A week later a soft knock sounded at Charlotte’s bedroom door. When she opened the door, a maid curtsied and held out a tray. “If you please miss, a letter. And Mrs. Cliff wishes to speak with you.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, taking the letters with haste. “Call my abigail, will you?”
Once Ellen arrived and started preparing her hair, Charlotte broke open the seal and read the contents of the first letter. In every line, Christopher fumed in anger that she’d fled to Northumberland, and he demanded she return to Town, sure that taking a quick leave of London had only cast suspicion on himself and the family. He said he’d smoothed it over the best he could and gloated about how he was officially courting a Lady Eloise, daughter of the Duke of Chelsea. At least in that he was preoccupied. And at least he hadn’t threatened to come retrieve Charlotte.
If he cared so much about rank and status, he could take on himself the burden of elevating their name. When had she and her brother grown so different? She’d never been as interested in titles and ranks as he was. Couldn’t he see how much value the people right around them had? People like the local musicians and artisans—and mine employees, she added, like Alex. She folded the paper once again, attempting to put Christopher and Alex out of her mind at present.
Here, in Northumberland, she would not let her brother sink his clutches into her.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said to Ellen when the last hairpin was placed. She made her way to the drawing room and instructed a servant to send for the housekeeper.
Mrs. Cliff closed the door to the drawing room behind her. “I thought you’d wish to know how our Margaret fares.”
“Still confused?” Charlotte whispered.
“Yes, but I think her memory is coming back.”
“And the doctor?”
“He said that, physically, she is healing well.”
“I asked Mrs. Laurence if she’d heard about anyone looking for Margaret, but so far, she hasn’t heard anything.”
“And I haven’t heard anything either,” Mrs. Cliff responded. “She’s still quite addled. When she was warming her hands by the grate yesterday, she was mumbling something about, ‘’Tis a wood fire, not coal. That’s a fine thing. ’Tis coal that’s cruel.’ I’ve noticed she shakes a great deal, too, especially when it’s evening or the fire sputters.”
“I see,” Charlotte replied. She thought for a moment. “Could you see that Cook prepares a great picnic tomorrow? I want to take the boys on an adventure. And could you tell Margaret I wish her to come, for I’ll need an extra hand with the boys?”
“As you say.” Mrs. Cliff nodded.
Charlotte wondered if someone out there was wondering about Margaret. If they were making inquiries in different places than Charlotte, how would they ever connect? Margaret needed to regain her memory.
Perhaps a day in the sunshine would improve the woman’s health or even help her recollect something of her past.
***
“Did you see the food basket?” Charlotte called to Walter as they raced down the steps to the carriage the next morning.
“I did!” Walter exclaimed, licking his lips.
George and Joseph joined them from behind, each carrying a fishing pole over his shoulder.
“If we run out of food,” George called, “I expect you to catch us a feast!”
Walter turned, his eyes fixating on the long poles. “I do love fishing!”
Charlotte laughed and transferred her closed parasol to her other side as she pulled the small boy into a half hug as they stood beside the carriage. “It shall be splendid.” She looked from Walter’s wide eyes to Joseph’s gangly frame and then to George’s broad one and motioned them a little closer. “We shall also have another guest.”
Walter’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “It isn’t a girl, is it?”
“Well, a young lady,” Charlotte said softly. “My friend Margaret is in need of some sun and a pleasant day free of worries. Will you be your best selves around her?”
George placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Of course!” Charlotte had explained her plan to him yesterday, and he had assured her they’d make the day enjoyable for all parties.
Dressed in serviceable light-blue muslin, Margaret approached them from inside the house. George gallantly walked to her and extended an arm, and then he handed both ladies into the carriage.
Once everyone was situated, tight though it was with the five of them, Charlotte smiled and explained to her brothers, “The carriage will take us to the lake on the other side of the trees, and we’ll walk home when we are finished. The servants will collect our catch, if there is any, and the remaining materials then.”
“If there is any?” Joseph shook his head. He dashed his hand across his knee. “Have some faith, sister!”
“I am going to catch at least three!” Walter cheered in his high voice, raising his clenched fist into the air and in the process knocking Joseph into George.
