It was a comfortably warm June evening by the sea when they arrived in Calais after their long carriage ride, and Alexander and Charlotte found a quiet restaurant with tables and chairs overlooking the Strait of Dover, the narrowest part of the English Channel.
It was lovely and clear, and they watched the reflected light from the sunset behind them on the massive cliffs of Dover as they turned from white to pink and then to burnt orange beyond the waters.
"So close to England, but not yet home," Charlotte said softly, enjoying another bite of her Sole Meunière and savoring the tangy lemon sauce in which it was swimming.
"If this were the year 1500 you would be home," Alexander mused, taking a sip of his wine.
Charlotte tilted her head and smiled. She had concluded that a marriage between someone who loved to teach, and someone who adored any kind of trivia was a practically perfect match. "Ah, another riddle – but this answer I know. Because of its strategic importance as an entry to France, Calais came under English control in… 1330?" She looked at Alexander for confirmation.
"1337," he said, returning her smile.
"Yes, 1337, and continued to be a part of England until sometime in the 1500's…"
"1558," Alexander said.
Charlotte laughed and nodded. "Where in heaven's name do you put all these facts and figures? One might think there is not room available for one more fresh thought in your head!"
Agreeing, Alexander said, "You may very well be right, and I should probably jettison some of them to make room for new ones."
Charlotte continued, "So, in 1558, the French finally took Calais back. But how is it that this tiny city on the coast was held for over two hundred years by a country all the way over there?" She pointed her fork toward England, twenty-one miles away.
"Calais is actually on an island of sorts here, as the town is surrounded by bogs and marshes, which made it nearly impossible to attack by land, and extremely defensible from the water."
"So how did the French finally retrieve it?"
"Our forces had a sluice-gate that they would open to flood the marshes when attack was imminent. One fateful night, the French caught us sleeping and the gates remained unopened. Thus off we went into the sea, never to return."
Charlotte smiled and raised an eyebrow. "And yet, here we are."
Alexander smiled, his eyes soft. He reached out his hand and moved a wayward curl behind her ear. "Yes, here we are," he said softly. "And may I say, I now know why honeymoons are spoken of so highly. This has been a week I shall never forget."
Charlotte took his hand and held his palm to her lips. "It has been perfect."
"Even when your bonnet blew into the Seine?" he asked, smiling.
"That kind boatman retrieved it with his oar, and it dried," she answered, laughing softly.
"And the corset incident?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Charlotte gave him a crooked smile. "Ah, yes, the corset." She gently took his hand and placed it on her waist, and he looked at her in astonishment.
His voice barely above a whisper, Alexander said, "I must be mistaken. I do not believe you are currently wearing that article of clothing you once said you could never be without."
She tilted her head and looked out at the sea. "We have spent the entire day in a carriage, and when I was not in the carriage, I was covered by a cloak. The most scandalous I have been all day is right now in the half-light, and I do not see anyone staring, do you?"
His hand was still resting on her waist and he found he was not anxious now to move it.
Charlotte laughed. "I stand corrected. You are staring," she said, causing him to snap his eyes up to look into hers.
Alexander's eyes were dancing. "It was the ball, wasn't it? You have been ruined forever by the women you saw there. We shall now find you wandering the grounds of Heyrick Park like a wanton in your shift, with a nightingale singing merrily on your head."
Charlotte's burst of laughter was so sudden that the elderly couple next to them turned and frowned. Alexander held up his hand and Charlotte's showing their rings, and said, "Jeunes mariés."
The couple nodded and smiled at them and the woman simply said, "L'amour…" as if that explained everything. They turned quietly back to their dinner.
Charlotte leaned close to Alexander. "I must say, I have not felt this free in quite a long time."
Alexander raised his eyebrows. "Even on the farm you were required to wear those torture devices? When you were working outside?"
