Epilogue
“Charlotte. Wake up.” Small hands nudged Charlotte’s shoulder, pulling her from a deep sleep.
She sat up. Emmy was already dressed in her new wool gown with matching pink ribbons, a gift from Charlotte, in her hair.
“What time is it?” Charlotte stifled a yawn.
“Time for breakfast. Hurry. Joshua will be here soon.”
Joshua. Charlotte bolted out of bed. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She hurried to the washstand.
“Mother said you needed your sleep.”
Charlotte patted her face dry. No wonder she’d been tired. The past weeks had been exhausting. With Fulton’s help, she’d packed up Edenbrook, loaded her belongings into a sturdy sleigh, and headed north to Simon’s cabin.
“That I did, and you look a sight better today for it, my dear.” Mrs. Foster entered the bedroom, a cheerful smile on her face. “Here you are.” She set a steaming cup of tea on the dressing table. “Emmy, go give the porridge a stir.”
“But Mama, I want to stay and help.”
“Now. And set the table for breakfast, too.” Mrs. Foster directed a stern look at Emmy, and the girl obeyed with a final longing glance at the freshly pressed gown hanging from a peg on the wall.
Charlotte followed her gaze. Mama’s wedding dress. Charlotte’s wedding dress now. She glanced at the tea on the dressing table. “I don’t know if I can eat anything. My stomach . . .”
Mrs. Foster looped her arm through Charlotte’s. “Every woman has nerves on her wedding day. You love him, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, but . . .” Fears that she thought she’d conquered came rushing back. She’d never been able to make Papa and Mama happy, no matter how hard she tried. Even Simon had left her for a new family in the bush. What if she wasn’t enough for Joshua?
“He loves you, too. And why wouldn’t he? You’re a good, loyal woman who’s not afraid of hard work. I reckon he’s thanking God every night you said yes.”
A rush of tears filled Charlotte’s eyes at the woman’s confidence in her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.” The Fosters had insisted Charlotte marry from their home since she had no brother or father to give her away.
Mrs. Foster had planned a wedding luncheon and helped Charlotte alter Mama’s wedding dress.
The family had welcomed her without hesitation.
No wonder Simon felt so comfortable with them.
“No tears now.” Mrs. Foster was all business again, pushing Charlotte into the chair and unraveling the rags she’d put in the night before to curl Charlotte’s hair. “What will Joshua think if he gets here and you look as though you’ve been crying? Come, drink your tea.”
Charlotte took a sip and let Mrs. Foster fuss over her and lead her to the kitchen for breakfast.
She nibbled a slice of toast, her eye on the mantel clock. “Will the minister be here in time?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Mr. Foster said.
He and Sam had just come in from morning chores.
“With the weather as cold and clear as it is, he’ll have no trouble on the roads.
A sleigh can get here in half the time of a wagon.
” He rested a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. She looked up and returned his smile.
It had taken a while for her anger against him to cool.
One night around the fire, when everyone else had gone to bed, he’d told her how he’d loved her mother once, back in England.
How he’d left for war, and she’d thought him dead and married another.
How he’d been a hotheaded, impulsive youth, not unlike her brother.
Followed his first love to Canada and begged her to run away with him, though she had a husband and small child of her own by then.
“I knew it was wrong.” Mr. Foster shook his head. “I’ll be ashamed of myself until my dying day. But I can’t regret it entirely. Simon is a fine man. I’m proud of him. And I’m thankful to your father for raising him.”
Charlotte had bonded with Mr. Foster over their shared worry for Simon. Together, they’d sent notices to far-flung papers. Mr. Foster had written every acquaintance he could think of. He was certain a pardon would be granted to the son of the famous Charles Carruthers. It was only a matter of time.
Fulton arrived first—no surprise since he lived close by in Simon’s cabin, though he took many of his meals with the Fosters and was practically one of the family now.
Sam had rejoiced to see Tuck again. Fulton offered riding lessons in exchange for help around Simon’s homestead, and the two were soon fast friends.
A knock sounded at the door. Emmy jumped out of her seat and raced to the window. “He’s here!”
Mr. Foster rose and opened the door. “Welcome.” His manner was formal, as befit a wedding, but Charlotte hardly heard what he said. Her eyes met Joshua’s as though it had been weeks rather than days since they’d seen each other.
“Good morning, sir.” Joshua shifted from foot to foot, twirling his hat in his hand.
Charlotte smiled. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one with wedding jitters.
He wore a new gray wool suit, simply cut, that drew her eyes to the breadth of his shoulders.
