A/N: I find it a bit difficult to focus my thoughts at the moment, even if writing always is my happy-place. My husband has been ill in what very likely is Covid-19 even if he is not tested as we do not do that on a large scale in Sweden. He is still recovering which means for a while we have not been two fully functioning adults in our home, so well, less time for writing. It is a strange time to live in and I know I am not the only one feeling distracted. Virtual hugs to all of you out there and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Lastly, a thousand times thank you for all your lovely reviews. I have not been able to respond to all individually but want you to know I appreciate them so much.

Chapter 12: Time for healing

She had not known it was possible to feel like dying and then keep on living. It was as if everything inside her collapsed, fell apart, crashed and crumbled but the outer shell stayed intact and continued to breathe, talk and move. She had not known herself capable of such strong emotions of any kind, as the bereavement she felt when he sent her away. Her love for Sidney had been like a fragile sprig, trembling and apprehensive, not yet in full bloom, but her grief was all-consuming, passionate and flaring. It swept her off her feet and made her finally realise the depth of her feelings for him. Foolish feelings because he did not reciprocate them.

As the carriage drove away from Bedford Place, she allowed everything she had contained inside during the farewell at the stairs to erupt, and she was overflooded with the despair caused by her unrequited love. With body shaking and face buried in her palms, she cried until there were no tears left to cry and she was filled by a sense of exhausted emptiness. Then she fell asleep, lulled by the movements of the carriage taking her further and further away from Sidney.

She was not sure how much time that had passed when the cringing of the carriage rattled her awake and after a blissful moment of oblivion, sadness filled her again. It was Sidney's private carriage, which would return to London after taking her to her destination and as the journey went on, she thought of the two previous occasions when she had travelled long-distance in it. The first was back and forth to Gretna Green when they only just had met, he had paid to get her out of the brothel and announced his plan to marry her. She had been terrified of the unknown man, the imminent marriage and what his expectations would be on her afterwards.

The second journey was to and from Willingden. By then she knew he was a good man but on the way there she had still been incredibly nervous about introducing him to her family and sharing room with him. He had handled that so well, gradually calmed her, made her trust him and admire him, made her want him not to turn his back to her in bed at night. When they returned to London, she was already in love with him. In hindsight she could see that clearly, but the realisation did nothing to comfort her..

And now, now she was going away from him, the horses increasing the distance between them by the minute. No, she was not going away, he was sending her away and never wanted her to return. How things had changed over the course of a few months. How could fate be so cruel to unexpectedly let her fall in love with a man she was married to, yet not allow her to be his?

Tear drops rolled down her cheeks again, slower this time. She wiped them away as the driver stopped by an inn. He wanted to have a meal before they continued the journey and she joined him, but only pushed the food around on her plate unable to force herself to eat and was relieved when she could hide inside the carriage again.

It was late afternoon when they finally reached the destination. When she first had arrived at the house at Bedford Place, she had been nervous and tired but also curious. Sidney had seemed so eager to show her around and she had followed his lead. Now all she felt was relief to have reached the end of the journey and desperate need for a bed and privacy. The poor housekeeper, a Mrs. Morris, first seemed completely confused by the arrival of an unexpected guest, but after reading the letter Sidney had sent along she courteously welcomed Charlotte as the new mistress of the house. Without asking any questions she quickly had a room prepared. Charlotte was offered dinner but asked to be taken to the room without any detours. As soon as Mrs. Morris was out the door, she went straight to the bed and tucked herself in under the quilt. There she stayed.

Days passed, she did not keep count how many. Mrs. Morris came and went. Initially she just knocked softly on the door and left when Charlotte did not answer. Gradually her voice sounded more worried at the lack of response, so Charlotte told her to go away. She did, but eventually returned bringing food which Charlotte never touched. She never even acknowledged the housekeeper's presence, silently keeping her back turned to her, but Mrs. Morris was deeply concerned now and did not give up so easily. Obviously something was the matter and she would not let the poor girl starve herself to death on her watch.

Charlotte's half-slumber was disturbed when the housekeeper finally spoke to her.

"I'm sorry if you find me disrespectful. I know it not my place to say but you must get out of that bed and this room at some point Mrs. Parker."

She had heard the knock on the door but ignored it, hoping Mrs. Morris would go away but now she was standing by the bed.

"Leave me alone."

"I have, but I cannot let this go on for longer. You must eat something at least."

"Do I? To what end?"

"You must be hungry, you haven't eaten since you got here. I have brought tea and toast with butter."

She had not felt hungry before but at the mentioning of food her empty stomach churned.

"Perhaps I could eat a little", she conceded.

She turned around and saw Mrs. Morris standing there so awkwardly, tray in hand. Pity for the caring servant more than anything else made Charlotte sit up and accept the food. Mrs. Morris left her to eat alone, but returned after a while, bringing another cup of tea.

Charlotte accepted it and the kindness in the middle-aged woman's eyes made her own fill with tears again.

"I'm sorry you are so sad Mrs. Parker."

"It is not your fault."

"I could guess as much." She pursed her mouth. "I don't mean to pry, but I know that such sorrow usually is caused by a man."

