by Lily Holland
I glance at the landscape stretching out of the window and I sigh loudly. Charity… I haven’t been a good husband to her. I have tried and almost succeeded but I have never been as kind to her as I should have been. Her pretty face, amazing figure and her heartwarming smile, I can see now that they are all I might desire. Not Selina, never Selina again, she was only a dream that turned into a nightmare. Charity is my reality and she is much better than any dream. She is soft and kind and intelligent and passionate about many things. I could spend a lifetime talking only to her and never get tired of it.
I want to see her, now. I check the road again to guess how long it will take to reach home and I start getting impatient. I have been reckless, neglecting a woman like Charity only for the heartache of Selina’s refusal. I have been senseless beyond words.
I reach home and I make my way into the house. For the first time in a while, everything seems brighter, more real to me. I study the clock showing it will soon be time for tea and I get ready to talk to my wife about everything that is on my soul. She needs to hear it all, my doubts, my fears and my new found hopes, hopes founded in her.
“Mrs. Leigh,” I call on our maid, “could you please tell your mistress I will be taking tea with her in the parlour?”
Mrs. Leigh seems surprised but nods. As she’s about to turn away, she seems to remember something and looks back at me.
“Sorry my Lord but I don’t think Lady Feaston will be taking tea. She said she would be riding this evening.”
I frown and shake my head.
“It will soon be night, she won’t be riding at that hour surely.”
Mrs. Leigh is about to answer when Charity appears at the top of the stairs with a pair of trunks being carried by two manservants.
She glances at me and soon reroutes her eyes.
“Get them to the coach, please. Thank you.”
I want to speak but the two men disappear behind a door with their burden and I hear the rattle of hooves on the ground outside making me shiver.
Charity touches her hat to make sure it is safely pinned in place and she turns to me. She doesn’t smile and she doesn’t speak. Mrs. Leigh, sensing something might be off, bows quickly and disappears out of the hall.
“Are you going somewhere tonight?” I ask, trying to hide the hint of fear that is making my heart kick in my chest.
She nods.
“Yes.”
I hold back a grunt of disapproval at her insolent tone and shake my head.
“May I know where?”
“Does it interest you?”
I gasp at her words and my entire body tenses.
“Of course it does!” I say louder than I intended to. “You are my wife!”
“Your wife,” she repeats slowly. “Yes, I guess you are right. That is what the parson said, is it not?”
I look into her eyes and she looks into mine and none of us flinches. I see it staring right back at me, the result of my lack of affection, of my passion for another woman that isn’t my legitimate wife.
“Look, Charity, if I have been insensitive in any way, I—”
“I am going to my mother’s,” she says turning away from me and closing the last button of her riding coat. “I don’t know how long I will stay there, probably a few months.”
“A few months?!”
I want to shout and to scream but I’m self-conscious of making a scene knowing the servants are within earshot. She nods and keeps going.
“I have given to Mrs. Leigh the recipe of the strawberry cake I cooked last August and you liked. If I haven’t come back before summer, she will be able to make it for you.”
“Charity, wait, this isn’t right. You can’t leave like that!”
I grab her arm to make her stay and I look deep in her eyes. This determination, I’m certain I have never seen it in any woman’s gaze. I let go of her arm I feel I might be crushing in fear of seeing her walk away.
“I am going to my mother’s,” she repeats and she studies my face before walking to the door. “Don’t worry,” she adds with a feeble, weak smile that breaks my heart, “I know for a fact you won’t miss me.”
I open my mouth to talk but she turns her back on me and leaves the house in a hurried walk. I stand in the hall wondering if this is only a jest, a way for her to make me pay for my behavior but she doesn’t stop and she doesn’t come back.
I wait for a few minutes standing like a tree in the middle of the large hall but it isn’t as bright as it seemed to me a few minutes ago. I wait, and wait and the horses’ hooves clicking on the ground make me shiver. I walk to the door and get outside. It must be a jest, she only wanted to make me react, there is no way Charity might be leaving me that way for no reason!
I stand on the doorstep and feel my heart clenching in my chest as I observe the coach taking my wife away. It wasn’t some funny trick she tried to play on me, she really left. I observe her leaving and I remain outside until the shadow of the coach is out of sight.
She will come back, she has to. We are married, she can’t just leave. I head to my office and slam the door. Now what? I wait, I have nothing else to do.
I wait for an hour. If she meant to make me think on my faults, an hour was enough for me to consider. When she doesn’t turn up and it is soon time for supper, a dagger digs at my heart. I wait again and I have my meal in such a lonely and quiet time that I feel cold through my bones. Alone in the library, I get angry and mess up two letters before deciding I won’t be writing any today. When I head for bed, she still hasn’t come back and I am scared she won’t.
I wait for a day. A day is a good enough time to make someone reflect, it gives time to think. When Charity doesn’t appear on the doorstep the next day, I shake my head. She will probably be back after seven days. Seven days is a good length of time to make a point. A week away from me and she’ll come back, satisfied of having made her feelings clear.
