Part 2 Lyme Regis #2
“Edward! Edward!” ’Twas the next morning and Edward’s mama stood in his chamber.
“I see you have started the visit to Lyme as you usually do—with a midnight swim.” Mrs. Knightley looked meaningfully at the damp traces of sand and the crumpled clothes on the floor beside her son’s bed.
“Please make an effort to tidy up, Edward dear, before you go downstairs. ’Tis not fair to expect the servants to do everything.
But did you have a refreshing time in the water?
Good. Now, we are off to promenade along the front this morning as the weather is kind, and I know Miss Fairfax has a lesson planned for the children concerning the creatures of the sea.
I hope you will join us later on the beach.
There is still breakfast laid out for you in the dining room, and I have asked the servants to make fresh coffee for you. ”
“Thank you, Mama.”
Once his mother had left the room, Edward rolled onto his side. He was soon fast asleep again and back in the middle of his wedding ceremony. When he lifted his bride’s veil, a sudden shaft of light pierced the stained glass of the chapel window—and he saw that his bride was Charlotte.
I only pray this could be my future! How happy I would be.
However, Edward remained deeply conscious of the sanctity of the solemn vow he had made to his papa years ago; how could this be broken? ’Twould take a higher power to intervene, surely?
Edward sighed and was lost in thought for some time. Then he began to reason as a young man in his twenties rather than as a child of but seven years, and all began to shift and transform in his mind.
Had Edward not been the apple of his father’s eye? Therefore, surely the former Duke of Somerset would not have wished his son to be forced into a marriage he did not welcome? Particularly when there was another person Edward loved so desperately.
Then, ’twas as if his papa spoke to him through the years, and with a voice of tender love and concern whispered, “My son—follow your heart.”
Edward sat up in bed, a joyful smile upon his lips, fully confident that after his dark night of the soul he had finally been released from his vow.
But I must consider Arabella’s feelings too. I will write to her immediately.
Although there was no formal engagement between them, nor ever had been, Edward felt honor bound to consult Lady Arabella.
By Jove, what if she harbored certain expectations of him?
And what if she had mentioned these hopes to others?
Her very reputation as a lady could be at stake—and Edward would not harm his childhood friend for all the world.
God willing, all will turn out for the best. But until I hear back from Arabella, ’tis imperative I continue to be distant and formal with Charlotte, as I was last night when we returned to Hawthorn Villa.
She is a woman of sense and perception—she will understand that I must make myself totally free to love her ere declaring myself.
Will she not?
Charlotte
The next morning
’Twas difficult to concentrate on the tiny creatures within the rock pool when one was suffering from lack of sleep and one’s mind was still on a moonlit beach with a divinely handsome half-naked man standing in front of one.
“Miss Fairfax!” George held up a crustacean. “Is this a crab?”
“Indeed, it is.”
Did Edward intend to kiss me last night? It would have felt so right. Why else would he have held his arms out to me if not to embrace me?
“Miss Fairfax! I found the home of a little creature who is sadly long gone.” Lydia showed Charlotte a swirly patterned object.
“Ah, Lydia, what a delicate coloring the shell has.”
Why did Edward change his mind? Why the silent march back to the house?
“May we take our objects home with us?” the children chorused.
Charlotte forced herself to concentrate. “Yes to the shell but no to the crab. Shall I help you find a shell, George? Don’t pout. There’s a dear.”
I think I will die if I don’t see Edward again soon. My whole being longs for him, despite his strange, frosty behavior.
“Edward! Edward!” George began jumping up and down. “He is here at last!”
Lydia waved her shell over her head. “Edward is talking to Mama and Papa. I know he will want to see our treasures. Edward! Edward?”
The duke appeared not to hear and continued conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Knightley before leaving abruptly.
’Tis me he does not wish to acknowledge. Oh, what have I done wrong that he cannot even be civil?
After returning to Hawthorn Villa the children retired for an afternoon nap, and Charlotte was free to do as she pleased for an hour.
Feeling in sore need of a cheerful and friendly face, she ran down to the kitchen.
Cook had been kind to Charlotte since she had started working for the Knightleys—maybe she would offer Charlotte a cup of tea?
But alas the Knightleys’ cook was busy helping the cook of Hawthorn Villa to prepare a trifle for this evening’s dessert and looked surprised to see Charlotte below stairs.