Charlotte nodded. "Mother would not adhere to the strictest of rules so we were spared the worst of it, but there are many who begin wearing them as early as six years old. You must understand that corsets are presented to young girls not simply to satisfy vanity. They hold children upright when they would prefer to slouch."
"Brickface used a hard wooden ruler to let us know we were slouching," Alexander said, narrowing his eyes. "I might have preferred wearing a corset."
Charlotte saw the now-familiar darkness pass over him when he spoke of his governess. She touched his hand gently. "Where is she now, I wonder? Do you think she is still alive?" Charlotte asked.
Alexander exhaled. "Hard to imagine, as she seemed positively ancient when we were only boys." Looking out at the water, he said, "In my kindest moments, I try to believe that she was doing what she thought best for us. And now that I have experienced the challenges of energetic and intelligent children in Leo and Augusta, I can comprehend her frustration with us." He paused and exhaled. "But then my memories tell me that she derived pleasure from inflicting pain, and that is something I will never understand."
For a moment, he was silent, then Alexander looked at Charlotte. "And I recall myself standing in my study and telling you that what the girls needed was merely discipline and an iron hand, when you understood immediately that they were in want of only understanding and love." Sighing, he said, "So few things in life are clear in black and white. Most everything is filled with gray areas and anomalies, and when one is a stranger to his own heart, as I was, it can be a treacherous path to navigate."
Charlotte touched his face with her hand. "You found your way."
"You showed me the way," he said.
Alexander realized that he had not moved his hand yet from her waist, and he found the softness of only her shift under her traveling dress irresistible. As he moved his hand lightly up and down her back, he shook his head. "Six years old feels rather barbaric for such restraint." Then his frown gave way to a smile and then a low laugh. "I am trying to imagine convincing Leonora to wear one. I have a feeling we would find them discarded and strung up in trees all over the estate."
Charlotte laughed. "Leo has better sense than almost anyone I know." She looked out over the sea with longing. "I have loved this time and would trade it for nothing, but I must say I miss the girls very much. I cannot wait to hear what they have gotten up to for the week. And to see Marie in her play as Arthur holds court in his theater, and to congratulate Samuel on his good news, and tell Eva all of the dishes we enjoyed in Paris, and find how Georgiana's wedding plans are progressing…"
Alexander gazed out toward England with her. "I have missed them all too." He turned to his wife. "After priding myself for so long that I needed and missed no one." He took her hand across the table. "I learned during the four months we were apart that although longing for people absent from our lives can be exceedingly painful – it is an ache that indicates that love is present. And I shall never turn my back on love again. Not my love for my children, or friends, or family…" He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "And most decidedly not you. Ever again."
Charlotte looked at him with tenderness. "Your life is certainly more complicated than it was with you riding Hannibal alone on the beaches, reading voraciously, and gazing out of your study window," she said.
He laughed softly. "That it is. And I say bring on more complications. Now that my heart loves again, I find it is quite insatiable."
The sun had finally set, and Alexander and Charlotte were now in semi-darkness. The diners around them had made their way toward home, and the clatter of dishes let them know that dinner service had ended. Alexander took the opportunity to move closer to Charlotte and rest his arm lightly around her shoulders. And being so close, he could not resist leaning down to place his lips on hers in a gentle kiss. "Our last night in France," he whispered. "How do you propose we spend it?"
She gazed up at him, and narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. "I believe we should walk back to our hotel, go to our lovely room upstairs and open all the windows to the sea to let the salt air blow in." She allowed her fingertips to graze across his lips. "Then we move to that beautiful big bed that faces the ocean, and slip between the fresh white sheets, where we watch the moon rise until we think of something better to do…"
Alexander raised an eyebrow, already feeling his heart beginning to race. He turned to the grateful waiter who was also anxious to get home, and the check appeared immediately.
Silently, they joined hands and began the short walk to their hotel as they watched the lamplighters begin their journey up the street ahead of them.
"Sarah!"
Turning, Sarah Kingsley saw Henry Demeritte walking toward her as she attempted to sweep the ever-present sand from her back porch.
