Chapter XV
‘Let me know when Mr Thacker arrives, Brooke; he is a little late, and I want to be ready for him. He is taking me to see a new tenant today.’
‘Yes, madam.’
Charlotte was in her study. It was a warm June day, and she was keen to get out into the sunshine, but first, she must write to Lady Catherine, who had demanded an urgent reply – indeed, she accepted no other kind – regarding Charlotte’s plan for the summer.
Dear Lady Catherine,
I thank you for your kind invitation, and I would be very glad to accept, for some part of it. I am to stay with the Darcys in London for two weeks towards the end of the season, but I could come to stay at your pleasure, after that. I send on a message from—
‘I see Mr Thacker approaching, madam!’ said Brooke, poking her head through the door.
‘Thank you.’ Charlotte put her pen down and glanced through the study window as Brooke returned to her work. Yes, she could just make him out, far down the bottom of the drive.
Fetching her bonnet and her green spencer from the hook in the hall, she stood, pushed her shoes on and then stepped over the threshold.
She had determined to close the distance between them to save some time.
She had her eyes fixed on him now. He was on foot, leading his horse, which seemed strange; he should be in a hurry so as not to delay them further.
But then, a few steps from her front door, she slowed her pace, for she could perceive that it was not Thacker after all.
The man making his way towards her had a tanned, worn face like her steward, but he was younger, with brown hair instead of grey.
He walked with a slightly odd gait, heavy steps, but his eyes were looking squarely ahead.
He led beside him a brown horse with white feet, and he carried his jacket slung over one shoulder.
He did not alter his pace or his course but kept on marching, marching, steadily towards her, in a straight line.
As he got closer, and he could see her, he began to smile, broadly, but with tears in his eyes.
The joy she saw in his face as he looked at her answered any question she had. He was her colonel. And he was here.
Charlotte made a choice. She started to walk towards him. She dropped her bonnet, dropped her spencer, and walked faster, and then she was running down the drive, almost tripping because she would not look away for a second from the man in front of her, for fear he would disappear.
He stopped a few yards short of her, readying himself to catch her because she was not going to stop. She would never stop again. She ran, and she ran, and she leapt.