At this sudden outburst, a faint smile graced Margaret’s lips. She said nothing, and shortly after, her face clouded, but Charlotte triumphed that the woman’s burden might have lessened a degree. Her brothers—at least, her younger ones—often had that effect on her too.
Once the party had eaten, on the part of the ladies, or devoured, on the part of the boys, the cold meats, grapes, cheeses, bread, and glasses of cordial punch, Charlotte sought for a way to speak with Margaret. “Margaret, would you care to take a walk with me while the boys go about their fishing?”
“Indeed, miss,” Margaret responded, rising from her blanket.
George, ever aware as usual, called his brothers near and started preparing the tackle and hooks for their fishing. Charlotte couldn’t help but grin as Walter hung on every movement of his strong, capable older brothers and chattered incessantly, asking every question imaginable about angling.
The two women walked in silence a little while around the edge of the lake, until Charlotte inquired, “How do you fare? Do you still have headaches?”
“Less, miss. Me ’ead is feelin’ almost right again.”
“I am glad to hear it. And do you find you have any more memories about where you came from?”
Charlotte watched Margaret’s eyes dart from side to side. “I, um . . .” She coughed. “No, miss.” Her shifty mannerisms, with her pursed lips and trembling hands, weren’t lost on Charlotte.
“You can tell me the truth,” Charlotte urged. “I won’t hold any of it against you.” Even as she said it, however, she wondered at her words. Could she be loving enough to accept anything Margaret might say? What if there was some dreadful secret this woman was keeping? The reminder that Charlotte ought not to associate with anyone unworthy rang in her mind. Christopher would certainly expect as much. But he wasn’t here today, and she need not answer to him.
Margaret persisted in her silence. They walked farther, making it all the way to the other side of the pond, near a small hill and the main road that led toward Newcastle.
Finally Charlotte could endure the silence no longer. “Is it, perhaps, that you are unhappy with your past? If you are wanting a change, I am willing to help you.”
Margaret swallowed. “Not unhappy, miss.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I’m scared.”
A cold shiver penetrated Charlotte’s limbs. “Would you feel comfortable telling me more?”
Margaret’s head shook decidedly, and Charlotte immediately reached out to take Margaret’s hands in her own. She inclined her head until the woman’s reluctant gaze came into her own. “Do you wish to run away from it forever?”
Margaret’s slight shoulders cowered. “I think so, miss.”
Charlotte thought about what she could offer. She had the ability to hire Margaret permanently, didn’t she? Especially in the absence of her mother and Christopher? This was yet one more way she wished to establish herself as independent. She gestured to the shade under a tree nearby and suggested they sit.
“Margaret,” she began, “I am willing to provide a station for you here and offer you protection, but I do feel it is wise for me to know more about your past before I do so.” She patted the woman’s hand. “I realize it is painful, but can you tell me a little of where you’ve come from?”
A glimmer of hope coupled with an uncertain, quivering lip manifested on Margaret’s face. She studied Charlotte’s countenance for a long time before answering. “I still can’t remember everythin’, but it was the fire that reminded me. The burned wood looks like coals. I remembered I went to work in the mines.”
“In the mines? They allow women—” Charlotte choked on her words, realizing how little she knew of what happened in a mine. Alex’s stinging remarks flashed in her memory. She really was ignorant of went on there.
“Yes. ’Tis not the most well-looked-on place for a woman.” Margaret hung her head. “I can’t remember it all, but I remember feelin’ destitute, and they’re always lookin’ fer workers. Me mum did it for a bit, so I went there.”
“What . . . ?” Charlotte tried to mask her shock. “What did you do there?”
“I had the fortune of bein’ above ground, haulin’ coal. Me mum worked b’sides the men in them shafts. They like the smaller women and children best, and they can pay ’em less than the men.”
It was fortunate to haul coal? Charlotte couldn’t hide her shudder this time. “You are strong enough to have done such work?”
“It ain’t about bein’ strong, miss. It’s about doin’ what they expect. Everybody knows you get your work done and don’t complain ’bout them heavy loads. Each person’s got to earn their wages, see.”