"Morning, Henry!" she called out, waving, and taking the opportunity to lean on her broom and rest her weary back.
"Got a letter. From England. Someplace called Sandytown," he called, coming nearer. "Thought it might be important, so I walked her out here myself. Came by the clipper 'stead of the regular, so whoever sent it has money to spare."
Everyone knew everyone's business in Coral Bay, and no wonder, with the self-styled postman of the town broadcasting the news like a town crier. There were already women walking from their kitchens and men leaning forward in their wicker chairs to hear all the particulars.
Sarah's heart was suddenly pounding. A letter in itself was cause for either alarm or celebration, and she had no doubt that "Sandytown" was Sanditon. The fact that someone from her former home knew where she lived already had her nerves on high alert.
As Henry climbed her porch stairs, Sarah placed the broom carefully up against the siding of her small house. She wiped her hands on her apron and took the letter from his fingers silently.
The return address stopped her in her tracks. "Heyrick Park, Sanditon."
"Thank you kindly, Henry," Sarah said, working to control her shaky voice. She suddenly felt she needed to sit down but alerting Henry to her distress would only have the whole town asking her for days to come what the letter was about. She took a deep breath and laughed softly. "Likely just some gossip from an old friend," she said lightly.
Henry tilted his head. "Mighty expensive gossip, comin' on the clipper…"
Sarah put her hand on her hip and scowled at him. "Now Henry, isn't it you forever telling me that some people have more money than sense?"
Laughing finally, Henry said, "Yes, that's me. I do say that all the time." Sarah was relieved that he was beginning to back down her steps. "I'll leave you to it, then. You let me know if you need anything…" He started to turn toward town and then turned back, saying conspiratorially, "...or if the gossip is real good," he said, chuckling and nodding.
Sarah waved the letter, laughing too. "You will be the first I tell."
Henry walked back between the rows of houses reassuring those who were still waiting to hear, "Just an old friend. Nothin' earthshakin'." Sarah smiled and waved to her neighbors until she felt she could finally step inside and close her door.
She sat for a time on her sofa, just breathing and listening to the ocean beyond the palms. She turned the envelope over and over, and decided that the handwriting must be Eva's. It still didn't allay her fears, but it was certainly better than the envelope just a week ago that she had refused to accept, from the Colbourne law firm in London. Just the name sent shivers of fear down her spine and took her mind and her misused body back to those helpless, endless nights with the Master.
Sarah decided to make a cup of tea to calm herself before she opened the envelope. Then, with the warm cup in her hand, she moved to her favorite chair by the front window, looking out to the sea.
She opened the envelope carefully and found two sheets of paper, written on both sides. Looking quickly for the name at the bottom, two items fell in her lap – a ticket for passage with the Reid, Irving & Co shipping line, and also a small square of heavy paper. She picked up the latter, and found it was a tiny watercolor painting. Her breath caught in her throat.
Sarah would know her daughter anywhere. Georgiana had not lost the qualities of her fourteen-year-old features – they had only enhanced and matured. She was a stunning young woman, yet what so gripped Sarah's heart and caused her to cry out softly was the fact that her daughter's hair was not pulled up into a white woman's style as she would expect – it was free and natural, falling in tiny curls all around her head.
It was Sarah's hair. Minus the streaks of gray, of course, but Sarah felt she might be looking in a mirror. Georgiana's hair signaled a small rebellion, and it brought immediate pride into Sarah's breast for her daughter's strength and resiliency in the face of English society. She could not tear her eyes away from the small painting for a long time, but finally she set it up against a candlestick on the table next to her and began to read.
By the time she had read the letter twice, she had large, grateful tears rolling down her cheeks, and her tea was quite cold.
My dear Sarah,
I cannot tell you how often I have thought of you, and how very happy I was to hear that you were alive and living in the Islands. I have learned all of the particulars of your story on Antigua, though I hope for a chance to hear them from your own lips – for as we know, stories take on a life of their own once they leave our control, and can often deviate sharply from the full truth.
