Chapter Text
Chapter 12
Alexander rose with the sun the morning after his return. He needed to make rounds to check on the Battlesfords and on Mrs.Thompson and the baby. And today, he had an extra task.
He stared at the sky. As winter approached, the number of grey days was steadily overtaking the blue. Today, it was as if the entire south coast got chills and decided to wear a thick, grey, fleece blanket. There were no shadows to be found, so diffuse was the light.
“Do you think it will rain, girl?” he asked the lurcher, trotting beside him. Luna barked in reply.
He ran Hannibal up and down the flats with Luna nipping at their heels. It had always been his favourite way to clear his head. He would simply descend from the grasses and through the dunes to the flats and canter to the eastern end. Then, he would brace himself in the saddle, squeezing his legs with every ounce of his power, shorten the reins and give Hannibal a hiss and a kick. The gelding would run as if someone had shot at him, half a mile to the western edge. At seven years of age, Hannibal was not as fast as he once was, but the ride was still bracing and at top speed, Alexander had no choice but to focus his mind in the present, lest he end up with a face-full of sand or, worse yet, a broken shoulder, collarbone or ribs.
On this morning, as he barreled toward the western edge of the beach, a figure in a blue coat appeared from between the dunes. He would know that coat anywhere. He had watched it appear and fade on the horizon from his window more times than he could count. Luna barked and ran to meet Charlotte, who knelt immediately to offer ear scratches. He pulled back to a canter and circled around her before dismounting.
“Good Morning. This is an unexpected pleasure.”
“I thought you were going on rounds this morning.”
“I did. I wanted to give Hannibal a chance to open up his legs.” Holding onto the reins with one hand, he wrapped the other around her waist and bent to kiss her gently. With forehead pressed into hers, he said, “An unexpected pleasure, indeed.” They had both come to the beach for quiet contemplation and now they stood in quiet contemplation together, soaking in the presence of the other.
Charlotte put out her hand after she felt the drop on her head. In a mere seconds, the sky opened upon them with little warning. It did not announce itself with thunder or variations in clouds. It was simply as if the Gods decided that the blanket was wet and decided to wring it.
Alexander quickly mounted and offered her an arm. There was an urgency in his demeanour.
“It is fine, Alexander. It’s only a little rain.”
“No. It is chilly today. Come.” Charlotte took his arm and the offered stirrup and rose up behind him. “It is about three-quarters of a mile. Hold on.”
After ascending the cliff, they approached a small, rendered cottage with a clay-tile roof and small covered porch among a grove of gnarly trees. Quickly offering Charlotte an arm down, Alexander alighted and unbuckled the saddle to protect the leather from the rain. He tied Hannibal to the porch railing.
“It is locked,” Charlotte offered. Alexander immediately took the woollen saddle blanket and wrapped his hand, punching out a pane of glass in the window and releasing the latch. “I’ll be right back,” he said, before disappearing inside. He had the door open in moments. “My Lady,” he ushered her inside. “Take off those wet things. I will start a fire.”
Charlotte looked around. The cottage was dusty but not dank. The roof was not leaking. “What is this place?” she asked.
“It was a game keeper’s cottage from when my grandfather cared about such things.”
“How long has it been since someone lived here?”
“About thirty or fourty years, I would say.”
“Whoever built the roof did a fine job.”
“Indeed. It is one of the best reasons to use tile rather than thatch. More expensive up front, but unless it cracks, the tile practically lasts forever.“ He surveyed the room. There was a flint and old stacks of paper in a crate next to the fireplace, but no wood, and nothing outside would be dry at this point. With little thought, he decided to sacrifice the bench at the table and an old wooden and rattan chair. “Cover your ears.” He flipped the bench with a loud bang and used his booted foot to kick the legs from the bench.
“Alexander! What are you doing?” She had never seen him use such violence. Now he was breaking windows and benches!
“We need firewood.” He removed his green coat. “Here,” he prompted her for the second time and without emotion. “Take off your wet things and put this on.”
