Thanks for all the review love. I know she hasn't really been in this story before (or at least not in person), and I'm not even sure that what I wrote about her before is consistent with this chapter (I didn't go back to check, but will fix it in editing later if I decide to publish this story), but it was time for Charlotte to make an appearance as she wants to chase her HEA too. Then we get to spend a little time with Mary and Henry. We will get back to Charlie and Jane, and Elizabeth and Darcy in the following chapter.

XXXIV

Charlotte Lucas lived alone in the city but for her three cats, Argyle, Paisley and Tartan. Argyle was a large elderly female calico who had originally lived with her parents. In the winter, Argyle slept all day long in front of the heating vent.

Paisley was a small black female with golden eyes who Charlotte had rescued from a shelter. During the day, she was slow to approach Charlotte when she was home. Paisley always disappeared under Charlotte's bed whenever she had guests over. In the middle of the night, sometimes Paisley woke Charlotte up by trying to attack Charlotte's toes through the bedding.

Tartan was a friendly orange male cat who liked to sit on the window ledge and crunch his mouth while watching birds alight on the balcony. Charlotte had gotten him from in front of a convenience store where a woman sat with several kittens in a box. He was the only cat of the three who would come when she called his name. He had lawn mower sounding purr when he curled up on Charlotte's lap.

On the day of the Bennet-Bingley wedding, Charlotte got off work earlier, set her cats up with plenty of dry food and water, and then changed for the wedding before driving to her parents' house. The plan was for her to have a convenient place to crash after the reception.

At about 5:30 pm, Charlotte walked over to the Bennets' house with her parents, William (who everyone called "Wally" after his middle name of Walter) and Sally, her sister Maria and brother Jack. This was early enough that the five of them were able to snag seats three rows back to watch the ceremony.

Charlotte got the desirable aisle seat, which offered the best view of the proceedings. While normally her mother or father would have wanted that seat, her mother insisted, "You should sit there, Charlotte. You did a good job of fixing yourself up today and any single men will notice you better from here."

Charlotte did her best to ignore her mother's somewhat humiliating reasoning, thanking her mother even as she was thinking to herself, Don't I normally look nice? and Stop treating me like I'm a horse set out for auction.

Charlotte watched with interest as Charles Bingley and his groomsmen appeared. What was Charlie thinking in picking out those suits? We are not in Britain and even there, they wear ties and not ascots with their morning suits and that look doesn't fit at all with what the bridesmaids are wearing. And what's with those ridiculous pink waistcoats? This isn't like the prom back in the 80s where guys had to be all matchy-matchy with their cumberbunds and bow ties the exact color of their dates' dresses!

She laughed with the rest of the guests when Bingley's phone began to ring: Has he heard of turning his phone to vibrate? What if it rang in the middle of the ceremony with that spam call everyone has been getting about the factory warranty on their car being expired? I wonder if he picked that song for Jane, or if Jane picked it out for him.

Charlotte was impressed but not surprised at how beautiful the bride was when she finally appeared. Jane's always so gorgeous and that gown is just right, just like I knew it would be; I wish I could have such perfect features and what I wouldn't give for that hair! Charlotte had suggested the very dress that Jane wore as a compromise between the huge, princess-style ball gown with an elaborate train that Mrs. Bennet had wanted, and the more simple A-line that Jane had favored. When Charlotte's mother oohed and awed over the dress to Charlotte and speculated about how much it must have cost, Charlotte kept silent although she knew the answer.

Charlotte was a buyer for an upscale department store, and paid a lot of attention to fashion, dressing well herself though in an understated fashion. Her philosophy of dress was, "You should wear the clothes; the clothes should not be wearing you," by which she meant that clothes were to enhance the person rather than the other way around. She knew the cuts and colors that looked best on her and could put together a good outfit for almost anyone even at a thrift store.