But then, after fourteen days have passed and she is still nowhere to be seen, I get worried she might never come back at all. That is when I lose patience. Because, for the first time of my life, the most important thing to me is her. I want to see her, to hear her voice, to smell her perfume and see her smile and look at her reading…
I miss her so I’m about to ride to her myself and get her back whether she likes it or not. I don’t know what else to do. The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t want her to despise me. Her eyes on me as she left this house let me think she might and that is killing me. I don’t want her to hate me when I feel something I didn’t expect is blooming in my heart.
I had never been in love before meeting Selina Heathfield and I have associated the feeling of infatuation to the pain it has brought me. But right now, when I think about Charity, her fair hair, her bright blue eyes, her thin figure and small waist, I can’t help warmth from spreading inside my chest.
I think I might be falling in love with her, she has to come back. I have many things to ask her. I want to know what her favorite color is, I think it is blue but I’m not certain. I want her to tell me everything about her, about her life before we met, I want to know everything and not only because I am her husband. I want to know everything because I want to know her better than anyone, better than I know myself.
As the evening draws in, I decide to lock myself in my office and order not to be disturbed until I come out. I have a letter to write and I have to write it now. Finding the right words to convince my lovely wife to come home might take some hours.
Chapter 9
Charity
I sit in the parlour as I open the mail that got in for me.
“What is it?” wonders my mother.
I shrug.
“I don’t know.”
I look at the envelope and the seal leaves me with no doubt. I swallow at the sudden lump in my throat and unfold the letter.
‘My dear Charity, [it says]
I hope you are in good health and happy dispositions. I woul
d have loved to inquire about those two specific matters myself, but I have a feeling you might not receive me as cordially as my words.
I write to beg for your forgiveness. I know I haven’t been the most enjoyable companion since we have been married but again, you know the reasons. However, I can only admit my behavior has been of the most disputable.
I wish to talk to you, Charity. I would like you to come back home and allow me to share my views in the matter that concerns us. I feel we might have many subjects to discuss and I am quite certain you would be surprised of my positions.
I have a very hard time bearing your absence, I miss our time together and I beg you to consider meeting me soon. If after our conversation you feel you cannot remain by my sides, we will discuss the ways to live our lives separately but I conjure you to give me a chance to prove to you that it is not what I want.
Please come back to me, dear Charity.
Forever your faithful servant,
John’
I read and reread the letter at least ten times before I can start thinking again. I fold it and unfold it to read it again and my mother notices my agitation. She interrupts her embroidering and looks up to me.
“What is it, my love? You seem quite agitated by the content of this letter!”
I inhale a deep breath, shaking my head.
“Oh Mama, I don’t know what to do…”
I show her the letter and she sighs in her turn.
“Well, it only proves he cares about you my darling. Isn’t it your reason to be spending weeks here?”
I shake my head again and tears start filling my eyes. I regain control over myself and clear my throat.
“Not exactly Mama. I told him I was coming here for a few months but, honestly, I don’t know if I will ever go back.”
My mother stands up quickly and joins me on the settee.
“What do you mean, my darling?”
“Where to start?” I say sighing so deeply it empties my lungs.
In front of my obvious despair, my mother pats my hand gently and invites me to go on.
“You remember I told you he was in love with another woman before we got married? Well, he has never forgotten her. In fact, at the very moment when I thought it might have worked between us, we met her at a party and it has all gone havoc since that day.”
Once again, I feel my tears are threatening to burst out, but I do my best to remain strong.
“I don’t know what to do, Mama. He says he wants to see me and talk but I don’t think there is much to be said.”
I shrug and my mother inhales a sharp breath.
“I see. Who is the woman he is in love with?”
I close my eyes strongly to prevent the tears from spilling.
“Lady Selina Knightley, the former Miss Heathfield.”
“But she is happily married!” exclaims my mother. “And pregnant with her first child!”
I look up to find my mother’s face.
“She is?”
“Yes. People say she will only be satisfied if it is a boy but that he wishes for a little girl. They have never done a thing like the others, those Earls of Knightley.”
I nod but some tears fall down my cheeks and it’s only the beginning of something new.
“It’s just… I have tried my best, Mama. I have been supportive and nice and attentive, I have done all that could be done and… and… it was working! We were much closer already, talking endlessly and laughing together, but from the moment he saw her again, it was like I didn’t exist anymore, like I wasn’t standing right by his side and that the only thing in existence was this beautiful woman smiling and dancing.”
I pass my hand on my face to wipe off my tears and my mother takes my hand in his.
“Oh my darling, I am so very sorry. I know it must be hard for you, I can only imagine how you must feel, but he is your husband. You can’t run from him like this.”
“I know Mama,” I say with a nod, “but how can I be a wife to him if he is only my husband in name? I am tired of trying and tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt. Because it hurts, mother, it cuts deep to see him so enamored with a woman who doesn’t care about him and yet has ruined his life.”
