Chapter Three
Arthur stopped in his tracks and stared at what he saw.
In front of him stood a young man. Charles.
He was talking lowly to Frasier, but then his eyes locked with Arthur’s and the two stared at each other.
He was amazed. It was like looking at himself in a mirror.
There were some slight differences, but only he and probably Frazier would notice them.
Charles wore his hair longer; it went to his shoulders and was slightly lighter due to all the sunlight he got.
He was muscular from all the labor he did to occupy his time.
The men stood in silence, each taking the other in.
Finally, Arthur decided to try and break the silence. “Hello, Charles, I’m your brother Arthur.”
It took a minute or so for Charles to process what was going on. He kept standing, not a muscle flinching.
“Yes, I know. You look amazingly a lot like me.”
“Indeed, you do. Are you ready to head out to London?”
Charles hesitated with his answer. Frazier was right there with him. “We’ve talked about this. We’re going to London. Arthur is an MP. Then we’ll go to Kent.”
“Can I go to Parliament to watch?” Charles asked.
“Of course you can. But first we need to get to London,” Arthur replied.
“Yes, I am ready.”
“Excellent,” Arthur said.
“We go by boat to the mainland, and afterwards we’ll head to London,” Charles said.
“That is correct,” Frazier said, trying to reassure any doubts or fears Charles might have.
The threesome started to walk to the cottage Charles had been living in. The wagon was being loaded when they walked by. Charles slowed down to observe how the men were progressing but quickly caught up to Frazier and Arthur.
Finally, they came upon the carriage.
“Do you wish to say goodbye to Denton?” Arthur asked.
“No, he probably wouldn’t see me. He doesn’t seem to like me, so we can leave immediately.”
Arthur hated the fact that Charles had lived his life in a bubble, always being protected from the possibility of someone taking advantage of him.
With time and his brother’s acute awareness, Arthur was determined to see he overcame his anxieties.
He could make inquiries about Charles seeing a new doctor and see if that might help.
That was not something he would push. Right now, they needed to build trust between the two of them.
It came to him that he hadn’t inquired about the money Charles seemed to be earning from a publisher. He had to have written a book to receive that kind of money.
They left Denton’s estate in Arthur’s carriage.
Speaking further with Denton proved to be impossible.
Arthur was turned away. He shook his head and climbed into his carriage.
Charles sat across from him. He was looking around the interior of the coach.
Arthur wasn’t sure if he was considering bolting or just taking everything in.
“Are we going directly to London?” Charles asked.
“No, I thought we’d find a place after we’ve crossed.”
Charles looked notably nervous. “We mustn’t stop, except to rest the team. We must reach London today.”
“Is there a reason?”
“I do not like being idle. Staying at an inn would make us idle.”
Arthur nodded as though he understood. He knew his brother had idiosyncrasies and he would have to learn them, or at least be patient with him. “Very well. I’ll tell the driver as soon as we’re crossing.”
“Thank you,” Charles replied.
“You must tell me if you’re not comfortable with anything. At least until I know your ways.”
The conversation completely took a turn. Arthur understood this was a way Charles managed some conversations. “Tell me about Roxanne. What is she like?”
“You will like Roxanne. She and her husband live close by in Kent. She’s very kindhearted and will do anything for you. She’s older than us by a couple of years.”
“So that makes me the youngest.”
“Yes, it does,” Arthur replied.
They were waiting for the coach to be loaded onto the barge that took people and items to Wight. He would give his man the new orders. The last thing he wanted was for Charles to get out of sorts.
Once he returned to the carriage, he found his brother with notebook in hand, furiously scribbling away. He wondered if it were some sort of journal he kept.
“Are you planning to write another book?”
“Yes. Soon.”
“What was your previous book about?” Arthur asked. He didn’t know and wasn’t sure how many there were.
Charles arched a brow and stopped writing. “I’ve written three books. Each book is about a period of English history and how they influence today’s world.”
“That sounds like it takes a lot of research. How do you choose which period to write about?”