Her mother's philosophy of clothes buying was "Buy the most expensive clothes you can, so that you can impress your friends and make them envious." Mrs. Lucas never listened when Charlotte tried to give her fashion advice. In a nod to her mother's esthetic, Charlotte had bought a high end brand sheath dress with a matching coat that nipped in at her waist just right, for the wedding. It was a silk blend in a pretty peach tone.

When the wedding began, Charlotte paid more attention to the couple's evident adoration of one another than the words that were said (when not distracted by photographer darting around like a fly trapped in a car). But she also took note of the single groomsmen. Although she wished her mother wasn't always trying to push her to date, Charlotte did want to meet someone. It just didn't help to be told things like, "If you don't marry soon, you are going to have a real problem having children," or "All the good ones your age are taken; if you don't want to be left an old maid you need to lower your standards."

Charlotte didn't want to be married just for marriage's sake. She had a well paying job and lived comfortably within her means. She didn't have to marry, but she did want to marry if she could find someone who looked at her the way that Charlie looked at Jane.

While she wanted to have a child (just one), she wasn't one of these women who had to have a child, who viewed that achievement as some kind of pinnacle experience of womanhood. Charlotte could definitely see the advantage of never having kids, of having that freedom to travel and spontaneously stay out late. While she adored her cats, it was easy enough to leave them for a day or two, or hire someone to check on them once a day if she was going to be out of town longer.

Charlotte definitely did not want to be raising someone else's children, to always have to be dealing with the ex-wife. This eliminated a fair amount of divorcees that her mother tried to push on her.

While Charlotte enjoyed the wedding, she was looked forward to the reception even more. Elizabeth had told her at lunch the week before, "Jane decided against having a wedding party table in favor of just a table with Charlie. That means we can have you at the same table with me and Mary and we won't have to sit with Caroline."

"Terrific! Any chance you can get a couple of cute single guys by me there, too?"

"You bet; at least one and I know just who it should be," Elizabeth had replied, "David Wilson." She then went on to describe the groomsman. "He is maybe 5'10" with light brown hair. He is good looking in a more understated way. He seems to be on the quiet side, but nice. Charlie's told us he got out of a serious relationship about six months ago; she was apparently very high maintenance and he could never please her, and then on top of that, she cheated on him with a grocery store bag boy of all people, who had just turned 19."

"Oh my!"

Elizabeth explained, "It was an ongoing thing apparently. She'd show up near the end of his shift. He'd bag her groceries and then she'd be waiting for him in the parking lot when he got off."

"Yikes," Charlotte exclaimed, feeling sympathy for David, "what a nightmare. Poor guy."

"Yeah, that whole thing about the bag boy, Charlie probably shouldn't have told us, or me you, but I wanted for you to know, so you know that it wasn't David's fault and I really think he is looking to move on. Charlie had apparently wanted to set him up with Mary before she started dating Henry. Professionally, David's successful; he's an attorney who just made partner; he specializes in workers' comp."

After the dove flew off and the bride and groom exited, Charlotte watched as the groomsmen walked by her, paying particular attention to the man escorting Mary back toward the tent, who could be no one other than David.

"Oh why couldn't you have been a bridesmaid?" Charlotte's mom lamented loudly enough for guests nearby to turn in her direction.

"Mom, we've been over this before," Charlotte answered softly, trying to keep the worst of her annoyance out of her voice. "All the bridesmaids at this wedding are sisters of the groom or bride; there are no friends at all on Jane's side. Jane even apologized that she couldn't ask me."

Her mother didn't get the hint from Charlotte's quieter response and her voice grew even louder as she insisted, "But still, you've known Jane forever, and if you were up there, well all of Charles Bingley's single friends could have noticed you!"

They are noticing me now, though, Charlotte thought, as the desperate spinster daughter of an obnoxious mother. Can't she be quiet?

"Weddings are an excellent place to meet men," Sally Lucas continued. "They are a single woman's single best opportunity to meet an appropriate man. Why, that's how I met your father."

Charlotte remained silent. Surely if I don't say anything, eventually she will stop talking.

