by Bree Wolf
He cleared his throat. “If it is your wish,” he began, feeling slightly at odds about the way he spoke to her again after all this time, “we shall be friends again, but only friends.”
He waited and, after a moment, Abigail nodded.
“As such,” Nathanial continued, his thoughts once more straying to Charlaine, “we wish each other well. We are each free to search for a new love, for fulfillment and happiness.”
Again, Nathanial waited, and again, Abigail nodded.
“I also believe that it would be right for you to apologize to Zach,” he said, still feeling a slight twinge at the memory of what had happened. “For giving away our father’s ring.”
Abigail nodded most vehemently. “I assure you I will. I am most sorry for what I have done, and I only hope that, one day, he will be able to forgive me as well.”
Nathanial nodded, suddenly feeling lighter than he had before. Indeed, facing one’s past—as painful and tormenting as it was—was also freeing. He was a new man now, one no longer tied to the demons of his past. It was time to move on and, finally, Nathanial felt ready to do so.
Inevitably, his thoughts were drawn to Charlaine and the warmth she bestowed on everyone around her, including him. Oh, how he missed her! She had been his friend only a short while, but after not seeing her this past day, Nathanial already longed to return to her side. If only they, too, could be friends again! If only she would look at him again with those dark eyes of hers and smile!
Perhaps he ought to speak to her.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps he could win her friendship back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
We Are Who We Are…Or Aren’t We?
A sennight had passed since Nathanial had left without a word.
Would he ever come back? That was the question first and foremost on Charlaine’s mind when she woke, when she went to bed and all the moments in-between. Her thoughts were distant, no longer focused on the here and now, but constantly replaying the moment at the lake, the moment Nathanial had kissed her, but also the moment he had turned away.
Remembering his regret over what had happened unerringly drew her thoughts to the letter he had left in his chamber.
And to Abigail.
Picking up her pace, Charlaine strode through the meadow, cutting a wide circle around the lake, unable to bear even a glimpse at it. Temperatures had dropped, and she pulled her shawl around her shoulders, casting a wary glance up at the gray skies. The wind tugged on her hair, swirling it around her face, and she wondered at the sudden changes that seemed to find her so frequently.
Abigail had come to England to see Nathanial. At this very moment, she was at Pembroke Hall with him, for Charlaine had no doubt that was where he had gone in such a hurry. He still loved her, did he not? She had broken his heart, and yet, the moment she called, the moment there was a sliver of hope to reclaim her, Nathanial had left.
Charlaine’s feet stilled and she turned into the wind, allowing it to brush the hair from her face. What would she do now?
Clearly, whatever Nathanial might have felt for her did not hold a candle to what he still felt for Abigail. That was clear now, and Charlaine knew that she needed to make her peace with it and move on.
Anger and disappointment had claimed her whole the first few days after Nathanial had left. She had cursed and yelled, charging on horseback across the meadow until her limbs felt so weary she was certain they would fall off.
Still, it had been the right thing to do for it had calmed the anguish in her heart. With her body exhausted, she had been able to think more clearly and look at everything in a nonemotional way.
The truth was that Nathanial loved Abigail. He always had, and it seemed he always would. And now that Abigail had finally realized what she had so carelessly given up, the promise of a happy future rose before them.
But what about me? A small voice whispered from deep inside.
“You promised to be his friend,” Charlaine told herself as well as the wind as it tugged on her curls, its gentle touch like a caress upon her cheek. “And he promised you the same. He never lied about Abigail or what she meant to him. He never promised you more than friendship.” She sighed. “But then he left without a word.”
With a heavy heart, Charlaine turned away from the far horizon and slowly made her way back toward the house. The chilling air eased the throbbing in her head and soothed the pain in her heart. Still, a dull ache remained, for despite her most rational reasoning, Charlaine knew that although Nathanial had never promised her more than friendship, he had still stolen her heart.
Unwittingly.
And it seemed she would have a hard time getting it back.
*
With a last glance at the half-finished letter upon the desk, Nathanial moved toward the window and watched the rain come pouring down like a torrent, the sky a dark gray smudge hanging over the world. Wind whipped through the gardens, shaking the trees and pushing against the tall hedges, bending them to its will.
He had meant to be off countless times. And yet, every day, he found a reason to stay. Or rather, a reason not to leave. Was this awful weather a bad omen? Nathanial almost scoffed at the mere thought. Never had he believed in such things. It was not an omen that held him back, but rather an icy lump settling in his belly.
What if he returned to Markham Hall? Would Charlaine send him away? What if he could not find the words to explain himself, to apologize? Would he ruin everything by hastening back?
For days, Nathanial had mulled over these thoughts again and again, not reaching a satisfying conclusion. It seemed there was no right or wrong, and no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to predict the outcome of his actions. Would his hesitation be his undoing in the end? Would she believe him indifferent and unappreciative of her friendship?
Nathanial heaved a deep sigh. What was he to do?
