For the first time, I truly considered it. Living here in that tiny house of his, smiling and laughing, shopping in the village under a gray sky, eating fish and spending evenings playing whist with Clara and Lord Trowbridge, while Sophia ran about in her pretty dresses and twine tiaras. A fierce longing for that life came over me in waves. But all the while I saw the edges of my imagination barred in steel. There was more than this. How could I ever settle?
My eyes fell downward, and I noticed Clara shift in her seat. It was a subtle movement, but I saw a corner of a torn piece of parchment fall hidden beneath her skirts.
“What is that?” I pointed.
Her eyes flew open. “What?” She shifted again.
I reached across her and pulled what appeared to be an opened letter out from beneath her. “This.” I frowned when I saw the wax seal—our seal. “This is from Mama? Why did you try to conceal it?”
Her face fell. “Please stay, Charlotte! I know you won’t want to, but please.”
Hardly listening to her, I unfolded the letter and read, heart pounding with anticipation.
My daughters,
It has been four long months, and I presume that if you haven’t been engaged by now to Lord Trowbridge, you never will. Therefore, I took matters into my own hands. Mr. Bentford, my dear cousin, has finally opened his eyes and my schemes have met success. We are to be married! He offered for me not two days ago. He is growing richer by the day with his miraculous business investment and is gaining respect among society. I expect they should all overlook our past disgrace and accept us anew. Our good fortune does not end there. Two young men have moved into town, Mr. Webb and Mr. Morely. They both have inherited large estates in the country and Mr. Webb will soon obtain his father’s title. We invited them to dine with us and both were quite smitten by your portrait, Charlotte.
So, in light of these recent events, remaining in Craster will no longer be necessary. I have sent a coach to convey you home which should arrive promptly on the eighth, should the weather hold. I look forward to your arrival and our reunion.
Mama
The air seemed to have been drawn out of the room, and silence hung heavy. I stared at the letter until my eyes went out of focus. Mama was inviting me home. I read it again, just to be sure it was real. There the words were, right in front of me, plain and certain. My gaze shot to Clara. “Why would you keep this from me?” My heart thumped. “The eighth … that’s tomorrow.”
“Don’t go, Charlotte!” she cried. I hadn’t noticed the tear on her cheek.
I was quiet as my mind spun, trying to piece together the news I had just received. I had been so close to excusing the possibility of ever returning home, but now here it was, an invitation and a second chance. I would be a fool not to take it.
“I’m going.”
Her eyebrows tipped down and new tears wet her eyes. “Don’t make such a mistake! You are not thinking clearly. Please. Please stay!” She held my arm in an unrelenting grip, as if that alone could keep me here.
“No.” I was still in a daze, hardly believing what had just happened. A stroke of good fortune was as rare as a living flower in this dreary town.
“Charlotte, please! Don’t be so rash. Think of James!”
That made me stop, and made my heart quake a little. But I set my jaw and made my decision. How could four short months be enough to reverse the beliefs I had upheld for years? I shook my head clear and tucked my heart away where I couldn’t find it. I pulled my arm away from Clara’s grasp.
“Please help me pack my trunk.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, biting back muffled sobs. “No, Charlotte! Don’t do this. Don’t do this.”
I looked away, standing up and walking to the staircase, numb and determined. This was what I wanted. This was what I wanted. My feet stomped on the wood, creating a rhythm for the chant in my head. This was what I wanted. Wasn’t it?
I could still hear Clara on the main floor—the soft whimpers and sniffling. I stood in my doorway for a moment, wondering why she cared so much. The thought of leaving had been so impossible, and the news that I could leave had been so sudden that I hadn’t stopped to consider how it would affect everyone here, including myself. Clara could still be happy. She was marrying the man she loved. She would live in a beautiful home and never work another day of her life. She would have Thomas, Sophia, Mrs. Abbot, Rachel, and Lucy. And I would have Mama and perhaps this Mr. Webb, and a beautiful home of my own.
