A/N: A short Charlotte/Colbourne story that takes place between the garden party and the ball. Colbourne has apologized to Charlotte but has not yet told her about Lennox and Lucy, and things are still awkward between them.
I almost didn't watch S2 when I heard Sidney was not returning. What a mistake that would have been. Colbourne is wonderful, and he treats Charlotte like an equal.
"Look, Miss Heywood. Over there." Leonora Colbourne pointed a small, slightly dirty finger in the direction of the tall bushes. "Is it a bullfinch?"
Charlotte Heywood gazed across the field to where the girl was gesturing. At first she saw nothing in the greenery save branches and leaves. But then a tiny movement caught her eye and she spotted the red-breasted bird flitting from branch to branch.
"It is indeed a bullfinch, Leo," she confirmed. "Well done."
Leonora smiled. The afternoon outdoors was her reward for a morning spent indoors, studying history. The girl was a bright pupil who learned quickly, but she was also an energetic child who loved to run and climb. Their subject was the Plantagenets, and even Charlotte, who generally enjoyed English history, felt there were far too many Edwards and Joans to keep track of. By noon, she had longed for fresh air as much as her young charge. The decision to turn the walk into a lesson on the local bird population had been an afterthought.
She had offered Augusta an afternoon to herself, but to Charlotte's surprise, the girl had chosen to come with them. Not long ago, Charlotte would have suspected Augusta to be seeking an opportunity to exercise her wit at her governess's expense. Since Lady Denham's garden party, however, they appeared to have reached a truce, if not yet a friendship. Augusta might still have moments of anger, but they were briefer and fewer, and Charlotte believed they shared the beginnings of a mutual trust.
She wished the same could be said of her employer. After days of silence following the garden party, she and Alexander Colbourne were at last on speaking terms as a result of his apology. The ease with which they had once conversed, however, had not returned. Charlotte found his behavior puzzling and frustrating; in particular, his refusal to explain why he had ordered her to stay away from Colonel Lennox. After weeks in his employ, she still did not know what to make of the man. He was intelligent and hardworking, and she saw flashes of humor and gentleness in him. She also observed moments of obstinacy and imperiousness. She wanted their situation remedied - it bothered her more than she cared to admit to be on the outs with him - but she believed the responsibility for repairing the relationship rested with Colbourne. He owed her an explanation.
Leo bounded up beside her, her cheeks pink and eyes bright. The afternoon outdoors had been a good idea.
"Can we walk to the shore and look at the sea birds?" she pleaded. "There's plenty of time until tea."
Charlotte exchanged glances with Augusta before looking toward the sky. The clouds, which had been light grey earlier, were considerably darker. Their appearance made her uneasy.
She shook her head. "Not today, Leo. I think it may rain shortly. We had best return to the house."
Leonora's face fell. "But-"
"Let us do as Miss Heywood suggests," Augusta interjected. "You may not mind getting soaked, Leo, but I am not in the mood for it. We can go to the shore another day."
Leonora glared at her cousin and Charlotte felt certain she was preparing to argue. But then she declared, "Oh, very well," and marched off in the direction of the house. Charlotte and Augusta followed at a calmer pace.
They were met on the road by Colbourne when the house was still a quarter mile away. His brow, which was creased with worry, eased when he saw them. "You are back," he said. "Good. I was hoping you hadn't gone too far. There is going to be a storm."
Charlotte nodded. "We saw the clouds. If you don't mind, Mr. Colbourne, I would like to leave early today. If I go now, I may arrive home before the rain comes."
Colbourne shook his head. "It's too late for that. You will come back to the house with us."
He was issuing orders, just as he had at the party. Charlotte felt her temper rising. "I believe we have already established that I can withstand a little rain, sir. And I am a fast walker. There is a chance I can-"
"There is no chance, Miss Heywood," Colbourne interrupted. "We are not talking about a summer shower. We are talking about a storm with high winds and lightning, and it's going to begin soon. I am not even offering you the carriage because I do not trust the horses near the cliffs."
"The Parkers will be expecting me."