Puzzled by his cool demeanour, Charlotte nonetheless removed her wet clothing. She’d been planning to do so anyway. She was soaked through. Even her stays were dripping. The prospect of having a reason to remove her clothing in his presence thrilled her in a way that she thought perhaps it should not. She found she did not care. She started with her bonnet. “Well, this bonnet is ruined,” she noted.
“It is no matter,” Alexander said nonchalantly as he leaned what remained of the bench on the hearth and jumped with both feet to snap it in two. “You can afford a new one.” Charlotte took a moment to allow that fact to settle in her mind. She would never again need to worry about whether a new bonnet was a frivolous purchase. Alexander picked up some paper from the stack. “Well, you asked how long it had been since anyone was here.” He read from the paper in his hand. “‘Louis XVI executed in France. Anarchy Remains. Paris in Chaos.’ It is dated 29th of January, 1793.” He crumpled the paper along with about ten others and stacked them in the fireplace along with the pieces of the bench. The flint was not entirely cooperative, however, and he struggled while lighting the paper.
While she was waiting, Charlotte began unbuttoning her pelisse and hung it over the chair to dry. She did the same for her pinafore and dress. A hat rack stood in the corner. She removed her stays and hung them from one of the hooks. Standing in only her underdress, she put his beautiful green coat around her shoulders and turned her back. She slipped her underdress from her shoulders and allowed it to flow to the floor. The inside of the coat was lined with a soft wool that felt quite divine on her cool, damp skin and the smell of hay and horse and Alexander wafted from it as she buttoned it.
Alexander rubbed his hands in the nascent heat from the fire and stood to rest his palm on the mantle, watching the flames.
“Alexander?” Charlotte questioned his reserved behaviour, which was more reminiscent of her employer than her fiancé. “Is everything alright?”
He finally looked up at her. He did not answer her question. “Are you warm?” He rubbed his palms up and down her upper arms.
“Nearly.” She felt him in the same manner. “But you are not. Your hair is still dripping and your skin is cold and clammy. Take off your jacket and your shirt.”
“I am fine.”
“Alexander, I am not being forward. I am being practical. You were just as sick as I was and we all depend upon you being alive! Now, take off your shirt and hang it up to dry.” He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ll remind you again that I grew up on a farm and spend summers on the beach in Sanditon! I have seen shirtless men many times. Now, take it off so you do not catch a chill.” Her argument was quite rational, but he was not in a rational frame of mind. Nonetheless, he did as instructed, removing the garment and wringing it out. He then rubbed it through his hair to dry his dense brown mop and wrung it again. He walked to the hat rack and hung the shirt next to her stays. The lines of the feminine garment caught his attention and he gently ran his fingers down the boning, quietly imagining what it would be like to do the same when it was on her.
Something was definitely wrong. Charlotte was sure. He was standing in front of her, half naked. She was completely naked under his coat. Normally, they would have been struggling to contain themselves, but though he was physically present his mind seemed in some far distant land. Charlotte stepped up behind him and kissed him gently on the shoulder blade. “You are very handsome, Alexander.” She heard him sigh quietly. She ran her fingers delicately down the bones of his spine. Alexander made a hissing noise through his teeth that made her smile against his skin. She kissed her way to the opposite shoulder blade. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his stomach and nuzzled her head into his back. “I love you. Please tell me what’s wrong.” He spun in her arms and gracefully lifted her legs around him, setting her on the end of the table. Hands at her cheeks, Charlotte was expecting his passion to overcome his reserve, but instead Alexander kissed her with a reverence even beyond what he’d shown before. Delicate. Soft. Sweet.
“Charlotte, when I said that my feelings have only grown deeper, I meant it. I love you more today than I did yesterday. I love you more in this moment than when we walked through that door. I will love you more at dinner tonight than I do now.” He delicately brushed his lips against her cheek, inhaling the intoxicating combination of moisture, hair, and skin. “Sometimes, I feel as though you are the very air that I breathe.” He took a deep breath and shuddered upon exhalation. Then, he stood with his hands resting gently on her hips and his lips barely brushing her hairline. His skin broke into gooseflesh. Charlotte ran her fingers delicately from his shoulders to his wrists.
