Sighing, Charlaine sat back, her gaze moving from the letter in her lap. “He didn’t write a word about Abigail,” she whispered to the empty room. “Not a word. What does that mean?”
As her mind ran rampant, her gaze once more dropped to the letter, following the lines he had written without thought. Indeed, Nathanial had not mentioned Abigail at all. He had not spoken of his love for his former fiancée or referenced their happy reunion in any way.
What he had written about was their encounter at the lake. Our disagreement, he had called it. He had spoken of friendship with ardent words, expressing without doubt how much she meant to him. Still, he had called her his friend.
Nothing more.
Was this the answer she had sought?
*
“Ah! There you are.”
Looking up from the papers upon the desk, Nathanial found Abigail poking her head around the door. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Stepping inside, she approached him, a letter in her hand. “This came for you. I told Gusford I would deliver it to you without delay.” She grinned. “He is a rather serious man, is he not?”
Nathanial tensed, his eyes fixed on the letter. “I believe in these parts it is considered a requirement in a butler.” Pushing to his feet, he rounded the desk, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he reached for the envelope. Had Zach written to him? Or…?
Dimly, he noticed Abigail’s laughter cease as her eyes settled upon his face. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
Nathanial swallowed, then took the letter from her hand, turning it to read the words written on the front.
Instantly, his heart slammed against his ribcage: Charlaine!
Striding away to the window, Nathanial ripped open the envelope with jerky movements, impatience urging him on. The parchment almost slipped from his fingers in his haste to know what she had written.
Dearest Nathanial,
Always have we been frank with one another and so I will continue down that path and tell you with all honesty that your rushed departure from Markham Hall made me very angry. I walked around for days contemplating all manners of appropriate punishments for your callous behavior as you called it.
You hurt me because I, too, thought I had lost you when you left without a word. Don’t ever do that again, do you hear? As your friend, I will never turn from you simply because you snap at me. Yes, I will most likely snap back, but I will not leave you. How could you think I would?
I do wish you would come back, not to yell at you, but to see you again. I, too, miss you terribly. Still, I would not wish for you to return out of obligation, but because you, too, desire it. If life at Pembroke Hall keeps you busy, stay. See to your affairs, and if ever you feel like walking through the grass barefoot again, you’ll know where to find me.
Your friend always,
Charlaine
All air rushed from Nathanial’s lungs in relief as his eyes fell from the last word, his lids closing to cherish the words he had read. “I did not lose her,” he mumbled as an image of Charlaine rose in his mind. With arms crossed, she stood before him, brows raised in annoyance as she shook her head at him, chiding him for ever thinking she would abandon him. Had she not made him a promise?
“Who is she?”
At the sound of Abigail’s voice, Nathanial flinched, then slowly turned. He had all but forgotten her presence.
Her face looked tense as her gaze moved from the letter in his hands to meet his eyes. “Have you found a new love?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.
Yes! “No,” Nathanial replied, overwhelmed by the contradicting emotions tugging on his heart. “I found a friend.” Looking down at the letter, he gently brushed his right thumb over Charlaine’s name, wishing with every fiber of his being that she was here.
“A friend?” Abigail shifted from one foot onto the other, curiosity coming to her gaze. “How so?”
Nathanial swallowed, remembering the dark place he had found himself in when first arriving in England. A dark place Abigail’s rejection had banished him to. “She…she was there when I needed someone,” he told her with a pointed look. “I was…angry…” His lips thinned, and he shrugged, now barely able to recall the exact emotion that had been such a constant at the time. “She helped me live again.” Was that not the essence of what she had done for him?
Abigail’s eyes dropped from his. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, a deep sigh leaving her lips before she met his gaze again. “I know it was I who caused you that pain. It was my fault, and I wish it had never happened.”
Nathanial’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. Then, however, he stilled. Did he agree? If Abigail had not broken their engagement, he might never have met Charlaine. For even if they had still met that day of his brother’s wedding celebration, the reason why she had approached him would have been nonexistent. After all, he himself would have been married to Abigail by then.
If all had gone according to plan.
But it had not.
And Nathanial could not help but think that he was glad for it.
“I would like to be your friend again,” Abigail told him, her blue eyes looking up into his. “This past fortnight has been wonderful. It felt like us again. The way we used to be, did it not?” Her hands reached for his. “We could have that again.”
Again, Nathanial nodded before he once more stopped, wondering if what she said was true.
Indeed, he had enjoyed her company this past fortnight. She had felt like a friend, but he had also come to realize that he had never truly known her. She was not the woman he remembered. She was different, freer in the way she expressed herself, without restraint, but with utter honesty. It was something Nathanial had experienced himself.
“I would like for us to be friends,” he told her honestly, returning her smile. “However, I do not believe we should strive to be who we were. Instead, we should be who we are now. We should begin anew and see where life takes us.”
Abigail beamed up at him. “I’d like that very much.”
“I would as well,” Nathanial replied as his mind strayed to Charlaine’s letter. “However, there is someone I need to see.” He smiled. “Someone I want to see.”
Chapter Forty-One
In a Fairy Tale
The rain had finally let up and so Charlaine and Emma took the girls outside for a stroll across the meadows to the west of Markham Hall. The wind tugged on their skirts, and they pulled their coats tighter around themselves.
“There are no more flowers to pick,” Susan complained as they strode onward, her brown eyes sorrowful as she looked at the fading green of the world around her. Leaves were starting to change color, painting the world in orange, red and brown; warm colors to battle the icy wind blowing in from the north.
“Autumn is here,” Emma explained, hugging her little daughter to her side. “Flowers will return in the spring. Now, you can collect leaves. See if you can find one in a dark red. Those are truly beautiful.”
Susan darted off, her little legs carrying her through the tall grass and toward a cluster of trees as she waved to Daphne up ahead.
“You look sad,” Emma observed with a sideways glance at Charlaine, her hushed voice almost swallowed by the wind. “Have you not yet received a reply?”