Footsteps echoed to his ears then, small and delicate, but moving fast, moving with excitement. A moment later, the door to his brother’s study flew open. “Is it not wonderful?” Abigail exclaimed, joy resonating in every word as she moved to his side, her gaze fixed on the rain hitting the windowpane. “It is magnificent!”
Gazing down at her, Nathanial watched as she drew in a slow breath, her eyes wide and eager as she continued to stare out the window. A smile teased its way up onto his face. “Then go,” he told her. “No one is stopping you.”
Her head swung around, her wide, blue eyes finding his. “No one?” she asked dumbfounded, her gaze whispering of disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Nathanial shrugged, then turned his gaze back out the window, that smile still on his face.
Facing him more directly, Abigail watched him, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I cannot believe you’re saying this,” she exclaimed, her voice still ringing with incredulity. “You’ve always been so proper, intent on doing everything just right, never daring to step outside of what is appropriate.” She turned her back to the window, her eyes settling more fully upon his face. “You’ve changed,” she whispered, her gaze growing thoughtful. “You’re different somehow.” She glanced over her shoulder at the pouring rain. “And now, you’re urging me to go outside in the rain?”
Nathanial met her gaze. “Don’t you want to?”
“Of course, I do!”
“Then what’s stopping y—?”
Her arms crossed over her chest. “You never supported my silly fancies as my father called them,” she told him with a huff. “You too thought them silly and childish and—”
“You’re right,” Nathanial interrupted her. “I’ve changed. Now, do you want to go outside?” His gaze held hers, and yet, he did not see her.
For a precious little moment, he saw Charlaine. He saw her exuberant smile and those dark eyes of hers, more often than not lit up with a wicked gleam. Always had she swept him along, not giving him a chance to think things through. More than once, he had tumbled head-first into something he
would never have considered had he had time to think on it.
Charlaine, however, had never given him that time, and she had been right not to do so.
“Are you saying you want to come along?” Abigail asked, her jaw dropping in a way that made Nathanial realize he had never known her true self.
Grinning, he grasped her hand, then turned around and pulled her along. They went down the corridor, their steps rushed, eager, impatient, guiding them to the drawing room. There, Nathanial stopped in front of the large French doors and pulled them open.
The sound of pouring rain filled the room, almost deafening to their ears.
“You’re insane,” Abigail gasped as she watched him kick off his shoes, laughter drifting from her lips, her eyes lighting up with something utterly indescribable.
Bending down to pull of his socks, Nathanial looked up at her. “Well?”
Her chest rose and fell once, twice as her wide, blue eyes continued to stare at him. Then she threw her head back and laughed before rushing to rid herself of her own footwear.
Nathanial held out his hand to her. “Ready?”
Grinning, Abigail nodded. “I cannot believe we’re doing this,” she mumbled, then slid her hand into his.
A moment later, they stepped out into the rain together.
Nathanial felt its drumming force upon his head and shoulders, his clothes soaking through within moments. Abigail screamed in delight, her shoulders slightly hunched as she took step after step, tentative at first. Then, however, all restraint fell from her and she began to twirl in a circle, her arms spread as she tilted her face toward the sky, her eyes closed in bliss.
Staring at her, Nathanial felt his thoughts travel back to the night of the masquerade. Once again, he saw Charlaine and remembered his own hesitant step out into a world that had always seemed utterly foreign to him.
But it did no longer. He felt free now, free to do as he pleased, free to admit to himself what he wanted, free to grant it to others.
Looking at Abigail, Nathanial remembered their childhood days.
When they had still been friends.
Long before his proposal.
Long before life had pushed them down a pre-determined path.
And in that moment, as he stared at Abigail in the rain, the look upon her face speaking of a joy he had never before seen in her, Nathanial thought that perhaps Abigail had been right to rebel.
Perhaps she had been right to break free.
Perhaps in doing so, she had saved him from a life he had never realized he did not want.
Chapter Forty
Letters
Charlaine’s hands shook as her feet carried her up the stairs toward her chamber. Her heart beat faster than it had in a fortnight and, for a frightening second, she worried that she might faint. Now, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
Fortunately, though, she made it to her chamber without a hitch, closing the door behind her with a sigh of relief. A few more steps brought her to the armchair in the corner, and Charlaine let herself fall into its lush upholstery, her eyes fixed on the letter in her hands.
It was from Nathanial.
After a fortnight of silence, he had finally written to her.
A part of Charlaine could not help but be angry with him, tempted to toss it unopened into the flames dancing in the grate. At least, now that autumn had a tight grip on England, it was easier to dispose of unwanted communications.
But was it unwanted?
In truth, Charlaine itched to open it, to find out what had possessed Nathanial to run off without a word. Still, she dreaded reading of his happy reunion with Abigail, and so she simply sat there, staring at the letter for a good long while as the minutes ticked by.
“Oh, don’t be a coward!” Charlaine finally scolded herself, her fingers moving to open the letter. “For better or for worse.”
An unsteady breath made it past her lips as she unfolded the parchment, her eyes seeking the words written upon it.