“You are still cold, my love. Where is the saddle blanket?”
“On the porch.”
“Go and sit by the fire. I will get it.” She moved to get down but he blocked her.
“Wait,” he said quietly.
“Yes?”
He slid his hands up her sides, pulling her to him under her arms with thumbs grazing her breasts. His lips met hers in a kiss more passionate but still achingly slow and reverent. It seemed to go on forever, his tongue haunted by an unspoken need. When he pulled back, Charlotte felt as though she had been transported to whatever world his mind was occupying. She let out a single chuckle of astonishment as she looked up at him and her teeth met her bottom lip. He looked upon her with eyes as reverent as his lips and finally smiled for the first time that day, though to Charlotte it looked shy and reticent. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Blanket?”
“Yes.” She hopped down and stepped onto the porch. The cool rain was still falling in a steady stream with no signs of relenting. Fog was setting in along the coast. She remembered that she had seen a kettle inside. Alexander had added more wood to the fire and was sitting on the floor in front with his arms resting on his raised knees. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m going to set the kettle in the rain. At least we can have warm liquid.” She kissed him on the head.
When she stepped back inside, she discreetly pulled her arms out of the sleeves of the coat and spun it so that it was backward. Then she walked to Alexander, spread apart his knees and planted herself on the floor in front of him. “Unbutton the coat so that we can wrap it around both of us.”
Alexander sat silently, contemplating whether or not to tell her “no.” In reality, he was quite chilly because he was still wearing wet britches and he was not taking them off. Sharing the coat was logical, given the situation. He took another deep breath to calm himself before acquiescing. He began the delicate dance of unfastening the large buttons, revealing the ivory, freckled skin beneath a torturous two or three inches at a time. He touched the bones of her neck and felt her breath hitch when he did. He ran a single fingertip down her spine, just as she had done to him. Then, he smoothly slid his right arm inside and around to her navel to pull her back to his chest, while using his left to ensure that the coat did not slide off. Again, he just sat with his arms around her, as if his continuing to live depended upon the contact of spine to sternum. A shiver overcame him and Charlotte felt it.
“Here,” she suggested as she spun the coat on its side so that the length might wrap both of them. Alexander slid a single arm through the armhole to hold it in place and Charlotte pulled her knees tightly to her chest underneath. When she did, her knee slid against some papers in his pocket. “What is in your pocket?”
“Damnit.”
“Alexander Colbourne! Did you just curse at your wife?”
“No! I am sorry. I was not cursing at you. I was cursing at myself for my carelessness. Those are your letters! Did they get wet?”
“I do not know,” she said as she slid them from the pocket and passed them to him over her shoulder. He released his right arm from the covering and tucked it under so that she would stay covered. With one arm in a sleeve and one bare, he began to unfold each letter, inspecting the ink for smearing and the paper for damage.
“Did you get to read them?” Charlotte asked.
“Not yet. I had intended to do so last night, but I was so tired from travelling that I fell asleep beside Leo when I tucked her in.” He came to the final letter, which was the closest to the surface in his pocket. The top layer of paper was completely soaked and the ink smeared, but it had acted as something of a sacrificial lamb for the others, saving them from the same fate. “Damnit,” he said again under his breath. “Will you tell me what it said?”
“That is the final one. You should read the others first.”
“Now?”
“Why not? It is not as though we’ve anything else to do.”
Alexander examined the dates and began reading silently to himself. “Why does it bother you when the staff calls you ma’am or mistress? It is what you are. I told them to do so before I left.”
“Yes, I’m aware. I tried to tell Mr. Charleson to call me Miss Heywood but he refused, saying you had ordered him otherwise.” She turned her head slightly to glance up at him. “It is not that it bothers me. I suppose I am simply not used to it.”
Alexander gave her a peck on the cheek. “Well, get used to it.” He continued reading. “Elegant rather than extravagant. I’m sure I will agree. I have never seen you look anything other than beautiful.”