As I considered this, I was struck with the realization of all the things I wouldn’t have. Clara, the Abbots, James. James. My heart pinched at the thought.
Trying to distract myself, I hurried to my trunk and began packing my things. And as if to remind me of an important thing I had forgotten, my hand stood out pale against the crimson gown I packed away. Mama didn’t know about the injury. I had chosen not to tell her, but I had nearly forgotten about it myself. Everyone here didn’t seem to notice it. But what would Mama think? I tried to reassure myself, packing with renewed energy. All would be well. She had always cared about me. Nothing could change that. And even if she did despise it, I could conceal it in my glove and find a suitable match, and then all would be well. I tried my hardest to smile as I worked, but every time James crept into my thoughts, I found my smile wiped away.
Would I ever come back to this place after I left? How could I, if I knew James would be here? I cursed fate for making him so poor, yet so easy to love. My chest constricted with the ache of knowing the last time I would see him was the previous night. He couldn’t know. I would leave without bidding farewell to him. It would be easier that way for both of us.
I didn’t know for certain if he cared for me at all, or if everything he had done and said was just a result of his much too kind heart, but I couldn’t help but wonder what me leaving this place would do to him. Was anything worth breaking such a heart? I thought of the woman he loved before and guilt jolted through me as I realized that if he did care for me, I was just like her.
When my trunk was full, I placed my thickest gloves on top of it. The sky outside was dark, and my eyelids were growing heavy. The things I felt now would pass. I would forget everything about the past four months and remember the way life was before I met James Wortham. And if I was capable of forgetting him, then surely he could forget me. His heart would heal and so would mine. Tomorrow I would leave Craster at last.
z
Clara was gone most of the following day, and she had hardly spoken to me that morning. I had positioned my small trunk by our front door. I waited, trying not to think or feel, watching out the window as fat snowflakes spiraled in slow motion from the sky. As always, I counted them as they fell.
Hours passed, and still no carriage arrived. I was afraid to step outside, knowing the possibility of seeing the Abbots, or James, was very real. While I hoped the carriage would arrive soon, I also wanted to bid Clara a proper farewell before I left. She usually returned home at this time, but there seemed to be a delay.
I grew impatient, trapped within the walls of stone and wood and distorted glass. I shivered, and tightened my cloak around my shoulders. Where was Clara? Although she didn’t approve of my decision to leave, I needed her here, if only for the company. I didn’t know how much longer I could bear to be alone with my variable and indecisive thoughts. Taking a deep, quaking breath, I pushed the door open and stepped outside, dragging my trunk behind me. I breathed the fresh, chilling air, and walked down the steps to where I could see the sky.
Flakes of snow landed in my hair, in the strands that hung in drab chunks on my shoulders. I stared at the sky. I never thought I’d miss the color. I wondered if I would ever see the same shade again. The thought made me sad.
I don’t know how long I stood there, breathing the cold air that smelled faintly of fish and salty seawater, but when I closed my eyes I was hoping, against my will, that I would never forget that smell.
Feeling a sense of release, I turn
ed, prepared to retreat back to my perch in the doorway, but something caught my eye and set my heart racing.
There, passing the nearest snow-blanketed tree—walking straight toward me, was James.
In an instant I turned away and turned back again, caught between being weak and being strong, staying or hiding. What was he doing here? I had strengthened my barriers, reminded myself of my goals and dreams, and how close I was to finally achieving them. But all that resolve had already begun to fall apart at the sight of him. James was moving fast, and soon he would be here beside me, too close and too safe, and I would fall apart.
I begged myself to relax. My legs were already shaking, and my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My rules were disassembled in my head. But they were no use to me now, so I just crossed my arms over my chest to keep myself from bending and breaking any more for him.
James was only a few paces away now. He stopped, an abrupt change, and I tried not to look too closely at his eyes—at all the things I knew would unravel me. I raised my eyes to his face, trying to appear as if nothing were wrong. But the sight of him then, the raw emotion in his expression, told me he already knew. There would be no more pretending. No more lies.