"The Parkers will understand when they see the storm. Trust me, Miss Heywood, I have lived here most of my life and I am familiar with the weather. You will stay with us tonight." He turned and strode toward the house, leaving Charlotte unable to utter a response.
Augusta turned to Charlotte. There was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "What did I tell you about learning to parry, Miss Heywood?"
Forty-five minutes later, when a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, Charlotte conceded that Colbourne might have a point. She was in the classroom with Leonora and Augusta, attempting to resume the morning's history lesson with little success. Each thunderclap drew the girls to the window and they exclaimed as the wind bent the tops of smaller trees nearly to the ground. Eventually, Charlotte abandoned all pretense of teaching and joined them. She found the storm frightening and fascinating.
When she tired of watching the rain pound the windows, she went in search of Mrs. Wheatley. Charlotte had never spent an evening at the estate and she hoped the housekeeper would provide guidance on the staff's routine. She found the woman in the kitchen.
"I was wondering what time the staff has supper," she said, "and if there is anything I can do to help. I know my stay is unexpected and I do not want to be an inconvenience."
Mrs. Wheatley shook her head. "No inconvenience. If I can't accommodate one young woman on short notice, I don't deserve my position in this house. And Mr. Colbourne has already spoken with me. You are to dine with the family."
"With the family?" Charlotte repeated. "Are you certain?"
"Quite certain, Miss Heywood."
Charlotte glanced down at her pinafore. "But I am an employee. And I cannot dress for dinner."
"Mr. Colbourne will understand. He is not nearly as unreasonable as you make him out to be."
Charlotte was tempted to say that Colbourne had recently been quite unreasonable, but she did not think the remark would go down well with Mrs. Wheatley. Instead, she asked, "Do you know where he is? I would like to speak with him."
There was a loud rumble of thunder. The housekeeper waited until it subsided before replying, "Best to leave him alone right now. I suspect he is somewhere trying to calm the dog. That animal has always been afraid of storms."
That was something Charlotte could believe. After seeing Colbourne with his horse, she had no trouble imagining him comforting the shaggy grey hound. The man seemed more comfortable showing tenderness to his animals than he did sharing it with the girls.
"Very well," she sighed.
Mrs. Wheatley nodded. "Dinner is at seven in the small dining room. Mind you are not late."
Charlotte entered the dining room promptly at seven and found Colbourne and the girls already seated. She had done her best to tidy her hair and freshen her face, although she still felt uneasy about her clothes. It didn't help to see that the family had dressed for dinner. Even Leonora was in a clean frock with her short hair carefully combed.
"Ah, Miss Heywood," Colbourne said, rising from his seat. "You are right on time. Please, allow me." He pulled a chair out for her.
She sat. "Thank you, sir. I apologize for not dressing. Circumstances..." Her voice trailed off.
"Of course, we understand," he replied. "We're happy to have your company."
"And I suspect we have you to thank for my uncle dining with us," Augusta added. "He usually works late and eats alone."
"Does he?" Charlotte asked. Feeling bolder, she raised an eyebrow at Colbourne as he returned to his seat at the end of the table.
He met her gaze briefly before looking down. "This is a large estate. It commands a good deal of attention. I often work into the evening."
It was an excuse, and he knew it as well as Charlotte. When she continued to regard him in silence, he cleared his throat. "So, girls, what did Miss Heywood have to teach you today?"
Leonora grinned. "We studied the Plantagenets."
"Did you now. All of them?"
"I think so. Well, most of them, anyway."
Colbourne nodded. "And who did she suggest was the most successful king?"
Leonora frowned. "She didn't tell us."
"No? Perhaps she wanted you to make up your own mind."
Leonora considered it for a moment. "Well, I would like it to be Richard II, because he was ten when he became king. That's only a year older than me. But I don't think he was very good."
Colbourne smiled and continued to ask his daughter questions about her lesson — but gently, not as an examination. Pleased to have his attention, Leo replied with enthusiasm. Charlotte noticed, as she often had before, that he was well-read and recalled facts with remarkable accuracy. She was beginning to suspect she could raise any topic and he would be informed about it. It was a shame he was so often reticent because he was capable of entertaining conversation when he chose. Leonora's eyes were sparkling and even Augusta was smiling.