You may or may not have recently received a letter from Mr. Samuel Colbourne, whom you will remember as a seven-year-old boy the last time you saw him. He is now a solicitor and he wrote to find you at the behest of your daughter, Miss Georgiana Lambe.
I am writing to you also, in hopes that you will know that this missive is driven by no other motive than my love for you and your beautiful girl, and that I will give you the unvarnished truth as I know it.
We want you to come home – if you can still find it in your heart to call Heyrick Park home. Your daughter is safe, and any who would wish her harm have been vanquished, either by God's hand or by love. Her fortune is assured, and there is absolutely nothing your appearance in Sanditon could do to put that, or her, in danger.
Your presence is wished for fervently by all – but most especially by Georgiana, who holds your precious shell necklace to her breast as if she takes life from it. She has grown into the most exquisite woman – with a lively intellect, a full and open heart, a sharp wit and a clear sense of how the world turns. She is the bright future of our freedom, Sarah. She honors her heritage and though she pushes forward into a society that may try to subjugate her, she will not allow it. She knows her value and it is not in shillings or pounds – it is in what she can contribute to move humanity forward. She is a wonder and you will be so very proud of her.
She is in need of nothing – save her mother.
Georgiana has fallen in love, and surprisingly, it is with Lawrence Lambe's nephew, Charles Lockhart. We can tell you how that all came about once you get here, but they are both passionate and creative people, and their love for each other is a great pleasure to see.
Since, as I said, we are aware of the full story – Alexander and Samuel know now that Georgiana is their sister by blood, and they have folded her into their family and their lives completely. You will be so pleased to find what a happy place Heyrick Park is now. There are children and dogs and laughter and great hope for the future. A future that we desire so strongly to include you.
Georgiana is marrying Charles in mid-July, which gives you ample time to sail here. I have not told her that I am contacting you, as I would not wish for her to be disappointed if for some reason you cannot come. I asked Charles, who is a fine artist, to render a small painting of Georgiana, enclosed here, so that you can see for yourself what a beauty your daughter has become.
I realize you may have found a life there in the Islands, and if you have married or have children, please know that they are also welcome here. Samuel and Alexander want only what will bring about Georgiana's happiness. I have enclosed a ticket for your passage to Plymouth Harbor, and will send a carriage to bring you from there to Heyrick Park. If you need more tickets for family, simply write back and I will make arrangements with the shipping line.
Know above all that there is love for you here. And family. And a home.
Your dearest,
Eva Wheatley
As Sarah looked up and out through her tears to the waves crashing on the shore, she could hardly sort out her feelings. This island that had been her escape for the last seven years, this small house in which she truly believed she would die alone, and the stifling fear that she had lived with for as long as she could remember, all began to take on new properties – instead of simply facts, like the air that she breathed, she began to imagine them as having been temporary.
She could leave this island and this house. She could live her life without fear. She could get on a ship and sail back to England – to her daughter, to family, to friends.
Sarah Kingsley had been keeping people at arm's length since the time she had first learned what slavery was. The last time she had sailed to England, she had been kept in a cage, grieving the loss of her parents and her brother. This time, she could stand on the deck with the wind in her hair, sleep in a bed, and when she reached her destination, it would be to welcoming, open arms.
It was almost more than she could conceive.
But Sarah knew that when she finally found the courage to stand, it would be to gather her belongings and begin to pack. It would be to let Henry know that she was ready to sell the house. It would be to write a letter to Eva and send it by the clipper, using some of her small savings, letting her know that she was on her way.
To England, to Heyrick Park, and to her beloved Georgiana.
Alexander and Charlotte asked to be awakened just before sunrise so that they could catch the dawn packet boat back to Portsmouth Harbor.