Charlotte giggled. “We’ll see if you still say so when I am sixty-five.”
“That would make me seventy-three! Are you planning to make me stick around that long? Will you not be tired of me by then?”
“I shall never tire of you,” she said sweetly and in earnest. “I feel as though we could converse for a lifetime and never exhaust our topics of conversation. It is one of the reasons I wish to marry you.” She turned a bit to the side and snuggled into his shoulder. “And if we happen to deplete our supply of conversational topics, then we shall just sit like this, enjoying one another’s company in silence.”
“I love silence.”
“I know.”
“And I love you.”
“I know that, too.”
Alexander continued reading. He chuckled. “Even though I would give just about anything to have prevented Augusta from such a heartbreak, I must admit that having the Grand Lady of Sanditon feel as though she owes our family a debt is proving to be quite lucrative. What did Mrs. Wheatley say, when you told her?”
“Oh, she was quite disturbed initially. You know her. She practically had the entire event planned before we were even out of bed from illness.”
“I’ve a feeling she had it planned in her mind before we were even engaged. She knew I was in love with you before I did.” Charlotte smiled and nodded in agreement.
“It’s in my next letter, but we visited Sanditon House together. I spoke with Lady Denham and Mrs. Wheatley to the staff and it seems everything is in hand.”
Alexander folded the letter and set it aside. He seemed to read the next in its entirety before speaking. “You should know that Henry Battlesford had nothing but effusive praise for you when I visited him this morning. You’ve made quite the impression. I am so glad that you hired a wet nurse for them. It was very thoughtful and exactly the right thing to do, What is her name?”
“Anne. Anne Baker.”
“She and her son have moved in with the Battlesfords, it seems. I may be mistaken, but I got the impression that she and Henry may be…uhm… comforting one another in their grief.”
“Oh?”
“It worries me. He is more than twenty years her senior. I hope she is not feeling that she has no choice in the matter.”
“Did you get that impression?”
“I am not a good judge of such things.”
“Well, that may be true, but you are the finest of gentlemen for thinking of her.” She could not help but lean up and kiss him. She did so until she felt the urge to turn completely and face him. As much as she wished to, she knew it was not what he wanted, or rather that it was and therefore he would not appreciate it. “I will speak with her next time I visit.” She settled back into his shoulder. Alexander read the next letter. She heard him laughing.
“Did I write something funny?”
“No. You said that you hoped I found something lovely to amuse me, but instead, I had my arm fully engulfed in a cow’s vagina while Mr. Starling accused me of leaving you in a predicament that would force us to marry!” They both shook with laughter and then turned abruptly to the window when Hannibal seemed to be laughing with them. “What in the world? What is that horse doing?” Hannibal, it seemed, was tired of the rain and had pulled loose his tether and walked under the cover of the front porch. He stood at the broken window letting Alexander know of his discontent. Alexander stood and walked onto the porch. He pulled the animal forward and then backed him to the end of the porch so that he was completely covered and then tied him off again. Charlotte strained to hear him, listening intently over the now popping fire. “Sorry boy. I should have thought of putting you under here in the first place but I was worried about Charlotte. You understand, don’t you?” Hannibal knickered. “I know. You love her, too, don’t you?” Alexander retrieved an apple from the saddlebag and fed it to the animal.
Meanwhile, Charlotte had righted the green coat, quickly buttoning only a few buttons for modesty and now leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching intently. “For future reference, if you spoil our children the way you spoil that horse, we shall have a household of nothing but whining.” Alexander smiled shyly and looked at his feet. “And also, why are you feeding your horse and not your wife?”
An embarrassed but defensive Alexander retrieved another apple from his bag and walked toward her. “I was going to bring it to you, you know, if you would have waited inside like an obedient wife should.” He took a bite as he teased her with his eyes.
“Obedient! Alexander Colbourne!” Charlotte feigned offence and stomped to the saddlebags herself. “There are no more apples!”
