Chapter Text
Alexander was not yet back.
And still, his family awaited him in the drawing room.
Pacing before the hearth fire, Samuel swept a hand over his mouth and ignored the glass of port that had been readied for him on the table. He didn’t need a drink; he needed answers.
His fiancée sat on the chaise lounge, a cup of tea in hand and looking for all the world unbothered by the recent turn of events. She conversed easily with the indomitable Mrs. Wheatley who leafed through the Sanditon Gazette with a faint smile, perusing the latest from society. Were it not for their shared looks and an occasional drop in conversation - as if listening for the sound of a returning charger - none other than himself would have known anything was amiss.
Augusta and Leonora were tucked away in the window seat, the smallest Colbourne perched on her cousin’s lap and a copy of Northanger Abbey abandoned in the floor. They stared down the gravel roadway, their whispered chatter interspersing the quiet. Even they were surprisingly calm about the situation. His one reliable ally the very picture of ease.
Betrayed by an eight-year-old, he groused.
“Samuel, dearest.”
“This is a fine scene my lady.”
Susan peered at him over the rim of her teacup, long lashes sweeping up at him. “You’re going to wear a footpath in front of the mantlepiece if you continue.”
He stopped, hands forward as if addressing the court. “How are you all so calm?” he demanded, a good-natured exasperation belying his anxiety.
Mrs. Wheatley flicked the page. “Practice,” she allowed.
“Practice.”
“Girls are better at waiting.” Leo pulled at the high-neck collar of her day dress. The little blue gown was the least offensive to her tastes, but she had insisted. Wishing to be prepared to greet her former governess should Miss Heywood return - as fervently hoped for - with her father.
Augusta turned from the window, her first bit of spark since the failed elopement. “What are our lives but an endless waiting? You can hardly blame us, Uncle, if we are far better at something you have not been forced to practice since birth.”
His hands dropped. “The defence rests,” he admitted.
Susan shook her head. “You are uncharacteristically worried, dearest heart.”
“It has been over half an hour.”
“Which may tell us any number of outcomes.”
“I’m a lawyer, my love. I cannot afford to rest on assumptions.”
“Then allow me.” Susan rested her cup in its saucer and rose to cradle his cheek, her thumb lightly tracing the outline of his dimple. “First and foremost, your brother has succeeded.”
Samuel placed a hand over her own.
She smiled. “And, even now, they are on their way back to Heyrick. They are simply meandering this fine, autumn afternoon and enjoying their first firm acknowledgement as lovers after so many months of hurt and separation. Falling in love is a beastly business, and I imagine Alexander has not stopped apologising long enough for our Charlotte to do anything more than bloom under his ardent attentions. After everything endured, they deserve this time to themselves.”
“What of the second?” he sighed.
“Alexander has missed the carriage, entirely.”
He grimaced. “Thank you.”
She grinned at his obvious distress. “He has missed the carriage and is tearing over field and farm to reach her before she is beyond the turnpike and the limits of his own horse.”
“What if he does not?”
Susan pressed her lips to his own, lingering for a heady moment.
Samuel closed his eyes, the reassurance that strengthened herself soothing every concern and steadying his nerves to wait indefinitely. He swallowed as his body responded to the adoration in her lovely touch. Every muscle and ligament relaxed in her presence, and he wondered - not for the first time - how in God’s name had he ever existed without this beautifully remarkable woman?
“You know, as well as I do, that your brother will not rest until she is firmly and forever within the safety of his arms. If need be, Alexander will come storming through the foyer and order the carriage readied for an impromptu trip to Ireland before the day is half through.” Her smile widened. “Now that Charlotte is free to love as her heart desires, he has every hope.”
“They are here!” Leo scrambled from the window seat, even as her father and the woman she prayed would soon be her mother rode into view. “Papa! Papa!” she cried aloud, streaking from the room with Augusta close at her heels.
Mrs. Wheatley followed; her paper forgotten.
