A sennight had passed since Nathanial had left without a word.
Would he ever come back? That was the question first and foremost on Charlaine’s mind when she woke, when she went to bed and all the moments in-between. Her thoughts were distant, no longer focused on the here and now, but constantly replaying the moment at the lake, the moment Nathanial had kissed her, but also the moment he had turned away.
Remembering his regret over what had happened unerringly drew her thoughts to the letter he had left in his chamber.
And to Abigail.
Picking up her pace, Charlaine strode through the meadow, cutting a wide circle around the lake, unable to bear even a glimpse at it. Temperatures had dropped, and she pulled her shawl around her shoulders, casting a wary glance up at the gray skies. The wind tugged on her hair, swirling it around her face, and she wondered at the sudden changes that seemed to find her so frequently.
Abigail had come to England to see Nathanial. At this very moment, she was at Pembroke Hall with him, for Charlaine had no doubt that was where he had gone in such a hurry. He still loved her, did he not? She had broken his heart, and yet, the moment she called, the moment there was a sliver of hope to reclaim her, Nathanial had left.
Charlaine’s feet stilled and she turned into the wind, allowing it to brush the hair from her face. What would she do now?
Clearly, whatever Nathanial might have felt for her did not hold a candle to what he still felt for Abigail. That was clear now, and Charlaine knew that she needed to make her peace with it and move on.
Anger and disappointment had claimed her whole the first few days after Nathanial had left. She had cursed and yelled, charging on horseback across the meadow until her limbs felt so weary she was certain they would fall off.
Still, it had been the right thing to do for it had calmed the anguish in her heart. With her body exhausted, she had been able to think more clearly and look at everything in a nonemotional way.
The truth was that Nathanial loved Abigail. He always had, and it seemed he always would. And now that Abigail had finally realized what she had so carelessly given up, the promise of a happy future rose before them.
But what about me? A small voice whispered from deep inside.
“You promised to be his friend,” Charlaine told herself as well as the wind as it tugged on her curls, its gentle touch like a caress upon her cheek. “And he promised you the same. He never lied about Abigail or what she meant to him. He never promised you more than friendship.” She sighed. “But then he left without a word.”
With a heavy heart, Charlaine turned away from the far horizon and slowly made her way back toward the house. The chilling air eased the throbbing in her head and soothed the pain in her heart. Still, a dull ache remained, for despite her most rational reasoning, Charlaine knew that although Nathanial had never promised her more than friendship, he had still stolen her heart.
Unwittingly.
And it seemed she would have a hard time getting it back.
With a last glance at the half-finished letter upon the desk, Nathanial moved toward the window and watched the rain come pouring down like a torrent, the sky a dark gray smudge hanging over the world. Wind whipped through the gardens, shaking the trees and pushing against the tall hedges, bending them to its will.
He had meant to be off countless times. And yet, every day, he found a reason to stay. Or rather, a reason not to leave. Was this awful weather a bad omen? Nathanial almost scoffed at the mere thought. Never had he believed in such things. It was not an omen that held him back, but rather an icy lump settling in his belly.
What if he returned to Markham Hall? Would Charlaine send him away? What if he could not find the words to explain himself, to apologize? Would he ruin everything by hastening back?
For days, Nathanial had mulled over these thoughts again and again, not reaching a satisfying conclusion. It seemed there was no right or wrong, and no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to predict the outcome of his actions. Would his hesitation be his undoing in the end? Would she believe him indifferent and unappreciative of her friendship?
Nathanial heaved a deep sigh. What was he to do?
Footsteps echoed to his ears then, small and delicate, but moving fast, moving with excitement. A moment later, the door to his brother’s study flew open. “Is it not wonderful?” Abigail exclaimed, joy resonating in every word as she moved to his side, her gaze fixed on the rain hitting the windowpane. “It is magnificent!”
Gazing down at her, Nathanial watched as she drew in a slow breath, her eyes wide and eager as she continued to stare out the window. A smile teased its way up onto his face. “Then go,” he told her. “No one is stopping you.”
Her head swung around, her wide, blue eyes finding his. “No one?” she asked dumbfounded, her gaze whispering of disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Nathanial shrugged, then turned his gaze back out the window, that smile still on his face.
Facing him more directly, Abigail watched him, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I cannot believe you’re saying this,” she exclaimed, her voice still ringing with incredulity. “You’ve always been so proper, intent on doing everything just right, never daring to step outside of what is appropriate.” She turned her back to the window, her eyes settling more fully upon his face. “You’ve changed,” she whispered, her gaze growing thoughtful. “You’re different somehow.” She glanced over her shoulder at the pouring rain. “And now, you’re urging me to go outside in the rain?”
Nathanial met her gaze. “Don’t you want to?”
“Of course, I do!”
“Then what’s stopping y−?”
Her arms crossed over her chest. “You never supported my silly fancies as my father called them,” she told him with a huff. “You too thought them silly and childish and−”
“You’re right,” Nathanial interrupted her. “I’ve changed. Now, do you want to go outside?” His gaze held hers, and yet, he did not see her.
For a precious little moment, he saw Charlaine. He saw her exuberant smile and those dark eyes of hers, more often than not lit up with a wicked gleam. Always had she swept him along, not giving him a chance to think things through. More than once, he had tumbled head-first into something he would never have considered had he had time to think on it.
Charlaine, however, had never given him that time, and she had been right not to do so.
“Are you saying you want to come along?” Abigail asked, her jaw dropping in a way that made Nathanial realize he had never known her true self.
Grinning, he grasped her hand, then turned around and pulled her along. They went down the corridor, their steps rushed, eager, impatient, guiding them to the drawing room. There, Nathanial stopped in front of the large French doors and pulled them open.
The sound of pouring rain filled the room, almost deafening to their ears.
“You’re insane,” Abigail gasped as she watched him kick off his shoes, laughter drifting from her lips, her eyes lighting up with something utterly indescribable.
Bending down to pull of his socks, Nathanial looked up at her. “Well?”
Her chest rose and fell once, twice as her wide, blue eyes continued to stare at him. Then she threw her head back and laughed before rushing to rid herself of her own footwear.
Nathanial held out his hand to her. “Ready?”
Grinning, Abigail nodded. “I cannot believe we’re doing this,” she mumbled, then slid her hand into his.
A moment later, they stepped out into the rain together.
Nathanial felt its drumming force upon his head and shoulders, his clothes soaking through within moments. Abigail screamed in delight, her shoulders slightly hunched as she took step after step, tentative at first. Then, however, all restraint fell from her and she began to twirl in a circle, her arms spread as she tilted her face toward the sky, her eyes closed in bliss.
Staring at her, Nathanial felt his thoughts travel back to the night of the masquerade. Once again, he saw Charlaine and remembered his own hesitant step out into a world that had always seemed utterly foreign to him.
But it did no longer. He felt free now, free to do as he pleased, free to admit to himself what he wanted, free to grant it to others.
Looking at Abigail, Nathanial remembered their childhood days.
When they had still been friends.
Long before his proposal.
Long before life had pushed them down a pre-determined path.
And in that moment, as he stared at Abigail in the rain, the look upon her face speaking of a joy he had never before seen in her, Nathanial thought that perhaps Abigail had been right to rebel.
Perhaps she had been right to break free.
Perhaps in doing so, she had saved him from a life he had never realized he did not want.