Still - as much as Charlotte delighted in seeing the girls enjoy themselves, she couldn't help noticing that Colbourne directed the majority of his remarks toward them and not herself. The awkwardness between the two of them remained. She wondered if he was avoiding her because he believed she would choose to leave her position - the position she so recently called "untenable". Perhaps he's distancing himself because he believes I am planning to resign.
But then why insist she dine with the family?
The man was as confusing as ever.
Charlotte pulled the borrowed nightdress over her head, then sat and brushed her hair. The storm was waning, although it hadn't quit altogether. Lightning still flashed from time to time and the wind gave an occasional howl as it raced across the grounds. Colbourne's house, large and solid, appeared to have weathered the tempest without incident. She wondered if the same could be said of the town. It was so much closer to the sea. Had the waves invaded? Had the Parker house suffered damage?
She wished she had visited Colbourne's library before getting ready to retire. She wasn't sleepy and a book would serve to occupy her mind. Her thoughts kept racing in a most undesirable way; about her sister, about Georgiana, but mostly about her employer. She hadn't been in this much turmoil over a man since…since…
Since Sidney.
There, she had admitted it — if only to herself. Colbourne inspired some of the same feelings as Sidney Parker, which was odd, because he wasn't very much like Sidney. Yes, he was often taciturn and abrupt, but he seemed vulnerable — almost wounded — in a way that Sidney never had. And where Sidney had relied on friends like Babington and the odious Mr. Crowe for diversion, Colbourne shut himself away from the world. He had no one.
Of course, if what Colonel Lennox told her was true — that Colbourne had "destroyed" his wife - he deserved his isolation. But Charlotte had trouble believing Colbourne could deliberately be so cruel. He was too decent - too honest - for that. She could believe, however, that he might have been distant. She had seen him that way with the girls. Was that what Lennox had meant?
"Miss Heywood?"
She turned to see Leonora in the doorway. The girl's face bore the traces of tears.
"Oh, Leo, what's wrong?"
"I can't sleep. I don't like the wind."
Charlotte frowned. "You were brave about it earlier. What has changed?"
The child shrugged. "I was with you and Augusta earlier. Now…now I'm alone in my bed and it is harder to be brave."
"I don't think you will have to be for long. The storm appears to be ending."
"Can I stay with you until it does?"
Charlotte paused, wondering if Colbourne would insist that a nine-year-old sleep in her own bed. Then she considered what life had been like for Leo, growing up without a mother or siblings. She recalled the times she and Alison had drawn comfort from each other, huddled under the blankets.
"Yes, you can stay, Leo. Let's get into bed."
Leonora grinned and climbed up onto the mattress. Charlotte went to the other side of the bed and climbed up beside her.
"Dinner tonight was good," Leonora offered, pulling the blanket over them. "I wish Father would dine with us more often."
"Perhaps he will, now that he's seen how much you enjoy it."
"I hope so." The girl smiled. "I think he will if you dine with us."
"Me?"
"Yes. It's like the picnic. Father stayed because you were there. It was such a fine afternoon."
Charlotte listened as Leo continued to talk about the picnic. Gradually, the girl's voice became slower and quieter, and she eventually drifted off into slumber.
When Charlotte felt certain Leonora wouldn't awaken, she rose, went to the window, and drew aside the curtain. The night was calm now, the sky clearing. She could see stars - bright pinpricks against the black sky. Their presence felt soothing...constant.
Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she padded down the stairs and silent hallway to the kitchen, and then to the staff entrance. When she stepped outside the house she found the air to be soft and still; the ground wet under her bare feet, but not cold. She walked a short distance across the lawn, then stopped and gazed at the sky. Had Sidney been able to see those same stars from Antigua? And had he thought of her when he looked at them, the way she was thinking of him now? Or had his thoughts only been for Eliza?
"Miss Heywood?"
She started, then turned to see Colbourne approaching. He regarded her with a bemused expression.
