Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
“Mother, why would they have hidden her away like that? It seems terribly wicked,” Aurelia protested, pointing to the words on the page of the book sitting in a sea of light blue muslin on Charlotte’s lap.
They were sitting nestled against each other on her daughter’s bed.
Their lessons over, Charlotte opted to delve deeper into the latest tome of fairy tales they had acquired for their library.
“Well, it makes a story much more enjoyable when the heroine must overcome great obstacles to find happiness, don’t you think? Cinderella will eventually come to a happy end, I’m quite sure of it.” Charlotte gazed down upon her daughter.
Aurelia crossed her arms in front of her chest, her wide blue eyes trained on her mother. “I’m not sure I want to continue. Her sisters are perfectly horrible. I wouldn’t ever want a sister if that’s what they’re like.”
Tapping her finger on her daughter’s adorable pout, Charlotte smiled. “You would not have such an awful sister, I promise you. I am not such a horrible mother as Cinderella’s stepmother, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked playfully.
Aurelia considered, her frown lifting slightly. “I suppose. But I’ll never know for certain unless I have a brother or sister. Do you think I ever will, Mama?”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of making another child. Perry had certainly begun the process the previous night, but they wouldn’t know for certain until some time had passed. Suddenly, it had become one of her greatest desires.
“It is a possibility,” Charlotte said, closing the book and placing it on the desk. “Perhaps you should go find Ann and have her bring you to the kitchen. I asked Betsy to make your favorite lemon tarts. You must be getting hungry.”
Clapping her hands enthusiastically, Aurelia jumped up from the bed in a flurry of pink. Tilting her head, Charlotte watched her daughter as she straightened and smoothed her skirts, remembering the behavior that was expected, now that she was the daughter of an earl.
Her thoughts drifted to her husband. Of course, he must be busy running the estate, and he did have that meeting with the Duke of Bridgewater and the Viscount Witney that afternoon.
She would have to wait until later to see him again.
Loath to disturb him in his work, she sighed wistfully, thinking it might be a good time to explore the gardens further.
The estate had elaborate grounds for a London home, which she had yet to properly enjoy.
From what she could gather, a famous designer had created the landscape, and they were among the most stunning in the city for a private estate.
She loved being surrounded by such beauty. The gardens were utter perfection.
Soft rays of afternoon sunlight gave the space a warm glow after several days of rain.
The plants were at their summer best, with most flowers in full bloom and later-flowering breeds waiting for their moment to burst forth.
Though it didn’t resemble her garden at Fermoy, Charlotte admired the design, the way the beds were planned to offer blooms during three out of four seasons.
She recognized most of the varieties of plants, finding comfort as though becoming reacquainted with old friends.
Stroking the soft petals of a particular breed of blush-colored roses, she hummed a familiar tune in her head.
Being outdoors always opened up a place within her that made her feel alive.
The air was sweet and revived her, a welcome distraction from her worries.
As she strolled among the carefully designed beds and seating areas made for quiet contemplation and solitude, she noted the varieties she might be tempted to sketch.
It would do Aurelia some good to resume the activities they had pursued in the country.
Charlotte was reminded that not all aspects of their life had to change; only the ones that left her feeling isolated and alone.
After a night spent in Perry’s arms, she no longer feared loneliness.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do to seek that comfort again.
Breaking the barriers between them moved their marriage past the for-appearances-only version she had expected.
It also made her feel complete in a way she hadn’t known she needed.
A part of her that was missing had been restored in Perry’s arms last night.
There was no doubt in her mind. Charlotte was passionately in love with her husband.
Perhaps she always had been. His tender touches, worshipful kisses, and the way he lingered in the heat of their embrace spoke of a man as loath to let go as she was.
A small smile teased her lips as she gazed absently into a cluster of sweet-smelling white roses.
“I wonder what thoughts bring such a lovely smile to your lips,” a deep voice murmured in her ear from behind.
Charlotte flushed, covering a giggle with her gloved hand.