The knock on the door coincided with the sound of a distant foghorn, and it lifted Alexander from what he could only assume was a happy dream, as he awoke with a smile on his face and Charlotte in his arms. She was still asleep, and in the darkness of early morning he could barely see her face, but he pulled her closer and put his mouth to her ear. "It is time to go home," he whispered, punctuating his words with kisses on the warm skin of her neck.
Charlotte stirred and stretched, uttering small sounds of satisfaction. "I slept so well," she said as she put her arms around him and clutched tightly. "I do not want to leave this bed," she said sleepily, nuzzling her head into his chest and pressing closer.
Alexander exhaled sharply, feeling himself yet again rise to the warm feel of her body next to his. "Ah, we cannot…" he said, moaning softly. "There is no time… It is either this or breakfast…"
Charlotte's eyes opened, and she ceased her movements. "That, husband, is an impossible choice."
Laughing softly, Alexander kissed her on the cheek and threw the covers back. "And yet, we must make it. And I know you well enough now to be fairly sure which you will choose."
As he got out of bed, Charlotte sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Only because we have a boat ride, and then another long carriage ride, and hunger and I are not amiable traveling companions," she said sulkily.
Alexander quickly lit the candle and then pulled on his breeches and tucked in his shirt. "We will find breakfast, then, and pack a second one for lunch." He reached for his waistcoat and slipped it over one arm. "But you must make haste," he said, leaning down to kiss her again.
"I do so love watching you dress," Charlotte said, sighing and stretching her arms above her head.
Laughing softly, Alexander took her hands and lifted her gently from the bed. "Yes, I know, it is like a symphony. Let us make beautiful music and dress together…"
Charlotte pouted, and exhaled, resigned. "Oh, alright. I will be an adult." She reached for her bag and pulled out her corset, holding it up. "Will you kindly do the honors?" she asked plaintively.
Raising his eyebrows, Alexander walked to her. "Ah, so today we are bowing to propriety?"
Taking hold of the bedpost, Charlotte turned away from him. "Back to England we go, and forthwith I leave the debauchery of Paris behind."
"More's the pity," Alexander said, reaching around and circling her waist with the offending article of clothing. "We will lace it very loosely…" He leaned down and kissed the back of her neck, moving slowly between her shoulder blades as he began the process.
Leaning against the bedpost and closing her eyes, Charlotte sighed. "Have I told you today how much I love you?" she said softly.
"Not yet," he answered, squinting in the half-light to pull the laces through the eyelets. "But it is barely a new day, so you have plenty of time…"
They managed to get dressed and had their bags packed before the sun began to rise, and made their way downstairs in darkness. Stopping at a small pâtisserie on the way to the Calais harbor, Alexander purchased pain au chocolat directly from the baker's ovens, and some pastries with ham and cheese for lunch. They would have to make do with the strong and barely drinkable coffee that was available to the seamen on board the packet boat, but neither would mind, as it would be absolutely certain to keep their eyes open.
As they set out, the fog was so thick on the water that they felt they were sailing into nothingness, and a light film of moisture collected on their cloaks and their hair as they huddled together on deck. The foghorns were sounding from all sides, and they could just barely see the fiery beacon at the top of the lighthouse as they pulled away from Calais. As opposed to their last journey, all hands were on deck keeping watch and listening for the sounds of other vessels.
Charlotte and Alexander found a protected bench out of the way of the activity and sat together wrapped warmly and tightly in Alexander's coat. Charlotte closed her eyes, loving the closeness, the feeling of shelter and security she always knew in his arms. The waters were calm in the way they often were in the fog, making the motion of the boat soothing and soporific, and for a time, she fell back to sleep as he held her safely.
As the sun rose, a golden hue began to appear within the mist, and slowly but surely, it burned away. Alexander kissed Charlotte lightly on the cheek and she opened her eyes, squinting into the morning light.
They were at the half-way point of the channel, and Charlotte went to the rail to look at the bright sunshine that was illuminating England, while behind them, France was still shrouded in haze.