"It's late," he said. "After midnight. When I first saw you, I thought you were a ghost prowling the grounds."
He sounded only partly in jest. But then she was wearing nothing but a white nightdress and shawl, with her feet bare and her hair loose and tumbled about her shoulders. She might well have a spectral appearance.
She hugged the shawl more tightly. "I couldn't sleep."
"I see. There is milk in the kitchen. I am certain someone could have warmed some for you. It seems safer than a stroll in the wee hours."
She narrowed her eyes. "What about you, sir? You are, after all, out here with me. What is your excuse?"
"I was checking for damage now that the storm has passed."
"Wouldn't that endeavor be better served in daylight?"
He smiled the small, almost shy smile she sometimes elicited from him. "Fair enough, Miss Heywood. I probably could have waited. But at least I am not in my nightclothes."
Her cheeks grew warm and she could not think of a rebuttal. He was wearing a shirt and trousers but no waistcoat, and the shirt was open at the neck in a casual, careless fashion. The aggravating thing was that she thought it suited him. He looked younger and less serious.
She cleared her throat. "And did you find any damage, sir?"
"No." He sighed. "But then most of the damage this house sees comes from metaphorical storms rather than meteorological ones."
And that, she thought, is a very accurate statement. Many of those storms are of your own making.
Wanting to change the subject, she nodded toward the sky. "I was looking at the constellations," she said, "now that the clouds have passed. They are very clear and beautiful tonight."
"Which ones were you looking at?"
"There." She gestured with her index finger. "Right above the horizon, there is Sagittarius. And next to it is Scorpius."
"Ah, yes, the scorpion." He paused. "I am tempted to make a comparison with Lady Denham but you already believe my manners lacking. I do not wish to tarnish your opinion of me further."
She laughed - partly at his joke, and partly out of relief because it felt as if the tension between them had lessened. She had missed talking with him like this.
He moved to stand next to her. "The brightest star in Scorpius," he offered, "is called Antares."
"Which one is that?"
To her surprise, he reached down and took her hand. Then he raised their joined hands upward, pointing them toward Scorpius. "You see there? By the scorpion's head? That is Antares."
She nodded, although she was far more aware of his hand holding hers than she was of the stars. His palm was warm and dry, his fingers gentle over hers.
"Do you know, Miss Heywood," he continued, "that some astronomers are now proposing that our sun is also a star, much like the ones we are gazing at this moment."
She frowned. "Actually, Mr. Colbourne, I believe Anaxagoras suggested that very thing around 450 B.C."
He released her hand and chuckled softly. "I forgot who I was speaking to. You are a student of both the sciences and the ancient Greeks."
She was sorry to lose his touch. Her hand felt cool and empty without it. "A poor student," she admitted. "I study the things that interest me and neglect the things that do not."
"Fortunately, you seem to be interested in a great many things."
It almost sounded like a compliment from a man who not long ago had said women were expected to be accomplished, not educated. To hide her confusion, Charlotte added, "Giordano Bruno said something similar about the sun and was burned at the stake for heresy in 1600."
Colbourne nodded. "And Galileo sentenced to house arrest not long after him, for similar reasons. Perhaps I should refrain from repeating the theory. As distinguished as those men are, I have no wish to be in their company."
Charlotte smiled. "I don't believe the Church of England has burned anyone at the stake for at least two centuries. I think you are safe."
He returned her smile. "That is good to hear. Of course, you understand what it means," he said, "if we extend the theory to its logical conclusion?"
She pursed her lips, trying to work it out before he explained it her. "You mean," she said slowly, "that if our sun is a star, then those stars," she pointed at Scorpius, "might also be suns?"
"Exactly. And perhaps there is someone out there, gazing at us the way we are gazing at them. Perhaps we are part of someone else's constellation."
She shook her head. "Now, that is heresy, sir. It's a good thing the curate isn't here."
He laughed. "I trust you won't repeat this conversation - to anyone?"
"Of course not." The question is, will you remember it in the morning? Or will we go back to our awkward silences?
She supposed she would find out.
