Chapter 15
Fifteen
Was that really her reflection in the looking glass?
Why did Charlotte not appear like a ghost? A wraith, eaten up by despair?
The bright eyes, with just the faintest trace of shadows beneath, seemed too alive when all Charlotte wanted was to curl up, go to sleep, and never wake up again.
She had tossed and turned all night after Hugh had returned with the magistrate and the excisemen, Mr Barton plastering on a face of devil-may-care swagger mixed with apology as he’d been excused, apparently, for his ungentlemanly conduct.
As if no one could have mistaken what they’d seen.
No doubt they assumed it was Charlotte who was at fault. Why would a virtuous young woman be outside in the dark, alone? If Mr Barton had jumped to conclusions regarding her willingness, then that was her fault, of course.
There’d been a tense few moments but then a bluff apology, a bit of back-slapping—amongst the men, that is, who all seemed glassy-eyed with drink—before they’d departed following Charlotte’s departure.
He’d wanted to go after her, but could not.
No matter how much Charlotte and Hugh loved one another, they could have no future together.
At a soft rapping on the door, Charlotte prepared herself for her fate.
“Come!” she called, and the door opened upon the beaming faces of Catherine and her mother.
“Why, Miss Stanbridge, you look just beautiful!” Catherine gushed.
Mrs Glendenning bustled in with a jewelled clip, which she waved in front of Charlotte, saying, “A gift from me, my dear. Though Mr Ravensby will find you perfect just as you are. I said you’d meet him in the garden.”
Mrs Glendenning opened the curtains, and the weak morning sun streamed in. “Ah, there he is, waiting for you near the shrubbery beneath the plane tree. What a perfect location to meet one’s true love, for that is what he is, Charlotte. He will make you the ideal husband.”
Charlotte must have made a little noise of protest, for Catherine said suddenly, with a sly smile, “Why Charlotte, is that a tear I see? I’m so happy for you, though I do wish you’d be with me in London to see what a success I shall be.”
Her mother clicked her tongue. “Now, hurry along, Charlotte, and meet your husband-to-be. We shan’t be spying on you from here, shall we, Catherine?” she added meaningfully, drawing her daughter away from the window where she was looking down at Mr Ravensby.
“Oh, Charlotte, and I see something sparkling in the sunlight. A token of his regard, I’m sure of it!”
“Catherine, that’s enough. Now let your governess go and forge her future path in life. This is a very special, joyous moment for her.”
If only it was, thought Charlotte as she trailed down the stairs, her footsteps growing slower with each step closer to Mr Ravensby.
He wasn’t a bad man, she told herself as she stepped out of the front door and onto the portico. Nor was he unattractive. The sun, in fact, illuminated him right now as a handsome man with his broad shoulders and head of dark hair.
So many women would dream of swapping places, she thought as she crossed the lawn, forcing herself to hold his gaze as the distance between them closed.
A smile of pleasure had lit up his face as he waited for her to reach him in the pool of sunlight in which he stood.
Charlotte’s heart ratcheted up uncomfortably. She’d have to answer him in just a moment when he repeated the question he’d asked what seemed a lifetime before.
And she’d have to show pleasure in doing so, for she could not expect him to be an indulgent husband if he suspected her heart was not fully in accord with her answer.
Or that her heart belonged to another.
“Miss Stanbridge.” He pushed out his chest, his smile growing warmer.
“Mr Ravensby.” She let him take her hand, the dull ache in her heart reinforcing just how great a trade she was making.
He cleared his voice, then said, “I realise you are a great deal younger than I am and know little of life, but do know that I love you dearly and will be kind to you.”
“Yes, Mr Ravensby.” It was hard to push out the words. Or to stop herself from recoiling as he closed the gap between them by another frightening few inches.
“My first marriage was contracted through expediency. Mrs Ravensby brought with her a large dowry. And although you bring me neither land nor riches, it is your beauty and sweet nature that have—”
She’d gasped, she realised. Put him off his stride.
But suddenly she didn’t care.
He frowned. “Miss Stanbridge?”
“Yes, Mr Ravensby–” She couldn’t finish. Blinking, she stared over his shoulder, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her before returning her attention to him as he continued.
“My dear Charlotte, as I was saying.”
But suddenly Charlotte was no longer attending to the confident man in front of her. She blinked again, opened her mouth to speak, then creased her forehead in confusion as she returned her gaze to over Mr Ravensby’s shoulder.
At first she’d simply glimpsed someone on horseback taking the bridle path that skirted the grounds. The only reason they were of any interest was because of the speed at which they were galloping.
Now suddenly Mr Ravensby was in the shade as the sun was covered by cloud.
Before it bobbed out again.
To illuminate Hugh.
Hugh, who was now sliding from horseback and making his way with long, purposeful strides over the lawn towards her.
“Charlotte!”
Mr Ravensby turned. “Miss Stanbridge,” he said, as if to remind Hugh of his manners. “If you don’t mind, Mr Kernick, now is not an opportune time—”
“Hugh!” Charlotte cried, for she didn’t know what else to say. Why was Hugh coming towards her, wearing a look she couldn’t read? As if he had some great secret he wanted to share. Yes, she knew he was leaving. Leaving her. Leaving Swain Cove.
“Charlotte, you haven’t said yes, have you?” he called.
Mr Ravensby cleared his throat as he glowered at Hugh. “I haven’t had the chance to ask the question, Mr Kernick. Now if you don’t mind—”
But now here was Hugh, taking up position beside Mr Ravensby, taking all the light, it seemed and radiating it back at her as he said, “Actually, I do mind, for what I have to say is far more important”
Without warning, he dropped to one knee, reached for Charlotte’s hand which he kissed with lingering yearning, then asked, clearly and with heartfelt emotion, “Charlotte. Will you marry me?”