"Are you hungry?" Charlotte said. "I am famished!" She reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out the wrapped pastries. Retrieving one of the pain au chocolat, she felt it was still slightly warm. Biting into it, the layers of buttery pastry gave way to the rich creamy chocolate inside and she closed her eyes in ecstasy.
Alexander watched her, smiling. "I can see we will need to have Eva expand her recipes," he said.
Charlotte looked up at him and nodded enthusiastically. "I want to learn to make them! You remember that pâtisserie in Paris where they were creating them right in the window? It seems easy enough. Layers of butter between layers of dough, spread with chocolate, wrap it into a lovely package and bake. How difficult could it be?"
Alexander laughed. "And if it is especially challenging, I am certain you will find a number of happy consumers of your 'mistakes.' You can teach the girls, and Sam and I will dispose of the rejects. Better yet, Arthur!"
Charlotte laughed and suddenly said, "Oh, I cannot wait to be home. Travel is wonderful and I want to do it again and again, but to be home…"
Pulling her closer, Alexander exhaled deeply. "There is nothing like it." He could not remember the last time he felt so anxious to be back in the warmth of the dark wood of Heyrick House, with the aromas of the kitchen, the colors of the garden, and the sounds of the stables. And to have Leonora run into his arms, and see Augusta smile warmly as she walked toward him for a welcoming hug. To see Sam and Eva waiting on the steps. He could envision it all so clearly. He could feel it.
Turning to Charlotte, Alexander laughed softly. In her exuberance, she had missed a small fragment of chocolate just at the corner of her lips. "You have just a bit…" he said, moving his mouth toward hers. He leaned down and kissed her, tasting the sweetness of cocoa and butter, first on her lips and then deeper, as all the emotions he was feeling constellated into his love for the beautiful woman by his side.
Life was so very good. And home was getting closer.
Sarah stood on deck, feeling the wind in her face. Her cabin on board was modest, with a small bed and wardrobe, a tiny separate room for her chamber-pot, and a wash basin. It had a lock on the door, and it was her good fortune that a pair of brothers of her acquaintance from Coral Bay were traveling as well to Plymouth Harbor, and had pledged to guard her safely for the voyage. They were tall, strong men, and she felt no trepidation about the twenty-one days at sea ahead of her.
Sarah loved being on the ocean, and this would be the longest journey she had ever undertaken in the fresh air. She couldn't bear to think of that first crossing in the filth and deprivation of the below-decks – unless it was as a reference to frame her happiness as she watched the sea now.
Then, she had been traveling from one slave-owner to another, and although the sugar fields had been harsh and filled with back-breaking work, she had no idea where she was going and what hardships she would be facing there. So, for the duration of the voyage, Sarah had huddled in the corner, speaking to no one and trying to make herself as small as possible – for when men and women are caged like animals, they tend to behave like animals. On that trip too, she had been taken under the wings of some strong women who protected her.
It was the reason that Sarah still had a loving and open heart. Everywhere she had gone, there had been those who had cared for her and tried to shield her from the worst of human nature. Eva had been one of those, and Lawrence, another. Now Lawrence was gone, but as she traveled towards Eva, Sarah found her heart filling with the good memories of Heyrick Park – the relative joy of the slaves quarters, the clean lodgings, the wonderful and plentiful food. Because the Master was so often drunk, the conditions under which they all lived were primarily determined by Lawrence and Eva. Except for those nights when Jonathan Colbourne called for her, Sarah had actually felt lucky to have landed in such a beautiful and comfortable place, surrounded by kindness and sleeping in clean sheets.
Sarah held Georgiana's picture and Eva Wheatley's letter close to her heart inside her bodice, protected by a palm leaf. She walked to a bench that was out of the wind and carefully withdrew both. She knew that she would repeat this action many times in the next month, reminding herself that her daughter was well and fulfilled, and was to be married to the man she loved. The fact that Georgiana wore her shell necklace was nearly more happiness than Sarah could bear. It indicated a connection, a care, an affection that Sarah had scarcely allowed herself to hope for in these last seven years.