"You would have looked great in one of those halter neck dresses, would have filled it out better than Eliza or that red headed girl. What is going on with her anyway? Is she going to walk back down the aisle or not?"

"Not now, I'm guessing," Charlotte replied as he watched Mr. Bennet maneuver his mother down the aisle in a wheel chair. Following him were Mrs. Bennet, the Gardiners with their four children, the Phillipses and a vaguely familiar heavy-set man.

While the Lucases stood and waited for it to be their row's turn, Charlotte looked over at the last bridesmaid. She had a feeling something was wrong.

Charlotte watched as the short but handsome Hispanic? groomsman handed a tissue to the red-headed bridesmaid. Charlotte knew she was one of Charlie's sisters, but Charlotte couldn't remember the woman's name. The bridesmaid promptly started rubbing the tissue against her hand. The groomsman said something to her and then she started shaking her head, "no," as if that hadn't worked. The man walked away, in the direction where the minister had been standing earlier. Then he came back with a water bottle.

"Charlotte, hurry up now," her mom directed, "it is our turn."

Charlotte pulled her eyes away from the curious scene of the groomsman pouring water on Caroline's hands as she rubbed them together, the water splashing onto the grass below, and Charlotte turned to walk down the aisle. Charlotte was still wondering what she had seen when they reached the tent where the cocktail hour had commenced.

Charlotte got in the line already forming for the bar, with her father, mother and sister just behind her (Jack had already run off to find some other teens). After only a short wait, she had a drink in one hand and a small plate of appealing hors d'oeuvres in her other hand and was on her way to table four.

However, when Charlotte got there, she found it empty. Charlotte shrugged, sat down on one of the two chairs currently at the table (she guessed someone was supposed to move them over from the ceremony, but knew it wasn't her job) and happily got to munching and drinking, figuring she should enjoy herself before she had to eat more daintily.

Everything was as delicious as it looked, which didn't surprise Charlotte in the least as her mother had insisted on giving her a blow-by-blow account of all the wedding planning details she'd heard from Mrs. Bennet, which included her husband's ultimatum that she could have the best caterer in town or a professional wedding planner to coordinate the whole day, but she couldn't have both. As Charlotte savored the olive tapanada and the brie, she was certain that Mrs. Bennet had made the right choice.

Unfortunately, the table didn't stay empty for long. Mrs. Bennet came by with the man from before. "Sit here, Bill," Mrs. Bennet told the man that Charlotte now recognized as being Eliza's cousin, Bill Collins; the one she always complained was super annoying and empty-headed. "I was just talking to your parents, dear, and Sally thought I should bring Bill by to meet you." And then addressing Bill she noted, "Charlotte is single and she would love to entertain you."

Charlotte wanted to protest. This kind of "help" was exactly what she didn't need. Bill would function to repel any guy she actually wanted to meet, but Mrs. Bennet practically ran off the second after they were introduced.

Bill pulled out the seat next to Charlotte and began blathering about some woman. At first, Charlotte thought he was talking about someone he was dating, then she thought he was talking about someone he had a crush on, but finally she learned that he was actually talking about his boss. It was so "ewe" and gag-worthy.

Charlotte's one consolation was the thought that when the dinner started, Bill would surely have to move to the table which had the card with his name. However, as she did not want to spend the next possible hour with Bill, Charlotte excused herself, went back to the bar and, when suitably armed with another drink, ventured outside of the tent.

Charlotte spotted Mary with her date, with Mary wearing Henry's suit coat over her dress. Charlotte went over to talk to them for a bit. After the preliminaries which included Charlotte commenting how lovely Mary looked and how lovely the wedding was, and then a quick review of her encounter with Bill, Charlotte asked Mary, "Do you know where Eliza is? I've got to tell her about the whole thing with Bill and see about getting an introduction to David."