“Of course not. I only brought two – one for me and one for him.” He laughed and held out the remainder of the apple to her, placing a sticky kiss on her forehead. “Enjoy the rest, My Love.”
Charlotte shook her head at him, pulled the collar of the coat up over her head and stepped momentarily back into the rain to retrieve the kettle. She handed it to Alexander and took a bite of the apple. He hung the kettle on the fire and turned to her.
“So, are you going to tell me what has put you in such a contemplative mood today?” She hoped that their conversations had helped him to feel comfortable enough to tell her. She took another bite of her apple as she waited, attempting to look like she was not going to take “no” for an answer without being overbearing. She watched his body immediately tense,
He closed his eyes, nodded, and said simply, “It is Lucy’s birthday today. And Abigail’s too, of course.”
Charlotte set her apple immediately on the table and walked the few steps to take his hands. “Xander, why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I did not want to bother you with it. You have enough happening with the wedding. And in all honesty, I was not expecting it to affect me so much this year. I felt as though I had forgiven her. Forgiven myself. My reaction has taken me a bit by surprise.”
“Help me,” Charlotte said rather suddenly, and motioned for him to lift the opposite end of the spindle-backed bench that served as seating in the small space. They moved it to face the fire and Charlotte sat at the far end. Alexander stood still, wondering what she was doing. “Come here,” she said as she retrieved the saddle blanket and sat at the farthest end. Though he felt somewhat childish in doing so, Alexander, so long alone, laid on the bench and placed his head in her lap. She put the blanket over him. The feeling of her fingers in his hair was so far beyond intoxicating, he could not have described it if he tried.
“I was at Ralph’s sister’s wedding when Mary arrived in Willingden to deliver the news of Sidney’s death. She was kind enough to travel and tell me in person, being the only one aware of what had actually happened between us. He had a widow, of course, and so I grieved him in private. When Mary invited me to return, with Alison, I thought I was ready and then I was suddenly in a place where everything reminded me of him – his portrait in the hallway, the beach where we played cricket, the cliff where he first kissed me.” She laughed. “The first cove outside of town where I was walking and, not knowing I was there, he simply popped from the waves wearing absolutely nothing!” Alexander turned to look up at her, eyes wide. She smiled and nodded in confirmation. He settled back into his previous position on his side, not wanting to be too long without the glorious sensation of her fingers in his hair. “I think what I am trying to say is that grief is a funny thing. You believe yourself to be past it and then, for whatever reason, one day you find yourself once again in its grip. And there is nothing wrong with that. The fact that it can still affect you in such a way shows your humanity.”
He was silent for a long time, an occasional shake in his shoulders the only sign of his weeping, for she could not feel his tears through the coat. She offered him the hand that was not in his hair and he grasped it for strength, pressing his lips to her palm. “I was feeling especially guilty today because I realised that I never truly loved her, now that I know how love actually feels. And she had to die for me to learn that. She had to die for us to meet. I stood at her grave and for the first time I did not feel sorry that she died. What kind of man does that make me, Charlotte?”
“A human one.”
They sat and listened to the rain on the roof and Hannibal’s occasional huffing and watched Luna’s legs twitch as she slept in front of the fire. When he seemed to have settled, Charlotte suggested, “We should take the girls to Lucy’s grave before dinner. It is the right thing to do, I think, to let them grieve in their own way and to support them if they need it.”
“Yes.” He agreed quietly. “Will you read me your last letter before we go?”
Charlotte leaned forward and partially out from under him to retrieve the letter from the floor and then settled in to reading. “Dearest Alexander, I cannot accept your apology because I already accepted it long ago.”
“You did?”
“I did.” She continued. Reading aloud was far more difficult than committing it to paper. “Has anyone ever told you that you speak with your eyes? The day that I visited Heyrick Park with Georgiana, you told me that the girls missed me, but I knew that you were speaking of yourself as well. Your eyes told me. You speak…”
“Why did you stop?”