His hair was neatly trimmed, and his cheeks freshly shaven.
He looked so handsome he stole her breath away.
“Come in, my boy,” Mrs. Foster called from the hearth. She poured Joshua a cup of coffee and motioned him to the table. “No need to stand on ceremony with us. We’re family.”
Emmy returned to the table, sliding in beside her brother on the bench and leaving her spot beside Charlotte empty.
“Hey,” Sam said. “There’s more room on the other side.”
“Oh, hush,” she whispered. “Don’t you have any sense of romance?”
Sam’s comic look of disgust made everyone laugh. Joshua took the spot beside Charlotte, crowding closer to her than was strictly necessary.
“You look beautiful.” He leaned close, his breath tickling her cheek.
Charlotte reached up to tuck one of her new curls behind her ear. “Thank you.” She grinned. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He looked down self-consciously. “Last time I was in town, I went to the mercantile. It’s only ready-made, but I—”
“You look grand.”
“Well, we’re a fine pair then, aren’t we?” His hand found hers under the table, his thumb drawing distracting circles on her palm that sent tingles up and down her arm.
Mrs. Foster turned from the window. “Couldn’t ask for better traveling weather. It’s a perfect day.”
“Almost perfect,” Mr. Foster said, a shadow on his face. “I only wish . . .”
“What, Papa?” Emmy asked. “What do you wish?”
“I wish Simon was here.”
Charlotte looked down. She did, too.
Joshua brought his hand up to briefly cup her cheek. “Any word?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“If they kiss, I’m going to the barn,” Sam declared, earning him a fond cuff from his father.
Joshua dropped his hand and looked across the table. “You just wait, Sam Foster. Someday you’ll meet a girl you can’t take your eyes off.” He turned to smile at Charlotte. “And if you’re very lucky, she’ll be clever and have the biggest, truest heart in the province, too.”
Charlotte blushed and ducked her head. She still wasn’t used to silent, gruff Joshua speaking words of affection so openly.
Another knock sounded at the door, and Mr. Foster rose. “Must be the minister.”
But when he opened the door, it wasn’t young Reverend Eagen from Dundas. A group of people stood in the doorway, familiar faces wreathed in broad smiles.
Beside her, Joshua froze. “Henry?”
Henry bounced into the room at Thomas Ballantine’s side, followed by Mr. Ogden and Mrs. Norris, all looking considerably more chilled than the buoyant Henry.
Ogden sent Joshua a wink. Did that mean Mrs. Norris had finally accepted his proposal?
Joshua had helped Ogden with the purchase of a plot of land adjoining the inn.
The perfect place for a small farm where Ogden could turn his attention to breeding his beloved horses instead of racing them.
“You made it,” Mrs. Foster called. “Come, take a seat by the fire.”
Sam pulled a bench in front of the hearth. Beside him, Charlotte rose to greet the newcomers while Mrs. Foster pushed cups of coffee into their hands and Mr. Foster gathered coats and wraps.
“Joshua?” Charlotte returned to the table where he sat and rested her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up to meet her questioning gaze.
“What is it?” she asked.
He gave a half laugh. “I’m surprised, that’s all. What are they doing here?”
She smiled, her hand sliding up his neck to caress his cheek. “They’re here for you.”
For him.
Henry bounded to his side. “Heard you were getting hitched. Needed to see it with my own eyes.”
Joshua laughed and reached out to tousle Henry’s red hair, the color reminding him of their mam.
Later, after the reverend had arrived, Fulton walked Charlotte to the hearth where Joshua waited.
They spoke their vows, and Joshua slipped Mam’s simple gold band on Charlotte’s finger.
She smiled at him all the while, her gaze so full of love that he contemplated skipping Mrs. Foster’s wedding luncheon and whisking her away to his cabin then and there.
Instead, they accepted Mrs. Norris’s tearful congratulations and Ogden’s hearty handshake. Ballantine gifted them a team of oxen and a new plow, his generosity leaving Joshua speechless. They ate their fill of Mrs. Foster’s roast pork and turkey fricassee, pickled beets, and dried fruit pies.
Under the guise of checking on the horses, Joshua took a break from the chatter. He needed a moment alone to take it all in. He still couldn’t believe they’d come. Mrs. Norris, who embraced him like a son. Henry, proud as punch on his brother’s wedding day.
Joshua Robertson, lonely man against the world, was suddenly surrounded by . . . family. Not the one he’d been born into, but a loving family nonetheless. His throat tightened. Thank you.