Mary shrugged, "The last time I saw her she was with Darcy and they were heading into the house. She said she was going to the bathroom and he said he was next in line, said something about drinking too much water, but as they haven't made it back yet, they are probably holed up inside, in her old room, making out. The attendants were all told to wait outside the tent for more photos after the photographer is finished with the newlyweds but . . . ."

"But you are the only one really doing that, aren't you?" Charlotte noted.

"Yeah, pretty much, although I do see David moving chairs and I suppose maybe we should help him."

"No need. Don't waste this night. Who knows if the photographer will get back to you or not or when? I'm sure you've been run pretty ragged by now. Why not enjoy yourselves? I can help him for a bit and then get some other people to pitch in." Charlotte suggested.

"Thanks Charlotte," Mary replied. While she realized she didn't really need permission to enjoy herself, somehow it helped to be given it, nevertheless.

Charlotte excused herself and then headed toward the man in the white shirt who was folding up chairs who she was pretty sure was David. She was determined not to waste her night and instead make her own introduction to him. She didn't mind helping move a few chairs if it meant she might have someone to dance with later.

Charlotte's conversation had caused a brief lull in Mary's conversation with Henry, so Mary went back to munching on a fruit kabob while he ate a date wrapped in bacon. It was comfortable, companionable, but Mary wanted more. She very much wanted to follow Charlotte's advice to not waste this night, but she didn't want to spell everything out to Henry. Was is so wrong to want the man to be the man?

When they finished the appetizers on their plates and Mary had politely declined Henry's offer for more food or drink, Henry said, "Let me throw our plates away and then why don't we take a little walk before it is time for dinner?"

Hoping that "a walk" might be more than just a walk, Mary quickly agreed.

When Henry returned, he picked up Mary's hand, dropped a quick kiss on the back of it, and then released it after giving her hand a little squeeze. "Didn't you tell me you had a tree house in the yard someplace growing up? Is it still here?"

"Yes. It is more of a fort than a house, per se, but it is actually in the best shape it has been in years. My uncle fixed it up so that it would be safe for his kids to use."

"What's the difference between a tree fort and a tree house?" Henry asked.

"Walls," Mary replied. "It is more of a platform than a house, but my uncle added a railing, a ladder and I don't know what else."

"Lead the way!" Henry urged, offering his hand to her. "That is, if you'd feel comfortable climbing a ladder in a skirt."

"Sure," Mary grabbed his hand and gave a little tug. "It is no problem, but maybe I'll make you go up first," Mary replied, her natural modesty asserting itself.

Mary led Henry into a wooded patch of land that was far enough away from the reception that they could no longer hear the murmur of voices, bringing him to an oak tree that had a rope ladder hanging against its trunk. Henry climbed up first and when Mary was almost at the top, offered his hand to help her the rest of the way up. While the fort had no walls, Henry and Mary found that a tarp had been draped over some higher branches and tied loosely to them, making a crude roof. There were a couple of collapsed camping chairs in bags on the platform along with an old pizza box and a milk jug that appeared to be filled with instant sugar-free pink lemonade.

Tied back on either side of the tree were two green plastic shower curtains with a leafy pattern, which hung on a roughly circular metal frame. Henry quickly ascertained that if untied, the curtains could be pulled open to enclose a space inside the railing, making the tree fort more of a tree tent.

"Open or closed," Henry asked once he had ascertained the purpose of the shower curtains.

"Well," Mary hedged, her heart beating a bit faster, "I'm a bit cold and I bet if it was closed, it would keep out some of the cold wind."

"Closed it is then," Henry responded, tugging the shower curtains open to surround them in green. It wasn't yet sunset, but it would be soon and with the curtains closed it was noticeably darker in there. Henry fiddled with the shower curtains for longer than necessary, making sure they were as closed as they could be. He was nervous because of what he wanted to talk to Mary about, what he wanted to do.

When Henry turned back around, he noticed that Mary had gotten the camp chairs out, arranged them next to one another and was already sitting in one. He went ahead and sat too, lamenting the fact that the chairs were flimsy and separate. Talk first instead of act, he decided.

