Chapter 34
“Tell me about this Joshua Robertson,” Ballantine said as he and Charlotte walked back to the house.
“He worked for me.”
Ballantine’s brows lifted. “Did he now?”
Heat swept up Charlotte’s neck. “He helped me search for Simon. He has a homestead near Simon’s, you see, and I . . .” She realized she was babbling and let her voice fade away.
Ballantine looked over his shoulder to where Joshua stood in conversation with Henry. “Ah. I begin to understand your interest in the backwoods.”
Charlotte wanted to hide from the knowing glint in Ballantine’s eyes.
They turned at the front stoop and Ballantine fixed his attention on Joshua, looking him up and down. That Joshua didn’t appreciate the appraisal was evident in the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he met Ballantine’s gaze, a hint of challenge in his own.
Charlotte cringed in expectation of Ballantine’s next words. He’d judge Joshua’s homespun clothing and battered boots and insult the man who’d saved her life more than once. The man who was worth two of the soft-handed suitors that society offered.
“Henry speaks highly of him.” Ballantine turned his attention back to Charlotte. “And if he’s the reason you haven’t come to harm these past weeks, then I must offer him my thanks.”
It took Charlotte a minute to comprehend Ballantine’s words. The man had changed. She smiled. “Yes, perhaps we both should.”
Charlotte watched Ballantine’s coach depart, an unwelcome awkwardness making her hesitate to face Joshua. Her plan depended on Joshua’s help. Perhaps she’d overstepped. Presumed. Her heart beat faster.
“Charlotte?” His voice, deep and familiar, rolled over her, hushing the worst of her fears. “Aren’t you cold? Perhaps you should go inside.”
She turned and let her heart warm with the pleasure of seeing Joshua’s face, the serious lines erased by a hesitant smile. “Aren’t you? I doubt you should be on that leg.”
He grimaced. “It hurts a wee bit, but—”
“Come, let’s sit down. I have much to tell you.”
He followed her into the study, his presence close behind her like a shield. Charlotte wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean back and feel the comforting strength of Joshua’s arms around her. She shook her head. What was wrong with her? He’d never spoken of a future together.
Charlotte gestured to a chair in front of the fire and swallowed. She’d given no thought to how she would ask for his help.
“I’m sorry. I know how much this home means to you.
” His voice was low, as though he could feel her pain.
The depth of sadness and sympathy in his eyes reminded her that he was as well acquainted with loss as she.
His gaze strayed past her to the mantel, where Papa’s sword hung above an oil painting of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo. “I wish your brother . . .”
The concern in his voice made tears spring to her eyes. “I wish he was here, too. But . . . I’m fine.” She surprised even herself with the word choice. It was true. A feeling of well-being had settled in her bones, fueled by the certainty that she’d made the right decision.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He stood and paced to Papa’s desk, running his fingers along its top. “This was all made from one tree trunk. A fine old maple it must have been,” he murmured, almost as though he spoke to himself.
Charlotte sat up. She’d learned by now that when Joshua spoke of trees and wood grains, he had something important to say.
His fingers stilled their restless movement and his gaze lifted to meet hers. “It worries me something fierce, you being alone and all.”
She couldn’t look away from the burning intensity in his eyes. He was worried for her. Did the word mask deeper feelings? Her breath caught as she willed him to say more.
“Will you be safe with Ballantine?” The words burst out of him, low and rough.
“With Ballantine?”
His brows creased. “He won’t take you in?” Outrage replaced worry in his voice. “You can’t stay here on your own.”
The hope she’d held that he might be about to declare something more personal vanished. He only wanted to know that she’d be taken care of. Of course. He was a protector to the core—hadn’t Mrs. Norris warned her of that?
“I’m quite safe.” She spoke firmly to allay any lingering fears that he bore some responsibility for her well-being. She sought more than safety from Joshua Robertson, but if he had nothing else to give, it was best she knew it now. “You see, Papa left Edenbrook to me.”
So, she was an heiress.
“To you?” Joshua repeated the words, wondering if she could see the conflict writ large on his face.
Relief that she wasn’t destitute. Bitter disappointment, too, though it shamed him to admit it.
If she’d had nothing and no one to turn to, there had been a chance she would turn to him.
“I’m happy to hear it. You’ll be well provided for.
” He attempted a smile to cover his turmoil.
With Edenbrook as a dowry, she’d soon marry a gentleman.
Perhaps Ballantine already had someone in mind.
The thought made him want to slam his fist into the fine maple desktop.
He rose and paced to the window instead.
“I’m selling Edenbrook.”
Joshua took in a surprised gulp of air and tried to make sense of her words. “You’re selling?” She hadn’t stopped singing the praises of her home since he’d known her. Now she’d sell? He spun about. “To whom?”
Charlotte crossed her arms. “Not to Deacon Cole, I assure you. Mr. Ballantine will make some discreet inquiries. He’s certain he can find a buyer who’ll restore Edenbrook to prosperity. Apparently, properties like this so close to the city aren’t as common as they once were.”
Joshua nodded. Even in its run-down state, Edenbrook should net Charlotte a tidy sum. But still . . . “Where will you live?” A young, well-born woman like Charlotte couldn’t live alone. Even he knew that wasn’t seemly. Did she have an aunt, perhaps, or some distant connection she hadn’t mentioned?
“I shall live at Simon’s home.” She lifted her chin as though she expected him to argue with her.
He would, too, if he wasn’t too shocked to string two words together. “Your brother’s house,” he repeated. “In the bush.”