“Oh my darling.”
My mother’s arms surround me and she holds me close as I weep on her shoulder and she tries to comfort me. She talks to me and says cajoling words but it is not enough. I want to believe John’s words preaching he wants to talk to me and I might be surprised by his ‘positions’, whatever that means.
Later, during tea that day, my mother speaks in a clear voice that is meant to be encouraging.
“He might be the one surprising you,” she says sipping at her hot cup of tea. “He says he wants to talk to you, I think you should go and see for yourself what he has to say. If you don’t agree to it, you will be free to come back here, you know this will always be your home.”
I nod but I still don’t know what I have to do. Yet, I see some sense in my mother’s proposition. If he wants to talk, then I might have to listen to him. Do I want to? Yes, I think I do but I am exposing myself to yet another heartache. I have my doubts and my reserves, but, against my better judgment, I decide to give it a try and hope for the best.
The next morning, I dress in my riding clothes and enter the coach to head back home, back to him.
I reach Mooreshire in the middle of the afternoon. I am tired. I haven’t slept last night and my heart is agitated by endless thoughts of conflict. What if what John has to say to me isn’t satisfactory? He is my husband, I am legally bound to him, to his name and his will. What if he wants to force me to remain here with me? Being the prisoner of his beautiful estate in order to save appearances? I don’t think he could do such a thing, he is a kind man, I know. He has never done anything to hurt me, and yet, he did in the worst possible way.
I twist my hands as I go down the coach. The mansion is the same as it has always looked like but the fallen leaves of the trees all around the ground is making it look like a painting. It could look gloomy if the sun wasn’t shining as brightly as it is right now. Instead of shadows and dull shades of fall, the dazzling yellows and orange of the trees are welcoming, warming almost.
I walk in and Mrs. Leigh welcomes me into the great hall. She gives direction for my trunks to be settled in my room and I attract her attention.
“Don’t get to unpacking them just yet,” I say quietly, observing the great room. “I don’t know how long I will stay.”
“Are you not back for good, madam?”
I review the forty-something woman’s face and shrug.
“I don’t know yet, I suppose it will depend on… many things.”
The maid doesn’t add anything but she understands the message. She nods and points at the parlour.
“Lord Feaston isn’t back yet, he had some business into town, but I will bring you some tea if you wish, madam.”
I nod and take the pin off my hat.
“Thank you.”
I settle in and John isn’t there to welcome me. It doesn’t please me at all. I had in mind that if what he was to tell me didn’t please me, I could turn back right away and go back without further delay. There is no need to pretend our union can be saved when it has been built on quicksand in the first place.
Around four, Cary, one of our stable boys, proceeds in the parlour with a look of unease on his face.
“Yes?”
He fiddles with the hem of his jacket before looking back at me shyly.
“Huh… Lord Feaston… He awaits you in the stables, Lady Feaston. He says I should summon you and that… huh… he will wait for a while.”
I frown, not sure to understand the boy’s words when I see him frowning in his turn. He probably got lost in his own commission. I smile.
“Lord Feaston wants me to come to the stables?”
The young boy nods quickly trying to hide his discomfort.
I smile again and thank him before sending him aw
ay.
I don’t give him an answer to offer my husband who doesn’t greet me back but finds it appropriate to summon me upon his arrival. I sigh as I stand up and follow the path to the stables. I came back to give him a chance to talk, I’m ready to compromise but answering his summoning is already a favor on my part.
The smell of horse welcomes me in the stables and the boy grooming Fabiola’s mane bows when he sees me. I greet him back and pat the mare’s silky nose.
“How is she doing?”
“Fair enough,” admits the boy, “she sprained one of her ankles the other day but she is recovering quickly.”
I nod.
“Take good care of her, she is Lord Feaston’s favorite.”
The boy nods again and I caress the horse’s cheek before moving forward. I walk forward and stop altogether.
“Charity.”
His voice makes a shiver go over me and heat merges in my belly. I have missed him so, I am pleased he is a few steps away. If his enthralling smell fills my nostrils, I might forget the conversation we are to have is of the most important.
“Good afternoon, John.”
Behind us, a few manservants work and I study them wonderingly. Being surrounded by our staff doesn’t call for a very private time.
“You wanted to see me,” I say and I know my voice is colder than my heart.
He nods and takes a step toward me. He moves his hand forward to take mine but he stops mid-move.
“If you are not too tired of your journey back, I would like for us to go for a ride.”
I study his face for a long moment and I frown.
“What do you mean?”
He points at two horses being saddled behind him.
“I have asked for them to be ready for a ride out. We wouldn’t be going far, only around the estate, but it would offer us an opportunity to talk.”
I bite at my lip and clench my fist. I know what he is trying to do, trying to soften me using the same excuse as when I obtained a picnic out of him.