Charlotte’s mouth filled with an acrid taste. It seemed these people, even women and children, were viewed as commodities. “And then what happened? Were you injured? How did you come to be where I found you?”
“That I can’t recall. Much of my time there I can’t yet place, miss. ’Tis strange, ’cause I can remember most of me childhood, but then it goes all fuzzy. All I know is I don’t want to return.”
Charlotte leaned back, processing Margaret’s sad tale. How much hardship had this woman endured? She must have been injured in the mine. No wonder she was scared.
Across the lake she saw George’s thick arms and Joseph’s not-as-strong ones wrestling with a large trout. She thought she saw a few more fish in a pile near them, but it seemed that Walter’s excitement had waned, for he was halfway around her side of the lake, skipping rocks on a flat part of the shore nearest the road. She should return to them, but with Margaret’s memories so raw, she felt she owed the woman a bit more time before they rejoined the rest of their party.
“I thank you, Margaret, for that information.” She smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. “I know it is not easy to speak of such things. I wish to find you a better placement than in those awful mines. There may be more parts of your past that you remember, and even if we find you a permanent situation here, that information is important.”
Margaret still looked uneasy, but she nodded. “I thank ye, miss. I promise to work hard while I’m here. Nothin’ pays like them wages at the mine, but as long as I have food to eat, it will be better here.”
Charlotte smiled. “And you promise you’ll tell me more of your past if you recall anything?”
Margaret hesitated, cowering like a mouse backing into a hole. “Yes, miss, I shall.”
Charlotte rose from her place, brushing off her skirts, and Margaret did the same. Shielding her eyes and staring across the lake, Charlotte chuckled. “Seems they did all right with their catch after all.”
Margaret nodded, but a scream echoed across the distance. Charlotte’s eyes darted to where she’d last seen Walter. Ripples raced across the lake, and white splashes of water coupled with arms flailing around confirmed her fear.
Lifting her skirts, she bolted around the lake toward his location, but the slope of the hill was steep and cumbersome. George and Joseph seemed consumed with a recent catch and hadn’t appeared to hear Walter’s cry.
“George! Joseph!” she shouted across the long stretch of the lake, but neither looked in her direction. She stumbled forward, catching her toe in her dress and ripping the hem. At this rate, she’d never reach Walter in time. Going through the water, too, would prove risky, for she doubted her ability to stay afloat in her heavy skirts, let alone drag him back to the shore.
Again she called toward her other brothers, to no avail. Somewhere behind her she heard Margaret coming, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Walter. The little arms and head continued to flail about in the water, but the longer it took for her to rush toward him, the more his movements slowed. “Walter!”
Finally George’s head whipped around from the far edge of the pond. Charlotte stumbled over a large, protruding rock, and fell, the edge of another stone slicing her palm. Ignoring the stinging sensation, she bolted back to her feet, but the water had turned still.
She neared the edge of the lake just as someone else strode through the water. His coat was off, and he was waist-deep already. Her pounding heart gained hope that Walter wouldn’t be lost. The man plunged into the water at the spot Charlotte had seen the last ripple, and she offered a silent plea that he would find Walter before it was too late. After what felt like ages, Walter’s limp brown hair emerged, cradled in the man’s elbow.
The man’s partially turned face was covered by his own wet hair, and once he could stand, he spat out some water and trudged to the grassy bank, immediately turning Walter on his side and slapping him forcefully and repeatedly on the back. Charlotte rushed to the bank nearest them, still out of breath and anxious.
Walter’s ashen face spewed liquid, and then he gasped. Charlotte fell to her knees and reached for her brother’s cold, limp hand. “Dear Walter,” she said, bringing his cold hand to her flushed cheek. Without even looking at her brother’s rescuer, she cradled Walter’s head near her heart.
Walter sputtered again, more water spewing out, and Charlotte had never been so glad to hear such a wretched sound. George and Joseph ran up to her, crowding next to Walter, uttering apologies and exclamations of every kind. Somewhere in the background she noticed Margaret giving the siblings space to help Walter. George listened for the boy’s breathing and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Together the three of them squeezed and hugged one another. After a few moments, Walter’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared back at them, dazed.
