and the girls to Bath?
Charlotte fumed, pacing back and forth beneath the trees. Her foot struck a small fruit that had fallen to the ground much too early, likely knocked loose during a recent storm only to become a treat for some lucky rabbit. Muttering, she picked the apple up and threw it as far as she could, irrationally wishing it to be as far from her as possible.
Oh, that frustrating man!
A few months ago, the very idea of him doing such a thing would have been utterly incomprehensible. Such a decision was a drastic leap for the recluse she’d first met in the spring, one she would not have believed possible if anyone had suggested it to her. There had been a time when she would have been delighted to learn that he’d committed himself to such an endeavor…and more than a little proud if she was being completely honest.
Abruptly, she halted her pacing, her thoughts spinning. He would not even dance with his own niece in the privacy of his drawing room, and now he was going to spend the summer in Bath?! Surely, he knew he could not escape Society in such a place!
Oh, what she would have once given to have been there to witness such a momentous announcement! She and the girls would have sat around the schoolroom table for hours, excitedly discussing the new places they would visit and things they would do. She would have taken the opportunity to teach Leo about the ancient Roman temple and the baths that had given the town its name. They would have discussed the rebuilding of Bath Abbey and the royal charter granted by Elizabeth I. She would have helped Augusta choose silk for new dresses, inspecting pattern books and the latest fashion magazines as they debated which designs would suit her best. There would have been endless dancing practices and great speculation about the elegant ladies and handsome young gentlemen she was certain to meet.
Had they taken a house in one of the more fashionable areas? One where elegant townhouses lined streets filled with people on their way to call on friends and neighbors. The girls were far more outgoing than he was and were sure to have already made numerous friends. No doubt they were even now walking to the shops or the park. Indeed, they most likely would have already visited the Theatre Royal, the Grand Pump Room, and the assembly rooms.
Of course, he would have to escort Augusta to parties and balls, fulfilling his obligation as her guardian. In doing so, it was all but guaranteed that he would become a highly valued prospect himself, the wealthy widower undoubtedly in need of a new wife. She could just imagine the mothers and daughters eyeing him with great interest, whispering behind raised fans and glasses of champagne as they speculated on what type of woman would tempt the desirable and handsome Mr. Alexander Colbourne.
How would he react? Would he shy away from those who pursued him, or would he welcome the attention, having had a fleeting taste of what it was like to hold a woman in his arms once more? Would he entertain the idea of marrying again after so many years spent blaming himself for Lucy’s death? Would some rich, beautiful, intelligent woman prove far too tempting for him to resist?
The very thought twisted her stomach, giving rise to a searing burst of jealousy. A powerful wave of emotions welled inside her, and she hastily braced herself against a tree, pressing her hands firmly against the rough bark, lest she succumb completely. Closing her eyes, she allowed the whisper of a breeze across her cheeks to pull her back from the brink. She had already spent too many tears on Alexander Colbourne and was determined not to shed any more.
For one shining night, she had allowed herself to fall for the illusion that they could be happy together. Against all odds, she had thought she had found love again, that he might love her in return. How long had she remained awake in bed that night? Had she even slept at all? The memory of his lips on hers had been far too exhilarating to allow anything so trivial as sleep to interrupt the delicious feelings that continued to warm her hours later.
When he kissed her again the following morning, she had thought he was overwhelmed with a passion for her he could not deny. The way he had looked at her, pulled her to him, touched her hand with such promise in his eyes…her heart had soared with happiness! She had been confident that her future had finally been revealed, that here was the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with…only for it to all fall apart a day later.
I’m here to ask you….
The words echoed in her brain, tormenting her once again. She could hear the regret in his voice, see the pleading in his eyes, all those things she had ignored in the heat of the moment when her pain and anger had been too much to bear. What had he meant to ask her before she’d interrupted him, knowing she would be unable to endure it if he dared to ask her to return as the girls’ governess? The question had haunted her almost since the moment he had left Trafalgar House. Now, she would never know the question that had been about to pass his lips.
Letting loose a frustrated growl, she flopped onto her back, her eyes fixed on the cloudless sky above her. How had she gone from only just realizing how much her heart had opened to this enigmatic man and that there could possibly be a future for them together to feeling utterly destroyed when he stood there and lied to her, telling her it had all been a terrible mistake?
It hardly mattered now that she felt confident she knew why he had done it. Once her initial anger had calmed from raging storm to a light but steady rain, she spent hours ruminating on their last conversation, dissecting every look and word spoken, desperately trying to find an explanation for his sudden change in behavior. In the end, there had only been one logical explanation. Yet, understanding had done little to ease the hurt she still felt at having been treated with such disregard. It frustrated her that part of her wished never to see the man again, while another wanted nothing more than to march into his study and demand an explanation and an apology.
And then there was the small part that could not forget how he'd looked at her that night as they'd danced....
Sighing, she threw an arm over her eyes, the sun too bright for her dark mood, and willed herself to return to a state of calmness. Allowing the rustle of leaves to wash over her, the tangled knot of emotions slowly eased into something more manageable. Any further contemplation of Alexander Colbourne would only lead to frustration, and she was determined not to give him any more consideration. She regretted so much about those last days in Sanditon, and regrets would get her nowhere.
Perhaps her father was right, and she should admit to herself once and for all that she should simply accept the life she’d been raised to have. Twice now she had attempted another life, and twice it had ended disastrously. Perhaps her dreams of marrying for love and seeing more of the world outside her little village had always been destined to be nothing more than childish fantasy. She had been content in Willingden before, surrounded by her family and friends. Surely, she could be content again.
“Charlotte!”
Alison's voice carried across the orchard with remarkable clarity and volume, breaking her from what would have likely been an hour of lengthy supposition. She was well-skilled in making her desires and opinions known when she wanted something, and with her wedding fast approaching, she always wanted something.
Rising, Charlotte brushed off her skirts and tucked the letter into her pocket. Denying Alison would do about as much good as continuing to dwell upon Alexander Colbourne. Both were efforts of futility that would only result in further frustration. Squaring her shoulders, she began the walk back to the house. It was time to move on, past those days by the sea, towards the future she'd once been content with. Surely, she could be just as happy in Willingden as she could have been in Sanditon.