"Mary?" he took up her near hand. "These past few weeks have been great, but they have also been super busy with you helping out with all the wedding planning and everything that happened with your grandmother. I feel like we've never really gotten the chance to have time to talk."

"You aren't breaking up with me, are you?" Mary quickly asked, stabbing fear tensing her middle. "That is, if we are actually going out. I don't know what people our age are supposed to call it, when we've never called it anything before. Dating?"

"No, no, of course not," Henry hastened to reassure Mary. He held her hand a little tighter and heard more than saw her blow out a breath of relief. "Quite the opposite."

Then he said more to himself than to her, "Sometimes you just know that something is right and you and me is just right. I haven't wanted to rush things, I wanted to show you proper respect, get to know you as a person rather than the person I built up in my mind all those years ago. Really, half of what I thought or assumed about you has been wrong, but the reality has been so much better. Maybe I shouldn't say this now, when we haven't even properly kissed, but when I think about my future, you are always a part of it."

Mary felt a new tension in her middle, an anticipation. Surely soon, he would finally kiss her!

"Do you get what I mean?"

"I think so," Mary responded.

"I didn't want to confuse desire, passion, with deeper feelings. You see, when I was in college I jumped into the middle of a relationship and it became all about how we could make each other feel, rather than about having things in common and wanting the same thing. I think I used her, and that wasn't right even though she used me right back. I told myself when it ended, never again. I had turned my back on my faith by acting the way I did with her. I had wronged both of us."

Mary nodded, although Henry barely caught the movement in the fading light.

"You are worth getting to know. You are worth going slow. You are worth every respect. These past few weeks, I have been so happy, but it almost doesn't seem right as you have been going through so many trials, with your eye and your grandmother. I mean, you could have lost sight in one eye; she could have died or ended up horribly impaired."

"But she didn't," Mary replied. "In fact, you being there may have made the difference, because if you hadn't brought those truffles, I might have not known that something was wrong, or spoken up right away."

"You are a capable person, I am sure you would have noticed and acted," Henry replied.

"Maybe, maybe not. All these bad things happening, it has been worth it. Not like a trade, but like you've been a reward, a counter balance to the hard stuff, a silver lining or something like that."

"The pot of gold at the end of a crappy rainbow?" Henry joked, in a horrible Irish accent that was familiar from the Lucky Charms commercials.

Mary chuckled. He wasn't really funny, but even so with her laugh she felt a little of the tension leave her body as her shoulders relaxed. "Much ego have we, Lucky the Leprechaun? What I mean is, if I had to go through all these things, well at least I got you out of it."

"You do have me," he responded. Henry wished more than anything that they were sitting together on a couch, so he could just lean over and give her a hug, rather than sitting apart in these collapsible chairs that would fall over if he even tried to lean toward her. As he couldn't be so spontaneous from there, he asked, "Mary, do you mind if we stand up? There is something I really want to do, if you want to, too."

They both stood and neither knew who first began to enfold the other in a tight hug, but Mary's face ended up against Henry's neck and she deeply breathed in his scent. She couldn't decide what he smelled like, but it found it nice, liked smelling it with every breath she took.

Henry, for his part, was smelling Mary's hair and very much aware of how good she felt in his arms. It felt right to him now, so he leaned over and kissed her forehead before asking, "Can we have a real kiss now?"

"Uh-huh," Mary said.

In the dim light, Henry's lips hit hers a little off center, a fact they quickly corrected. Henry had intended to just give Mary a sweet kiss, but within seconds it went from lips, to open mouths, to tongues. All the pent up desire that both were feeling was centered on that prolonged kiss and when Henry finally broke it, Mary felt light headed.

"Oh, wow," she murmured.

"Wow indeed," Henry rejoined. "I, I that was the best kiss I've ever had, hands down. I . . . " He launched himself back at her and the next kiss was even more intense. When that one broke, Mary clung to Henry, uncertain whether without his support she could even stay on her feet. She decided that the wait had totally been worth it.