“I’m thinking of a very dashing gentleman,” she said, her tone playful. Flirtatious? Charlotte could hardly recognize herself. Her gaze flicked to connect with his.
“Oh, what I would do for it to be me,” Perry teased with a warm smile.
“I’ll never tell.” She tugged his head down to steal a kiss.
Perry wove his hands around her waist, his warm lips drawing out their kiss.
“May I join you in your garden exploration?” he asked.
Charlotte gave him a flirtatious look and turned to continue meandering down the garden pathway, twining their hands.
“How do you feel about the garden here? It is hardly the expanse we enjoy out in the country. Is it to your liking?” Perry inquired.
Charlotte glanced up at him, the sun making its way blindingly into her eyes, despite the very proper bonnet that sheltered her delicate features from its rays. Her mother would be proud that she was protecting her skin for once.
“It is quite pleasant,” she said with a small smile, running her hand through the verdant greenery. “The blooms are quite fragrant at this time of year. Though…” Charlotte turned, her eyes sweeping the entire garden.
Perry followed her gaze as she searched for something amongst the blooms. He gave her a puzzled look, as though trying to guess what she found lacking in the abundance surrounding them.
“It is all so lovely,” Charlotte continued. “I see no room for improvement.”
Perry seemed to recognize the mild disappointment flashing in her eyes before she masked it with a look of contentment.
After all, it was strange to complain that a garden was too perfect; she wouldn’t dare touch any aspect of it and risk ruining the vision created by another.
They had a capable group of gardeners, and as the new countess, wouldn’t want to make drastic changes that might upset the servants.
Her parents had given her leave to experiment, and she gained much joy from making changes to the gardens at Fermoy.
Here, there was no work to be done. The stunning interplay and balance of colors, varying heights, and textures was beyond perfection.
Yet, she longed for a garden that was entirely hers.
There was not even one bed she could see herself working on or changing, should the need overtake her.
Perhaps she would spend her time weeding, though it was impossible to find a single stray shoot marring the beauty before her.
The gardeners at Wildwood were extremely well managed.
Besides, it was below her station to be toiling in the garden, dirtying her hands.
A countess kept her hands pristine, protected by delicate layers of lace and silk.
As a fallen woman, it hadn’t mattered. Now, perception was everything.
She turned back, continuing slowly on the pathway, perturbed at how she could be at once pleased and disappointed.
“May I show you something? It is a bit of an embarrassing secret. You mustn’t tell anyone.
” He took her hand and led her down a gravel pathway where she hadn’t yet ventured, away from the splendid and showy section of the garden, past other resplendent and well-cared-for beds along a stone wall covered in a thick layer of ivy.
Charlotte passed her hand through the ivy as they walked, attempting to take in the garden as Perry guided her through.
Perhaps he knew what she was looking for, what section of the garden would most appeal to her.
She followed blindly, trusting he would show her something special.
“Just around the corner, we are almost there. This secret is very well hidden. Humphries, our head gardener, will have my head if he discovers I have brought you here. I am convinced it is his greatest shame.”
Charlotte laughed at the idea of the gardener being upset with Perry.
This must be a very important secret he was revealing.
Perry walked up to a heavy wood garden gate, painted in a light gray to blend in with the surrounding stone.
The wall went well over her head as she tilted her eyes up to see.
The old gate was half covered in delicate pink roses that cascaded from the other side.
Perry lifted the latch on the gate and pushed.
Something on the other side resisted his invasion.
He gave another solid shove, grunting as he used his shoulder against the aging gate, and finally, it relented.
He pushed it open, flattening a patch of tall grasses and a poorly tended, worn pathway.
Grass grew boldly between the stones in the ground, small eruptions of snowdrops or soft clumps of moss bursting erratically in between.
“What is this place?” Charlotte marveled as she gazed upon the wild garden, abandoned and left to grow untended for what seemed like many years. It was lush and unkempt, left in charge of its own destiny.