The disbelief he hadn’t bothered to mask seemed to strengthen her, for she sat up, a fresh fire in her eyes. “Yes. I’ll split the revenue with him. It’s only fair. He’s a child of Edenbrook, too.” Her fingers twisted together in her lap. “And I imagine he’ll need it.”
“But you love this place.”
She shook her head. “I’ve come to realize that it’s not the house I love. My family made Edenbrook important to me. I thought if I could just build it back to what it once was, we’d all be happy here again.” She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “It’s nothing without them.”
He knew the bitter sadness of facing a life alone, but it didn’t have to be that way for her. She had so many options. “But you could move to the city. You’ll be a woman of means. You could—”
“In the society that turned its back on my family? The society that will never accept my brother?” She shook her head.
“No. I’ll keep Simon’s homestead in good order for him and give him something to return to.
Maybe build a school for the children up there.
Only . . .” Hesitancy crept into her voice.
“Only?” he prompted.
“Only I might need a little help.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I have a lot to learn about life in the bush. Running a homestead.” Delicate color rose in her cheeks. “I know I’ve been nothing but trouble to you since we met. I can pay for your time, of course—”
“I’ll help you.” Of course he would. She’d thrown a lifeline to a drowning man.
If he couldn’t have her at his side, at least he could be part of her life and lighten her load.
“There’s no need to mention payment.” His voice was gruff with emotion he didn’t try to hide.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other. ”
“Friends.” She repeated the word, gazing at him with a mixture of hope and worry. He suddenly pictured Mrs. Wilkie, her face drawn with fear and hunger. The bush had taken a vibrant, loving woman and broken her. It could do the same to Charlotte.
“You can’t do this.” The words burst out of him, unmeasured, unexamined. “You should stay here where you’re safe. Comfortable. You deserve more.”
Her lips firmed. “I deserve to make my own decisions about my life. I have prayerfully considered the options open to me. And I’ve decided to sell and move to the bush.” Her chin lowered and she leaned forward. “If you won’t help me, I’ll hire someone who will.”
Charlotte was his future. The knowledge hit him with bone-deep certainty. God had placed her in his path. Not once, but again and again. It had taken him a long time to get the hint. He’d been too afraid of rejection. Too afraid he wouldn’t be enough for her.
The good Lord gives you opportunities. Only you can choose what you make of them.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to help you, Charlotte.”
The light faded from her eyes. Blast. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Where was the speech he’d rehearsed in case such a moment arose? The one where he declared his love?
She huffed. “Well, why are you still here, then?”
He reached for her hand. At his touch, her starched outrage faded. Her eyes searched his face, questioning. He longed to lean forward, touch his lips to hers, and feel the warmth of her response. But there were things that needed saying first.
Under her steady gaze, the scene he’d pictured a hundred times flew from his head like a startled flock of turkeys. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. I do. Only, not as a friend.”
Her brow puckered in confusion. “Not as a friend.”
“As a husband,” he said in desperation. Her eyes widened. This was surely the worst marriage proposal of all time. He dropped to one knee. “Charlotte. I want to marry you.” There. He’d said it. Not gracefully, but the words were out.
He felt the breath leave her all at once. “M-marry me?”
His fingers tightened around hers. “Yes. I . . .” He took a breath.
“I love you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, not since you screeched at me across that inn yard.
” Her silence unnerved him. It wasn’t that he expected her to jump at his request, especially when he’d forgotten every convincing argument he’d planned.
But he’d expected something other than silence.
Finally, she spoke. “I do not screech.” Then she smiled.
Not the quirk of her lips when something amused her, nor the wistful smile he’d seen on her face as she’d said farewell to Scarlett.
This smile enveloped him, warming him like a cheerful blaze and causing him to hope as he’d scarcely hoped before.
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. Could it be that she felt the same?
“I haven’t much to offer you,” he said, even though she ought to know that by now. “But I’d work every day of my life to make you happy.”
“I’ve discovered I don’t need much to be happy.” Her hand caressed his cheek, her fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, making shivers of pleasure run down his spine. She tugged him back to standing and crowded close. “And you’re wrong about one thing.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t think straight when she was so close. “Wrong?” he repeated, his eyes on her lips.
“You have so much to offer me.” She stretched up on tiptoe to plant a brief kiss on his lips. He followed her, wanting more, but she pressed a finger over his mouth. “You’ve been there for me every step of this adventure. You’ve cared for me when no one else did. I love you.”
His arms came around her then and he crushed her to him, his lips moving over hers with all the love and passion he couldn’t put into words.
The sound of a throat clearing had them jumping apart a few minutes later. “I reckon it’s time for supper.” Fulton spoke from the doorway, arms crossed, gaze severe. “And I reckon you have an announcement to make?”
Joshua’s face burned. He looked down at Charlotte, who wasn’t faring much better. They shared a smile. “Aye, Fulton, we do.”
“Good.”
Later, they walked to the twin graves on the hill and Joshua held Charlotte while they paid their respects. Then she turned in his arms to look down on her home.
Joshua nuzzled the velvet skin of her neck before following her gaze. Edenbrook stood before them, windows glimmering silver in the twilight. “You’re sure now?” He still couldn’t believe she’d leave all this . . . for him.
Charlotte leaned back, her hands coming to rest over his. “This used to be the center of all my hopes and dreams. Now it’s just an empty shell.” She nestled into his arms. “Don’t you see, Joshua? We’ll make a new home, you and I. You’re my family now.”