We both just stood there, not speaking, as snow fell all around us—softly, slowly, a barrier between us that I wished were stronger. He knew I was leaving. He would try to stop me, but I couldn’t let him. I tightened my grip on my heart.
“How did you know?” I asked. My voice shook and I looked away.
He drew closer, careful and slow. “Your sister told me.”
Of course. Didn’t she know I had already made my decision? That seeing James would only bring unnecessary pain to both of us?
“Don’t assume you can make me stay,” I blurted. “The carriage will be here soon.”
“I never assumed that. I have learned that no one can make you do something you don’t want to do.” He took a deep breath, and his eyes searched my face. “But the reason I’m here, is because I’m not sure you want to leave.”
I bit my lip against the sudden tears that stung my eyes. “Yes, I do.” My voice was quiet and uncertain, and I hated the sound.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
My eyes snapped up to his face, and I regretted looking the moment I did. A broken heart was reflected there, in every line, every inch, and it tore me apart to see it. Then he came closer. His head tipped down to look at mine, and I wasn’t capable of looking away this time. His eyes bore into mine, begging, soft and fragile. James had never been fragile. That had always been me.
“Please, Charlotte,” he whispered. Nothing could have been a sweeter, crueler sound than his voice speaking my name, Charlotte.
Everything that had been holding me together, every defense, every bar and tightly knotted thread was coming undone. James had some power over me. He always seemed to pull out the weak and broken things from inside me and make me feel things I didn’t want to feel and hope for things I shouldn’t. Every thought, every reason I was leaving came pouring out in anger and wrenching heartache.
“I have to leave!” I cried. “Nothing can keep me here! Do you know how long I have waited for this? My mother wants me to come home! She didn’t banish me here forever! I will go home and finally accomplish everything I have worked for my entire life!” My voice sounded unfamiliar to my own ears, broken by emotion and stifled sobs. “I w-won’t fall short again, and I won’t disappoint her! This is my l-last chance to please her and secure the future I have always wanted!” I breathed and swiped my cheeks. “It is my last chance to show her I can be the d-daughter she wants and then maybe she’ll love me.”
James reached out and cupped one side of my face with his hand. My body shuddered with another sob, and I was too weak to push him away. My tears fell hot down my cheeks and his hand.
His eyes looked into mine, firm and gentle at once. “Charlotte, that isn’t love! Approval of meeting expectations isn’t love. You deserve more. You have undertaken too much and you have become too much. You are kind and generous and thoughtful, utterly maddening at times, and selfless. Don’t let her change that. You deserve to be loved for those things, nothing less.”
I stepped back, away from the warmth of him and I shivered. “You know nothing of love.” I shook my head. “It is pain and suffering. A weakness. What has it done to you? It has done nothing but break and destroy and hurt. Why should I aspire to that?”
He was quiet for several moments, watching me without an answer. Finally he said, “You’re wrong. Love only does those things when you push it away.” He looked down at me, and a thousand things I didn’t understand were written on his face. “So don’t.”
I stared back at him, at the snowflakes on his shoulders and his hair, and the raw heartache in his eyes. How easy it would be to say yes, to be wrapped in his arms and never leave. I didn’t know it would be this hard. My heart beat fast, like wings learning to fly, trying desperately to escape my chest and land safely in his hands.
“No. No!” I stepped even farther away and wrapped my arms around myself. “I need more than that.”
“You think you need wealth and prestige to be happy? Don’t make such a mistake. Those things won’t last.”
“And love will? How can you say that, James? How after all Mary did to you?”
That silenced him. He stepped back, rubbing his face and then he drew a ragged breath. “Because she never loved me. Not really. If she did, she would never have made the choice she did.”
“That cannot be true.” My voice was hard and cold. “Perhaps she was just stronger than her heart. She needed more.”