The last time she saw Georgiana, Sarah was the housekeeper. This time, she would arrive as Mother.
The carriage Alexander had hired in Plymouth Harbor was passably comfortable, but as they finally moved through Sanditon town and onto the cliffs, both he and Charlotte were longing for their own green carriage with its soft cushions and large windows. As he looked out at the ocean, Alexander was wondering if he had actually conjured it, because there, in the distance, stood his very own carriage.
As they neared, Charlotte joined him at the window, and they watched as Sam stepped out, and behind him, Leonora.
"Whatever is that on her arm?" Charlotte said, squinting into the lowering sun.
Leonora was waving the plaster cast high in the air, and Sam had to restrain her from running ahead toward the carriage nearing them. Alexander rapped on the ceiling and called out the window, "Stop, please!" and the driver pulled up beside Sam and Leonora.
Sam came forward and opened the door before the driver had a chance to get down from his perch. "Ever since we got word from Calais that you would be arriving this afternoon, Leo would not be held back. She was fully prepared to ride out here on her own on Fritz, but Dr. Fuchs has cautioned against it until she is more fully healed."
By now, Leonora had scrambled into the carriage with Alexander and Charlotte, and was breathlessly starting to tell her tale of battle.
Alexander laughed and said, "You go ahead, Sam, and we'll follow with Leonora. There is clearly a story that is needing to be told."
Sam reached in and took Alexander's hand. "Good to have you back, brother." He smiled and added, more softly, "You look happier than I have ever seen you."
Alexander nodded and returned his brother's smile. "I am happier than you have ever seen me, Sam. May you find such contentment in marriage."
Samuel raised his eyebrows. "I believe I will, Xander. I feel the luckiest man on the face of the earth that such a woman accepted me." He walked backward and into the green carriage and closed the door. "See you at the house!"
As the two carriages turned toward Heyrick Park, Leonora could no longer contain herself. "I fell from a tree!"
Charlotte frowned and held the injured wrist gently. "Oh, Leo, did it hurt very much?"
"It did," Leonora said solemnly, "But I did not cry."
Smiling, Charlotte said, "It would have been perfectly appropriate if you had, my sweet girl. This looks quite significant!" Charlotte was touching the ragged parts of the cast where Turk had gotten hold of it. "It looks as if you have been through a war!"
Giggling, Leonora said, "That is Turk's doing. Mrs. Wheatley says it must feel good on his teeth. They are going to fall out, you know, and new ones will come in."
Charlotte pulled Leo up onto her lap, being careful not to jar her arm. "And the same thing happened to you, do you remember?"
"Yes! A long time ago when I was only six! One fell in my porridge and Mrs. Wheatley had to fish it out!"
Charlotte laughed and hugged Leonora close to her. "I have missed you so much, my dear Leo. I have so many stories to tell you."
Leonora snuggled in under Charlotte's chin at the same time she reached out and took Alexander's nearby hand. "I have missed you too. It has been forever since you left."
Squeezing her hand, Alexander said softly, "Only a week." He leaned closer and kissed her on the cheek. "The next time we go to Paris, we will take you and Augusta with us. There are horses and soldiers everywhere!"
Leo's eyes lit up. "I should like that very much. Though I doubt Augusta will come with us unless you invite Drew along as well. She is ridiculously in love with him, and writes to him twenty times a day."
Alexander laughed softly. "That many times? Well, love will do that to you," he said, looking into Charlotte's eyes.
The three of them sat entwined as the carriage moved through the trees. And when they neared the house, they could see that everyone was waiting out front, exactly as Alexander had pictured it.
The two carriages pulled up to Heyrick House and there was a cacophony of greetings, laughter and some tears. Alexander began to feel that perhaps Leonora was right.
It had indeed been forever since they had been home.