Chapter Thirteen #2
Through the sitting room window, she could see the autumn sunshine gilding Alverton’s formal gardens – the carefully tended roses that William’s mother had planted, the geometric paths that spoke of generations of careful stewardship.
“What exactly are you proposing?” she asked finally, turning back to her brother. “You cannot simply march up to Sir Geoffrey and demand explanations.”
“Can’t I?” Edmund’s smile held a hint of their father’s authority. “I am Viscount Parrington, heir to the Earl of Westbridge. My interest in my sister’s welfare is entirely natural.”
“And entirely unwelcome, if it damages William’s position.” Charlotte’s voice caught on her husband’s name. “Edmund, you cannot understand what it means to him – the constant weight of responsibility, the fear that one misstep might undo all he’s accomplished.”
“Perhaps not,” Edmund admitted, moving to join her at the window. “But I understand what it means to watch someone you love suffer, and be unable to help. As you do now.”
The gentle observation struck home with devastating accuracy.
Charlotte pressed one hand against the cool glass, struggling to maintain her composure.
“He tries so hard to protect everyone,” she whispered. “Margaret, the estate, even me. But who protects him? Who helps him carry these burdens he insists on bearing alone?”
“You do,” Edmund said quietly. “Whether he admits it or not. I’ve heard talk of how the tenants speak of you both now – not just their Duke and Duchess, but their protectors, working in harmony for Alverton’s good.”
“And yet he will not share this particular trouble with me.” Charlotte’s fingers curled against the windowpane. “Sometimes I see him watching me, as though he wishes to speak, but then that careful mask descends again, and he withdraws behind his duties.”
Edmund was silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful as he studied the grounds below.
“Do you remember,” he said finally, “when Papa first took over management of our estate? How he insisted on reviewing every record, every account from Grandfather’s time?”
“Of course. Mama said he scarcely slept that first year, so determined was he to understand everything perfectly.”
“Yes, but do you remember why?” Edmund turned to face her fully. “Not from lack of trust in Grandfather’s management, but from a deep need to protect what he loved. To ensure that no hidden difficulty might arise to threaten his family’s security.”
Understanding dawned slowly.
“You think that William’s reticence comes from the same impulse?”
“I think,” Edmund said carefully, “that a man who has seen his family’s reputation nearly destroyed once might go to any lengths to prevent such danger from touching those he loves now.”
The simple observation sent warmth spreading through Charlotte’s chest even as it squeezed her heart.
“Edmund...”
“Let me help, Lottie.” Her brother’s voice held quiet authority.
“Let me investigate Sir Geoffrey’s claims quietly, through channels that cannot be traced back to Alverton.
If his documents are not all he claims them to be, but are, indeed, forgeries, there may be evidence of similar attempts elsewhere. ”
Charlotte studied her brother’s face, seeing in it the same quiet determination that their father displayed when confronting difficult decisions. The morning light caught the signet ring he wore – the Westbridge crest that represented generations of honour and duty.
“You truly believe that you might discover something useful?” she asked, hope warring with caution in her breast.
“Sir Geoffrey’s reputation has never been entirely clean,” Edmund replied. “And men who forge one document rarely stop at just one attempt. If he has tried such schemes before...”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Mrs Walden entered with her usual quiet efficiency, though something in her manner suggested urgency.
“Begging Your Grace’s pardon, but His Grace has returned early from his inspection. He asks if you might join him in the library at your convenience.”
Charlotte’s heart quickened at this evidence that William sought her company voluntarily.
Such requests had grown more frequent since their morning beneath the oak tree, each one a small victory in their careful dance towards true partnership.
“Thank you, Mrs Walden. Please inform His Grace that I shall attend him directly.” She turned back to her brother as the housekeeper withdrew. “Edmund...”
“Go to your husband,” he said gently. “I shall remain at the Bull and Crown in the village for several days, should you need me. And Lottie...” He caught her hand as she moved towards the door.
“Remember what I said about love strengthening rather than weakening us. The way you look when speaking of him – that’s not duty or obligation.
That’s the same light I saw in Mama’s eyes whenever Papa entered a room. ”
Heat rose in Charlotte’s cheeks, but she did not deny the observation.
“Will you take tea with us before you leave? William would wish to greet you properly.”
“Another time, perhaps.” Edmund’s smile held knowing warmth. “I think perhaps that His Grace might have private matters to discuss with his Duchess. The boundary inspection cannot have gone well, if he’s returned so early.”
Charlotte’s concern must have shown in her face, for her brother’s expression softened further.
“Trust in your heart, dearest,” he said quietly. “And trust in his, even if he struggles to express it. A man doesn’t look at his wife the way Alverton looks at you if he feels nothing deeper than duty.”
With a formal bow that didn’t quite hide his affectionate smile, Edmund took his leave.
Charlotte remained in her sitting room for several moments, gathering her composure and her courage. Whatever had brought William home early, whatever concerns clouded his mind, she would face them at his side – if only he would let her.
Through her window, she watched Edmund mount his horse and ride away, his straight-backed figure so like their father’s that it made her heart ache.
His words echoed in her mind as she smoothed her skirts and prepared to join William in the library.
Love, her brother had suggested, might be a strength rather than a weakness.
Perhaps, Charlotte thought as she made her way down the corridor, it was time to test that theory. Not with declarations or demands, but with more of the quiet support and understanding that William so desperately needed, whether he admitted it or not.
After all, love expressed itself in many ways. Sometimes the most profound declarations required no words at all.