Threading their fingers together, Samuel kissed his lady love roundly on the mouth and ran with her to join the others outside. “Welcome back,” he called out. “We had quite despaired of you.”
Charlotte raised a hand to greet them, but his brother was otherwise occupied. One hand grasped the reins with a confidence only he could demonstrate in the saddle; his other tightening about her waist to draw her further into his chest. Placing a slow and sweet kiss on her temple, Alexander grinned like a madman as they drew closer to the front entry.
Samuel chuckled.
Somewhere along the way, Charlotte had lost her bonnet and his brother was missing one, very fine cravat. But neither seemed overly concerned with their lack of formality, having dismissed the need for appearances while they meandered no doubt. In truth, the lady kicked her heels in the air with something of a girlish delight, no worse for wear as they laughed.
His nieces waved wildly at the young couple; Leonora wound tighter than a jumping bean in her excitement. The little girl bounced from toe to toe, giggling with sheer joy.
Xander reigned Hannibal and dismounted, reaching for Charlotte, as he helped her slide from the saddle to meet him. If she lingered a bit too long in her descent, his brother standing a hairsbreadth closer than propriety should allow, who was he to judge? Susan might laugh at such restraint when compared to themselves; whereas he might wish his younger brother nothing but short preparations for the wedding and an exceedingly long honeymoon.
Charlotte blushed, as Xander nuzzled her cheek.
Catching his own bride-to-be’s lovely smirk, Samuel watched as she raised three, surreptitious fingers in his direction. Three weeks at the most. An unspoken wager, he was heartily prepared to lose.
Samuel grinned and winked. There would be no banns read when a licence was just as easily purchased and if Charlotte wished for spring or even summer nuptials… Well, this might be the one time Alexander was inclined to disappoint her in favour of his own impatient sanity.
“You’re back!”
And Leo was upon them, barrelling into Charlotte and burying her face in her stomach with a childlike determination that refuses to let go. Her little boots toed the gravel as Mrs. Wheatley placed a hand to her throat at the sight. “Welcome home, Miss Heywood,” she managed with some composure.
Augusta was hardly any better, her long arms wrapping around Charlotte and voice breaking. “You must promise to never leave us,” she whispered fiercely. “Not again.”
Charlotte held them both, as if she would sooner walk through hellfire than let either go. “Never,” she promised. Her dark lashes lay in wet points against her cheek, but she merely looked to her betrothed and smiled, leading them all back inside. His Susan followed arm-in-arm with Mrs. Wheatley.
“So,” he hedged. “I take it the lady has accepted you?”
“She loves me, Samuel.” His brother turned to him with something akin to reverence, watching their girls disappear into the warmth of the foyer. “She loves me.”
He gripped his shoulder. “Then all is well.”
Xander clasped his arm in return. “Thank you,” he managed, throat working. “What would I have done were it not for you?”
“Oh, come now.”
“Would you consider extending your stay?”
Samuel shifted a bit, unaccustomed to such gratitude. He had failed his brother so many times in their past that it hardly seemed fair for his absolution to come with an invitation to something more. But God help him, how he wanted the opportunity. “I might be persuaded. We all know Susan would love the chance to meddle in your wedding preparations.”
“And what of your own?”
“Less than elaborate and more to our taste.”
Laughter drifted through the open windows to greet them, decidedly feminine and more than a fair temptation to both gentlemen. “We are to marry,” Xander finally offered, “and to women far our superior.” His voice was quiet in the interims between a glimpse of his beloved by the windowsill and their own conversation.
Samuel grinned. “In every way,” he readily agreed. “I fear we must accept the fact we’re to be far happier in this life than either of us deserves.”
Xander smiled and shook his head, a lightness to himself that Samuel had not seen since their childhood. Dark and embittered thought it might have been. “All the more reason to thank God and not waste another moment.” He gestured for him to lead forward. “Let us go in.”
Stride for stride, the brothers entered into Heyrick and with every intention of holding fast to this promise. That of their family and a life well-lived.