“That is where it crosses the panel and becomes illegible. Let me see…” She knew what she had said but she scanned the smeared contents for hints of exactly how she had written it. “I believe I said that you also speak with your hands and that when our fingers touched at the recital, they told me of your regret.”
Alexander rolled onto his back and looked up at her, reaching up to brush her cheek. “How did I earn such luck, to have found someone who understands me better than I understand myself?”
“Love is not a static state. Working to understand is part of it.” She kissed her finger and placed it on his lips. He puckered in return.
“I love you more, again.”
Their two sets of gleaming eyes became so absorbed in one another that they both forgot to speak. Charlotte lazily wound her finger here and there on his face. She looked to the end of the letter to try to jog her memory. “You wrote in your letter about your heart coming and going with my arrival and departure. It was very sweet, Xander.”
“It is true.”
“Well, it was true for me as well. My heart swelled in the mornings when the house came into view and it became more and more difficult to leave it. I almost didn’t, after we retrieved Leo. But you did not come home and I had assured Mrs. Wheatley that all was well with you and Colonel Lennox. I was afraid that if I stayed she would know that I was concerned. By that time, I was already thinking of Heyrick Park as my home. Even before we kissed I thought that once Alison left for the summer I would request to live in as a full-time governess, so that I would not need to endure the coming and going. But then…”
“Then, you thought that you would have no need to ask.”
“Yes. And I know now what your intentions were, when you came to Trafalgar House. But I was so terribly sore, from Sidney and from you, that I denied you the opportunity to find your words. My letter concludes ‘I am sorry too, My Love; but let us be sorry no longer. We have a lifetime of love to come.” Her voice choked, but she swallowed and continued. “You are a gentleman of the finest quality, Alexander Colbourne, and I am proud to call you my husband. All My Love, Charlotte.’” Her tear fell down her own cheek and landed on his below her. He wiped it away and laid flat on his back, eyes closed, still and quiet. After a few moments, he began fiddling with his ring.
“Alexander, are you nervous?”
“No, why?”
“You usually fiddle with your ring when you're feeling uncertain about something.”
“I am uncertain of something.”
“Oh?”
“I am uncertain of my ability to continue to lay here and enjoy your presence without giving into the urge to devour you and be your husband here and now.”
Charlotte giggled. “Well, perhaps we should have that warm drink and then you can help me put my clothes back on, if that is acceptable to you.”
“That is acceptable to me.”
Fully warmed, fully clothed, and only slightly damp, Alexander once again lent her a stirrup to rise.
“Should I not ride in front if we are going into town?”
“We are not going into town.” He smiled. “We are going home.”
“I do not have a change of clothing, Alexander, and I cannot come to dinner at Heyrick dressed like this!”
“You do have a change of clothing. Several of them, actually.”
“Alexander,” she said suspiciously, “what did you do?”
“I don’t know, actually. All I did was pay the bill. Susan and Mary did the picking. I believe the bill said three day dresses, one for evening, and a collection of appropriate underclothing. Shall we go home?”
Charlotte squeezed him tightly and kissed him behind the ear. “Yes. Home.”
***
Leonora stood, holding Alexander’s hand. “Papa, why am I sad? I did not even know her.”
“Perhaps you are sad because you never got to.”
“Mama says it is fine to miss what I never had.”
“Well, as I told you yesterday, your mama is a very smart lady.”
“Do you think my mother would be glad that mama is here with us?”
“I do.”
“Me too.” Leo stepped forward and touched Lucy’s stone. “Good-bye, mother. I will visit again soon.” Alexander stepped forward and joined her.
“Papa?”
“Yes, Leo?”
“May I have a ride back to the house?”
Alexander smiled. Only a child could change moods so quickly without a thought or care. “Yes Leo.” He smiled and knelt for her to hop on his back and tucked his arms under her knees.
“Haya!” Leo shouted. Alexander reared back and jogged to catch Charlotte and Augusta, walking arm in arm to the House.
“I don’t know about the rider, but this horse is hungry for dinner!”
“Yes! Dinner!”
And the assembled family of Heyrick Park went together to eat.