Never mind. Charlotte would go outside for a breath of fresh air. As she made for the side door, her attention was caught by the use of her name in a conversation; melting into the shadows, Charlotte listened to the discourse between two of the Knightleys’ maids.
“I like Miss Fairfax, the new governess, do you not?”
“Yes, exceedingly, and I certainly hope she lasts longer than her predecessor.”
“Yes,” replied the first maid. “’Twas very unfortunate what happened…”
Eavesdropping was a sin—Charlotte’s papa had always drummed that into her—so, as a consequence, Charlotte felt exceedingly guilty as she strained forward in an attempt to hear more clearly.
“…apparently she…and Mrs. Knightley was…”
“…straight away? With no reference? That does seem harsh…”
“…well, what would you expect? After all, the duke…”
The maids soon moved on to complete an errand for Mrs. Knightley, and Charlotte felt a deep pang of loneliness.
How pleasant it would have been to ask one or the other of them for their company on a walk.
Charlotte missed her friends in the Lake District keenly.
The events of last night had unsettled her, and she longed to share her experience with a sympathetic soul.
However, ’twas not to be, and she would have to make do with her own company—as was oft the case these days.
As Charlotte left the grounds of the villa alone, dark thoughts began to multiply in her mind.
Why had the last governess left in such a hurry?
Could someone in the household have treated her badly?
Charlotte took a sudden intake of breath.
The duke? Oh no! Was the duke a libertine?
A heartless rake? That might explain his strange behavior last night, blowing first hot then cold.
Did he think that because he was high born, he could treat women as objects and use them ill?
Charlotte recollected what little George had said back in Bath—that the duke was to marry Lady Arabella.
I dismissed this as a childish jest—but what if Edward is already betrothed?
Charlotte ran and ran along the beach until she was quite out of breath. What a fool she had been! The duke was doubtless already promised in marriage, and it seemed he had also toyed with the affections of the previous governess. How monstrous!
And I said I would like to go for a moonlit swim with him on another occasion!
He must think I am ripe for the plucking, a woman he can exploit, whereas the fact is that I love him most honorably and want to be his wife.
Ah me! I am in love with someone who is not worthy of my affections. This is my tragedy.
Charlotte gave a great cry of anguish, then reached into her bosom and allowed her fingers to find the little scrap of paper with Charlotte Somerset written thereupon.
She screwed the words that would now never come true into a ball and attempted to throw them into the sea—but the wind had other notions, and the paper twirled and flickered in the air, traveling hither and thither until it disappeared from view.
Charlotte hastened from the beach, tears streaming down her face. She must return to her duties for the children would be waking soon.
Edward
Moments before, Edward had been lying behind a huge rock on the beach attempting to complete the devilishly tricky task of writing to Arabella, when his attention had been caught by the sound of a cry of anguish.
Peering discreetly round the side of the boulder, he had witnessed all that had followed before Charlotte fled.
Then the tiny scrap of paper floated down from the sky, and Edward caught it in his grasp. What should he do next? Run after his love and return what she had discarded with such vehemence? But Charlotte’s manner had given no suggestion that she would welcome this service. Far from it!
Edward smoothed out the mysterious fragment and read Charlotte Somerset, then uttered a great exclamation of joy.
Why, I believe she must feel as I do, namely that we are destined to be bound together in holy matrimony.
But wait! Why would Charlotte throw away her prediction of future happiness in such a state of high distress? It made no sense.
Unless she no longer wishes to be my wife.
Perchance Charlotte believed the duke was to wed Arabella? Edward’s blood ran cold. ’Twas time for action. He quickly finished his letter to Arabella and hurried back to Hawthorn Villa, intending to speak to Mrs. Knightley forthwith.
I will say that I have been called back to Brancombe Abbey on urgent business—for in truth, there is nothing more urgent than sorting out this Gordian knot. And I must add a postscript to Arabella’s letter asking her to write back to me at Brancombe immediately.
Hopefully, Lady Arabella would be able to reassure him that she harbored no expectations of him—and Edward would be free to invite all his friends and neighbors over for an evening of celebration when his family and his darling Charlotte visited the Abbey on their way back to Bath.
I shall arrange a masked ball!
What could possibly go amiss?