“More than me?” James’s eyes were framed in betrayal and sorrow. When he spoke I wished I hadn’t been forced to hear the sound—all shattered fragments of the voice I knew. “And is that what you need too? Is that what you want?”
I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t a fair question. He didn’t know the truth and I could never let him know it. If he knew I loved him, then he would never let me leave. He was still standing several steps away, and I shivered in the cold. I kept my lips pressed tight as quiet tears ran down my cheeks and fell from my chin, not willing to answer him. I didn’t know my answer. And I had lied to him too much already.
“Charlotte,” he ran his hand over his hair. “Please stay. You will learn how to be happy. You will learn how to love.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “I can’t.”
I looked up at him and immediately wished I hadn’t. His cheeks were streaked with tears of his own. His voice trembled. “Don’t do this to me again.” He didn’t have to explain what he meant for me to know. I was Mary. “I thought I loved her, Charlotte. But I know now that can’t be true. Because I no longer care. I have moved on, I have recovered. But if you leave … I shall never recover. My heart will never forget you. I’ll never stop loving you. I didn’t say these things to her, but I’m saying them now, to you. I’m begging you to stay.”
My heart pounded fast. It was too much—everything he was offering me. I ached with longing everywhere, but there was danger in the unknown. It would haunt me forever. Not knowing what I was abandoning by staying here. Not knowing the life I could have had. I closed my eyes and I could see it. My dreams, my pursuits and ambitions, approval and happiness. Never had I been so conflicted.
I searched my mind for any reason that his declaration could be false. “How can that be true? If you loved me, then why did you leave me so abruptly at the Abbots’? Why did you act as if I—as if I disgusted you? You told me. You said you couldn’t love. Not again.” I was shaking my head.
James gave an exasperated sigh. “I was afraid. I have seen so much heartache, so much pain and suffering at the hands of love. I was afraid of what you were doing to my heart, Charlotte.” His eyes met mine, careful. “You were stealing more and more of my heart, day after day, but I knew how much you hated me. I knew that I was not worthy in your eyes. I knew, too well, how acutely you wou
ld come to hate me for what I caused to happen to your hand.”
“James! Please don’t. It is not your fault.” I pleaded with my eyes. “I don’t hate you. I never will.” A fresh tear slid down my cheek and my chin trembled.
“But you don’t love me.” His voice was final, a statement begging to be contradicted. His eyes pulled at mine, as if he were waiting for an answer.
There was nothing I could say. He couldn’t know the truth. Not this time. I did love him. I knew it with a deeply embedded certainty that scratched all the way through my heart. The thought crossed my mind again—the question of staying or leaving. No. No. My decision had been made. I couldn’t let James reverse that decision! I couldn’t let something as fickle as love change that decision.
The pain stung me anew, and a fresh wave of sobbing choked me and I turned away from him. “I-I’m leaving! You can’t change my mind! I’ll just f-forget everything! I’ll forget the village and the gray skies and the s-sea and this house. I’ll forget the Abbots and their kindness and their pianoforte. I’ll forget my lost fingers and lost music. I’ll forget everything I’ve lost and everything I’ll never have again.” I was choking now. “I’ll forget the p-pain and suffering and sorrow! And eventually I believe I can even forget you.”
There was a brief lapse of time, a moment of indecision, before James moved. One step and one breath before he was there, my face in his hands, and he was kissing me.
There was nothing I could do to stop it. My left hand clutched his jacket, pulling him close, and my other hand rested at his neck, his hair, a broken hand that he didn’t mind at all. His kiss was all desperation and heart, a warmth that reached to my bones, begging me for something I couldn’t give. I tasted the salt of tears on his lips, mine or his, I couldn’t tell. My legs were shaking beneath me and I trembled in his arms.
I knew this needed to stop. Now. It was wrong, it wasn’t fair. And then his lips slowed, his kisses so gentle my heart broke all over again, and he pulled away, just far enough that I could see his eyes and the tears that shone there.
Lies and Letters Page 23