“I don’t. The subject matter chooses me.”
“Interesting,” Arthur replied. “Do you do speaking engagements?”
“Rarely. If my publisher receives an invitation, we discuss the matter. They go through them for me. Oxford is wanting me to come speak.”
“Will you accept the Oxford invitation?”
Charles ran his hand through his hair and then scrubbed his beard with his hand. “At some time. They ask every time I come out with a new book.”
“I suppose you should. It speaks volumes on how well received your books are.”
“Yes. It’s just one subject matter that I’m passionate about. Perhaps I’ll be able to expand into something else at some time.”
Arthur could tell his brother had been well schooled and that he had a passion for things most men wouldn’t. He wondered what he wanted to expand into but decided that was enough for one day. “Are you hungry, Charles?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I’m going to stop and purchase a hamper so we can have something to eat while we’re heading back to London.”
Charles grunted, his attention on something else. He stayed silent. Arthur knew he stayed on one subject for only so long. But in a matter of minutes, he recalled his conversation and answered. “Excellent idea.”
Any further conversation was halted. At least on Charles’s end.
Arthur engaged the coachman when they pulled up in front of an establishment.
He sat back until the man returned carrying a basket.
The coachman handed it in to Arthur and in moments, the carriage groaned as it pulled out onto the street.
Once they were on the way to London, Arthur opened the basket which was sitting beside him. “We’ve got some Cornish pasties, two varieties of cheeses, apples and pears, a loaf of crusty bread, and a bottle of wine.”
Arthur began to take items out of the basket and lay them on the seat next to him.
He found two plates and handed one to his brother.
That was still a strange word to come out of his mouth.
He sliced cheese and an apple and pear. Charles didn’t seem to have any trouble in helping himself to what he wanted.
Arthur followed suit, though he took less, making sure there would be plenty.
He noticed that his brother ate like there was no tomorrow. He wondered why.
Once everything was put away, Arthur placed the basket on the far side of the seat he occupied.
He looked across and found Charles settled back, his eyes closed, taking a well-deserved nap.
He imagined the recent days had been tiring for him.
He’d been through quite a few changes. Denton’s father had died, leaving Charles precariously in an odd position.
If Arthur hadn’t found out his brother existed, he may well have been taken advantage of.
He’d thought that when he first set eyes on Charles, but the more he was around him, the more he understood it was a partial act.
Charles knew he could learn much more if he played ignorant.
People thought him odd anyway, so playing into that thought, he could pretend one thing while he was learning; he would take things in stride.
Arthur picked up a book he’d brought along with him but found he couldn’t concentrate on the words in front of him. After several tries, he set the book down and closed his eyes. It was the last thing he remembered.
The next thing he recalled was Charles trying to wake him up. His first thought was they’d reached London. “Arthur, we’re getting closer to London.”
“How can you tell?”
“Traffic has become heavier. More people too.”
“You would be correct,” Arthur replied. “We’re still about an hour outside London.”
“How do you know?” Charles had a puzzled look on his face as he looked out the window.
“I recognize that field,” he replied, pointing to the window on the opposite side of the coach.
Charles nodded and peered out that side of the coach.
He didn’t say a word. It was as though he were trying to remember every detail of that field for future encounters.
Finally, he sat back and closed his eyes.
Arthur knew Charles’s mind had to be going full speed.
He was certain he would in the same situation.
Charles was basically a stranger. Neither knew the other, and Arthur was sure this was going to be more delicate than what was going on now.
He and Daphne had discussed where Charles should live when they headed back to the country.
There was a separate wing that was barely used.
Sometimes it was occupied by guests, so the rooms got used.
Other times it sat empty. It also had a full kitchen if Charles liked it and wanted to use it.
If he felt uncomfortable, Charles could also live in one of the spare cottages, like he did at Denton’s.
There was one cottage that came to mind to Arthur.
It sat on the edge of the meadow, hidden by trees and brush.
It had a small stable and outbuilding and was close enough to the main house that Charles could walk the distance.