Charlotte turned her head toward Walter’s rescuer, but he was already at his horse, wiping his face with a kerchief, his jacket laid across the animal’s withers. He placed one foot in the stirrup, ready to mount again. Charlotte left Walter to the care of her brothers and walked quickly toward the man.
“Please don’t go,” she called. The man stopped moving, but she could see only a fraction of his countenance as he paused. “We all wish to thank you.” She continued toward him, extending a hand. The man did not turn, but he also didn’t swing his leg over the saddle.
“I was happy to help,” he said, facing the horse’s flank and returning his foot to the ground.
Charlotte was near enough now that something about his profile, though wet and disheveled, was familiar. “Please, how can we repay—”
The man finally turned toward her. Alex stood before her, as he’d done so many times when they were young: strong, steady, an anchor—a friend.
He had saved Walter.
A rush of gratitude, relief, and need surged within her. Her anger toward him weeks ago disappeared entirely, and she rushed toward him, but before she reached him, her brain righted itself and she stilled, managing a few breathless words. “You’re here.”
His eyes locked with hers. “I’m here,” he whispered.
Her mind was half-focused on the miracle of what he had accomplished and half-distracted by his strong jaw and confident eyes. Her eager mouth continued without deference to decorum. “How are you here?” It came out too shrill, almost like an accusation, and she immediately wished she could take back her tone.
His eyes turned hard. “Here I am, saving the life of your littlest brother, whom I’ve never even met, and you chose to berate me—”
“No.” She tried to focus her words on kindness and ignore the way his strong hand grasped the reins of his horse. “I’m not angry you are here. He would have drowned without you.” She twisted at her skirt, and her words came too fast. “Actually, I’ve wished to apologize for the rude way I spoke to you in the woods. And I am so grateful for your service to Walter. I just didn’t expect to see you, that is all. That is what I meant, and—”
“All right. You’ve proved your point. Now might I suggest you take a moment to breathe before you continue?” His mouth pulled into a slight smile as he analyzed her. He relaxed and shook some water from his shirtsleeves.
Charlotte’s mind raced. Why couldn’t she control her tongue? And when she glanced at him again, he had the gall to chuckle at her.
“As I can see I’ve disarmed your words momentarily, might I mention that this road”—he pointed behind him—“is not your land. It is the common route between Alnwick and Newcastle, and like most people trying to get from one place to another, I took said road.” He smiled ruefully.
“Naturally.” Charlotte sighed, relieved at his light tone and embarrassed by her hasty remarks. She found it much easier to turn and glance at her brothers and now Margaret, who’d joined the group, than to continue to notice the handsome, witty, and attractively disheveled man before her.
“The least we could do is give you a change of dry clothes,” she said over her shoulder. “Would you accompany us back home? We were going to walk—”
“But you wish Walter could have the use of my horse? Absolutely. I’ll take him back to the castle straightway.”
He’d read her mind. It was that uncanny trait of his that took her off guard and yet somehow made her wish he could always be near. How did he do it? How did he seem to understand her so fully when they’d known each other as children and only briefly as adults?
She turned and smiled at him, and the smile his eyes conveyed was inviting and comfortable and dangerous all in one. “Thank you ever so much.”
Together they returned to Charlotte’s brothers and explained their plan.
George nodded and extended his hand to Alex. “Our many thanks. You’ve done today what we as older brothers should have.”
Joseph eyed him more warily but nodded in agreement with George.
“Walter,” Charlotte said softly in her youngest brother’s ear. “Mr. Jenkins will take you back. We will follow right behind.”
George lifted the weak, waterlogged boy up to the saddle, and Charlotte watched in amazement as Alex gently cradled Walter’s limp body in his arms while still managing the reins.
“Are you determined to loathe him still, Joseph?” George asked when Alex was out of earshot.
“After this I daresay none of us can loathe him completely,” Joseph conceded.
George looked in her direction, but Charlotte said nothing.
She had thought Alex gone from Northumberland, but he was here once again, running across her path. Her own determination, which had been to forget him, evaporated. She was far more worried she was growing fonder of him than ever.