Chapter Seventeen
Charles had been up since the new day began to break.
His first thoughts weren’t about Cathryn or about the disagreement they’d had the day before.
Having spent the night next to a fallen tree, he was ready to explore some more.
The tree was near a large creek. He decided to follow the creek and see where it went.
If he went right, he would end up near the house, and he was not ready to have to grovel.
He was also going to stick to his plans and attend Oxford, even if it meant missing Cathryn’s small concert in front of royalty.
He was proud of her, but she needed to understand they were in this marriage for the long term, and that meant she didn’t always get her way.
Following the creek to the left led him deeper into the vast wooded land.
He could tell some of the trees were old growth, probably having been there for decades, if not longer.
As he walked farther, Charles came across an old, deserted cottage.
By the looks of the structure with weeds and vines growing on the walls, it was safe to say no one had lived here for many years.
Glancing at the roof, he was certain it was in decent shape.
He walked to the front door and stepped in.
There was nothing but an old table and chairs.
Whatever else had been here was long gone.
The likely scenario was the cottage had been lived in by a tenant.
He couldn’t think of anyone else. In fact, it was rather far from the others.
Maybe it had once been used as a hunting cottage. That made more sense to him.
The structure wasn’t easily seen. A person would have to know of its existence. For now, it would be a perfect place to go when he needed to be away from society. He looked around and spotted a much-used broom and took it and began sweeping the floor.
Hours passed when Charles stopped to admire his handiwork.
He had a lot of work needing his attention, but he was satisfied it would make a perfect place when he needed solitude.
He could slowly begin to furnish the cottage with what he might need.
Mostly for the kitchen. He knew where the cheese was kept to age and where the smokehouse sat.
He would pay both a visit and bring back what he would need.
Water was easy since the creek was close by. This would be perfect indeed.
Charles was certain there was no search party looking for him. Frazier and Cathryn were probably the only ones who would do so, and they would do that discreetly so as not to alert the rest of the staff.
Recalling his “disappearances” while living on Wight, the more he went off by himself, the less anyone worried about him.
He knew his way around, and people began to realize it was his way to recover.
Frazier was the only one who knew exactly where he went, and even if he didn’t go to his usual place, his valet always had a good idea of where he was.
One time, he managed to slip off Wight and ended up in London.
He stayed there for over a week, using money he’d put aside for adventures.
He never stayed where his family or their friends might run into him.
He explored some of the villages on the outskirts of London.
Some of the neighborhoods were less than pristine but he found them to be almost another world.
He would need to find some straw and blankets to make a place to lie down.
The straw would scratch but, in a few days, it would pack down and he would have a bed of sorts.
He didn’t need much when he was off like this.
Being ready to go back was the only way he’d return.
He saw a side of Cathryn he’d never seen before.
At least not directed at him. Just because she was playing for royalty, at their invitation, didn’t mean that what she did was more important.
This was something they were going to have to figure out together.
Neither one was more important than the other, but she didn’t see it.
Yesterday was all about her. He needed for her to see they both were important in different ways.
Feeling his stomach protesting from the lack of food, Charles pulled out a crude fishing line and an apple.
He would be having fish and knew exactly where to find it just by reading the water.
He began to hike down to the water’s edge when something made him freeze.
Standing perfectly still, he listened closely.
Branches breaking, horse hooves. Slowly, he moved and slid in behind a rather large boulder to wait and see who was coming.
A moment later, he could see the outline of Cathryn.
She was by herself, riding along the creek.
She was looking for him. Though glad to see her, he wasn’t ready to interrupt his time.
His biggest hope right now was that she didn’t veer away from the creek and find the old cottage.
It couldn’t be seen from the water’s edge, which was good for him.
She was looking around at her surroundings, looking and hoping she would find him.
He watched her until she was out of sight. Then stealthily, he followed behind her to see exactly where she was headed. She wasn’t quiet about what she was doing. If she were hunting, she would chase all the animals away with her noise.
She would be in a meadow in a few minutes. That’s where the creek ran, and hopefully she’d get tired of riding around without finding him. He would go to the creek’s edge and drop a fishing line. Hopefully the fish would be biting.
For not knowing his wife for long, he certainly could figure out her movements. He just had to learn how to hold a conversation with her without making her angry. This time he had done it. Made her mad.
He hunted for wood of any kind to use in the hearth to cook. It would stand to reason a fire in there might go unnoticed during the day. There were lots of branches from nearby trees. He picked those up first and took them back to the cottage and dropped them in front of the door.
The sun was beginning to lower in the sky. He walked back out to the creek to check his lines. Both were empty. Determined to outsmart the fish, he dropped the lines back into the creek. He’d seen fish in there, but they weren’t having anything to do with being someone’s meal.
Back at the cabin, Charles picked up all the branches and put them either in the hearth or in a neat pile next to it before going in search of more.
Sometime during the night, a storm rolled in. Lightning was ferocious and the rain pelted down hard. He lit a candle and tilted his head toward the roof. It seemed to be holding well. He could find no cracks or water on the floor.
Lying back down on his makeshift bed, Charles closed his eyes.
It was impossible not to notice what was going on around him.
He hadn’t caught even one fish, so rather than dinner, he went hungry.
His stomach growled in protest. He had a chunk of cheese he brought with him.
He dug it out and pulled off a piece. He had to force himself to slow down and not to take any more.
These were his rations, and he needed to stretch them out as long as possible.
When he woke up again, the storm still raged.
Rain had not let up at all, and rumbles of thunder in the background told him there wouldn’t be a break anytime soon.
He would need to go down to the creek to check his lines and to get some fresh water.
He’d get wet, soaking wet, but he had to try.
He’d start a fire when he returned and try to dry out his clothes.
He walked into the rain and quickly walked to creek side where he checked his lines and filled a bucket with water.
This time, the lines held one fish, a good size one.
He took it off the line and carried the fish to the bank of the creek.
Now to find a way to cook it. Grabbing the fish and the bucket, he almost ran to the cottage.
He was indeed soaked through, so he removed his clothing and lit a fire in the hearth.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long because he needed to clean the fish and prepare it for a meal.
Charles hated being cooped up inside; he always had.
He much preferred to spend his time outside.
There was so much more to do. But for now, he was stuck indoors.
At least until this storm moved on. It seemed to him this was an unusual storm.
It was intense and certainly hadn’t weakened or strengthened since it started.
He hadn’t expected to be stuck in this cottage, but with the intensity of this storm, he had no choice.
Once it stopped or weakened, he would head back to the house.
He was ill-prepared to stay much longer.
Now that he’d found the cottage, he would begin to bring supplies for the next time, because there would be a next time.
It was simply the nature of his personality.
Before he did return, he needed to decide about Cathryn’s performance.
Should he give in and cancel his plans? He shouldn’t have to, but something told him his wife wasn’t going to be happy unless she got her way.
Getting her way meant he would cancel or postpone his scheduled talk at Oxford, and he wasn’t ready to do that.
So what was the solution?