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Chapter 21: The Boy Who Would Never Grow Up
It had been nearly three weeks since Arthur's visit, and James was starved for news of Louise. Charlotte told him to be patient. Wasn't better if they didn't hear anything?
But James appeared close to obsession. No one else could understand how he felt about Louise. He owed her so much. She had been the constant mediator in his fights with Arthur about Spiritualism, writing, and moral responsibility. At the same time, he was overcome with guilt over his promise to keep Arthur's affair with Jean a secret. James had been reluctant not to tell Louise, but he had given Arthur his word, and that was sacred. He hoped desperately that Louise would not find out about the double life her husband had been leading for almost ten years.
Charlotte was outside with the boys when the news came. James would not have found out that day if it hadn't been for an argument he had with Charles just months before.
Charles relentlessly pressured his friend into having a telephone installed in the cottage. For emergencies only, of course. James reluctantly agreed, and braced himself for the flood of calls that would undoubtedly come from London almost every day. But for once, Charles honored his friends' insistent pleas for privacy. The telephone was indeed reserved for emergencies.
Now, as James sat listening to Arthur's hysterical voice over the wire, he was glad he had listened to what turned out to be sound advice. He would have to remember to thank Charles one day.
"We'll be there right away," James said. ""We'll just take the boys home first and get to Surrey as soon as we can."
"This is it, James. This is really the end. I don't know what to do."
"Just hold on. Tell her we're coming."
"I will. And James, hurry."
James went to the door and called Charlotte and the children inside. He hoped they hadn't gone too far, because then he would have to go and look for them, and they certainly would not leave by that evening. Thankfully, they did hear him. The boys trailed in, Peter last with the cat right behind him. Then Charlotte, with Porthos trotting dutifully at her heels. She saw the look on James' face and sent the boys to their room.
"Louise is dying."
"Oh, James. I'm so sorry."
"Arthur wants us there right away."
"Of course."
"I'm going to pack."
Charlotte went to George and explained as much as she could. He would be able to tell his brothers without exposing them to what James and Charlotte were going through. Besides, she had to be with James all the time, to calm him down and think through things for him.
She found him sitting on his bed with his walking stick, already having forgotten to pack his socks. After repacking his suitcase, Charlotte found her own and began feverishly throwing things into it. She helped the boys pack, got them into the car with Porthos, Tiger Lily, and all of the luggage, and went back to get her husband.
He was still in exactly the same place as she had left him. She touched him gently on the arm. "It's time to go, darling."
He looked around at her. "I suppose we ought to get the boys."
"They're all in the car. Everything is ready."
He stood up. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Charlotte."
She blushed. "I'm sure you'd manage perfectly well. You did."
"No I didn't. Don't try to dismiss your value to me." He touched her cheek. Just then, George called to him from outside.
"I suppose we'd better go," Charlotte said.
"Yes, I suppose so."
Neither of them moved. James wanted to stay there forever and look into her eyes. Finally, she shook her head. He dropped his hand, and they both moved to the door.
They talked little during the ride to London. The roads were muddy from the previous night's rain, and James had to concentrate.
When they finally arrived home, the boys and the animals ran inside, leaving James and Charlotte to take care of the luggage. They dropped the suitcases just inside the door, said goodbye to the boys, and left before Mrs. du Maurier had the chance to inquire about the slight, but unusual plumpness that she thought she noticed in Charlotte's face.
James and Charlotte took a carriage to the train station. On the way there, they sat across from each other and stared out the window. When they arrived, Charlotte excused herself to use the lavatory. James waited for her on a bench.
"Did you get the tickets?" she asked when she cam back.
"Yes. The train will be here in five minutes."
They walked briskly to the platform. As they stood waiting for the train, James asked, "What happened earlier? Before we left the cottage, I mean. Why did you act that way?"
She sighed. "The moment just wasn't right for me, James. Do you understand?"
"Of course," he said, though he was still slightly hurt.
"I'm sorry. I don't know how else to say it. I was impatient to leave. I don't know why."
"Why are you always trying to contradict me when I give you a compliment?"
"I'm only being modest."
"Yes, that's how you're supposed to be in public, and you're wonderful at it. But sometimes, I want you not to be modest. It's not a social situation when we're together. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I don't know what's the matter with me right now. Nothing that can't be fixed, I suppose. I won't let it happen again."
"You shouldn't say that. If it isn't right, don't force yourself to feel—"
"Oh, it isn't that. It just—I—you caught me off guard, that's all. Sometimes it's hard to forget everything all at once like I was supposed to."
"Oh, that's certainly true."
"I do love you."
"I know that."
"Well, perhaps when I'm not so preoccupied—"
"No, you have a right to be. And besides, it's highly improbable that we'll both be able to empty our heads at the same instant—what is it?" he asked, perplexed. Charlotte's hand was pressed tightly over her mouth, stifling a giggle.
"It's just, sometimes, you get so dreadfully—pedantic," she gasped, "and I almost start to take you seriously!"
"I apologize. I had no idea—"
"Don't worry. It's actually quite an endearing quality." She smiled mischievously at him. He loved that smile. It made her look completely carefree and innocent. But that was only an illusion. A clever façade. Because of him, her innocence was lost forever and she had far more worries than she deserved.
"Endearing, is it? I'll give you endearing!" And he kissed her, right there on the platform as the train came up and people began to get off.
When they finished, Charlotte's eyes darted to the shocked onlookers whose heads immediately turned in the other direction, but her smile was wider than ever. Regardless of all the problems he may have caused, she had never known more happiness than she did with him.
"Last call," the conductor shouted. Several people hurried forward, but they all moved aside so that James and Charlotte could board first. Apparently, no one wanted to associate with the couple for whom public displays of affection were so commonplace.
This suited them perfectly, however. Apart from the conductor occasionally peeking into their compartment, James and Charlotte did not have to bother with the stares of the other passengers. They sat next to each other and talked about everything from flowers to what brand of pen James favored.
In what seemed like no time at all, the conductor appeared (looking quite embarrassed, for some reason) to tell them that they would be arriving in Surrey in ten minutes. Charlotte turned quickly to look out the window. James watched her, amused.
"I've never been in Surrey before," she said excitedly. She looked around at him again. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, everything's fine. Why do you ask?"
"You have a very curious expression on your face."
"Do I?"
"Well, it's nothing, really. I suppose I imagined it. But for a moment it looked as though—" she broke off, not trusting herself to tell him exactly what she had just seen.
"Are you going to tell me, or not?"
"It's nothing, honestly," she insisted.
"All right then."
Just then the conductor entered again to inform them that they were arriving at the train station. Charlotte smiled as she picked up her hat and coat. For one brief moment, she had been sitting next to a boy who would never grow up.