Dearest Charlaine,
Before I say anything else, I want to assure you that this is not the first letter I’ve written to you since my rather cowardly departure from Markham Hall. Many more lie crumpled at my feet, tossed aside as words eluded me. Try as I might, I could not put down what needed to be said. Everything sounded wrong somehow, and before I knew it, days had passed and I found myself still staring at an empty piece of parchment.
Charlaine could not deny that his honest words warmed her heart for she knew him to be a man who tended to overthink everything before moving forward a single step. That hesitancy was his greatest enemy, but at least now he knew it.
Now, however, I’ve decided to simply sit down and write whatever comes to mind without thought for eloquent words. Perhaps it will allow me to finally finish this letter and send it to you.
Charlaine, I’m truly sorry for what happened at the lake. I never meant to hurt you, and I know that I did. I saw it in your eyes, and I hate myself for snapping at you the way I did.
You’ve only ever been my friend, and I repaid you in a most callous way. I admit that the thought of losing you from my life breaks my heart, and it was that fear that made me run. I need you, and I feared to have lost your friendship. I could not bear the thought of having you look at me with regret and disappointment.
And so I left.
It was cowardly, I know. I ought to have stayed and faced your disappointment, given you the chance to yell at me after our disagreement. Can you forgive me? I pray that you can because I miss you. I miss you terribly. Life is no longer the same without you, and I hope that I have not lost you for good.
Please write to me, and if you so desire, I will return and let you yell at me for as long as you wish!
Your friend,
Nathanial
Sighing, Charlaine sat back, her gaze moving from the letter in her lap. “He didn’t write a word about Abigail,” she whispered to the empty room. “Not a word. What does that mean?”
As her mind ran rampant, her gaze once more dropped to the letter, following the lines he had written without thought. Indeed, Nathanial had not mentioned Abigail at all. He had not spoken of his love for his former fiancée or referenced their happy reunion in any way.
What he had written about was their encounter at the lake. Our disagreement, he had called it. He had spoken of friendship with ardent words, expressing without doubt how much she meant to him. Still, he had called her his friend.
Nothing more.
Was this the answer she had sought?
*
“Ah! There you are.”
Looking up from the papers upon the desk, Nathanial found Abigail poking her head around the door. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Stepping inside, she approached him, a letter in her hand. “This came for you. I told Gusford I would deliver it to you without delay.” She grinned. “He is a rather serious man, is he not?”
Nathanial tensed, his eyes fixed on the letter. “I believe in these parts it is considered a requirement in a butler.” Pushing to his feet, he rounded the desk, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he reached for the envelope. Had Zach written to him? Or…?
Dimly, he noticed Abigail’s laughter cease as her eyes settled upon his face. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
Nathanial swallowed, then took the letter from her hand, turning it to read the words written on the front.
Instantly, his heart slammed against his ribcage: Charlaine!
Striding away to the window, Nathanial ripped open the envelope with jerky movements, impatience urging him on. The parchment almost slipped from his fingers in his haste to know what she had written.
Dearest Nathanial,
Always have we been frank with one another and so I will continue down that path and tell you with all honesty that your rushed departure from Markham Hall made me very angry. I walked around for days contemplating all manners of appropriate punishments for your callous behavior as you calle
d it.
You hurt me because I, too, thought I had lost you when you left without a word. Don’t ever do that again, do you hear? As your friend, I will never turn from you simply because you snap at me. Yes, I will most likely snap back, but I will not leave you. How could you think I would?
I do wish you would come back, not to yell at you, but to see you again. I, too, miss you terribly. Still, I would not wish for you to return out of obligation, but because you, too, desire it. If life at Pembroke Hall keeps you busy, stay. See to your affairs, and if ever you feel like walking through the grass barefoot again, you’ll know where to find me.
Your friend always,
Charlaine
All air rushed from Nathanial’s lungs in relief as his eyes fell from the last word, his lids closing to cherish the words he had read. “I did not lose her,” he mumbled as an image of Charlaine rose in his mind. With arms crossed, she stood before him, brows raised in annoyance as she shook her head at him, chiding him for ever thinking she would abandon him. Had she not made him a promise?
“Who is she?”
At the sound of Abigail’s voice, Nathanial flinched, then slowly turned. He had all but forgotten her presence.
Her face looked tense as her gaze moved from the letter in his hands to meet his eyes. “Have you found a new love?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.
Yes! “No,” Nathanial replied, overwhelmed by the contradicting emotions tugging on his heart. “I found a friend.” Looking down at the letter, he gently brushed his right thumb over Charlaine’s name, wishing with every fiber of his being that she was here.
“A friend?” Abigail shifted from one foot onto the other, curiosity coming to her gaze. “How so?”
Nathanial swallowed, remembering the dark place he had found himself in when first arriving in England. A dark place Abigail’s rejection had banished him to. “She…she was there when I needed someone,” he told her with a pointed look. “I was…angry…” His lips thinned, and he shrugged, now barely able to recall the exact emotion that had been such a constant at the time. “She helped me live again.” Was that not the essence of what she had done for him?