"Yes", Charlotte whispered even if a question was not really asked. Suddenly she wished desperately she had someone to confide in. If only Alison had been here, or even Esther.

Mrs. Morris hesitated and took a deep breath.

"I know you do not know me, and I am just a servant, but if you need to get it off your chest, if you need someone who listens, you can talk to me. I swear I am to be trusted, I would not utter a word to anyone else."

She knew it was improper, that one should try to keep one's private affairs away from the servants as much as possible, but she felt like she would break if she had no one to talk to. Still she hesitated and the housekeeper had started turning to leave before she spoke.

"I love him. I love my husband."

The other woman turned back with a look of surprise.

"I didn't when we got married, but I do now. He doesn't know though and he doesn't love me. He sent me away and I don't know how to live through it. How to live without him. How do I?"

Mrs. Morris returned and hesitantly sat down on the bedside and patted her arm. This made Charlotte's crying intensify and suddenly she felt the other woman's motherly arms around her. She allowed herself to be hugged and leaned her cheek against Mrs. Morris' sturdy shoulder.

"Come now Mrs. Parker, just let it out. Have a good cry. No one but me will now. You are a young strong woman and you will get through this."

"Will I? I don't think so. It hurts too much."

"It may not feel like it now, but you can do it one day at a time. You managed to live before you met him, and you will manage to live again. Your heart will mend. It may not be the same as it was before, but it will keep on beating."

She did not believe it, but she allowed herself to be held. They remained like that for a long time, with Mrs. Morris' arms around Charlotte's trembling body. The only sound heard throughout the room was sobbing.

Mrs. Morris had experienced much in her days, but never expected this. It was unheard of that a housekeeper should console the mistress of the house like this, but she had the feeling that if she did not, this girl would break, and she seemed to deserve better. How any man could let a sweet thing like her slip away was beyond her. She had only met Mr. Parker a few times and never quite figured him out. He had seemed very private, lonely even, but he had always been kind to his staff. Men who were good to servants did not usually tend to act cruelly in general, but then again, she had not seen much of him and knew nothing of his motives. It was, however, clear that Mrs. Parker not had chosen to leave him voluntarily and Mrs. Morris' heart bled for her.

Finally, Charlotte pulled away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making such a spectacle of myself but thank you for your kind words. I will try. I would appreciate…"

"Don't worry Mrs. Parker, my lips are sealed."

Even if she barely had met Mrs. Morris, she somehow knew that was the truth.

Charlotte did not leave the room that day either, but she did the next. Encouraged by Mrs. Morris' words she decided that enough was enough and the housekeeper was right, she could not wither away in that room.

When Mrs. Morris came knocking on the door with another breakfast tray, she was happily surprised to find Mrs. Parker dressed already, asking to be brought to the breakfast room instead of having her meal in bed. She never saw the mistress of the house crying again.

Once she had left her chambers, Charlotte began exploring her new home. The house was even larger than the one at Bedford Place though not as elegant. It was almost like a compromise between the luscious London residence and her parents' rustic house in Willingden and she knew she would feel more at home here except for the fact that she was missing Sidney. There were more rooms than she knew what to do with as it was unlikely she would entertain large parties of guests, a decent library and enough servants for her to never do any household work. It was by no means a shabby place Sidney had sent her to, only a very distant one.

The second day of exploration she ventured outdoors. It was late October and the harvest was over since long, leaving the fields cropped and bare. The trees were still flaming in yellow, orange and red, providing a magnificent, almost surrealistic scenery, but she knew this colourful display was the last of the year and that it only would take one stormy night and the twigs would be stripped naked instead. There was an earthy smell to the chilly air and a calmness to the surroundings which somehow seemed to fit her mood. Nature was preparing to hibernate, much like she wanted to herself and she found consolation in that.

After a random walk, she approached the stables which belonged to the estate and had just decided to take a peek inside when she was startled by a male voice.

"This is private property, Miss."

She turned and only now noticed a man leaning against the wall, his face half-shadowed by his hat.

"Oh, I'm sorry I… I didn't intend to trespass, but I think I have the right to be here. I'm Mrs. Parker, my husband owns the estate."

He tilted his head so she could see a pair of friendly eyes and his frown slowly transformed into a wide smile as he took in her words.

"Of course, how stupid of me. Mr. Parker sent me a letter telling me you were coming. My sincere apologies."

"Don't worry, I was not offended. And you are?"

"I'm James Stringer, the groundskeeper. I take care of the estate in your husband's absence. Perhaps we will see more of him here, now that you have come here?"

"I doubt that."

She turned away from him, suddenly feeling choked.

"Oh… I", he paused, refraining from commenting further, because what was there to say? It was none of his business if Mr. and Mr. Parker were planning on living separate lives as she seemed to imply, though he could not imagine why anyone would want to keep a woman like her at distance. Even if she looked a bit pale and tired, she was one of the prettiest girls he ever had seen, with eyes as brown as a squirrel's and lose dark curls mischievously peeping out from under the bonnet. Perhaps she was very annoying? Mr. Parker had told him nothing about the reason for Mrs. Parker's being here, but he had said that if she wished to be involved in the maintenance of the estate he had nothing to object and he considered her knowledgeable enough to be of help. Stringer had snorted when he read that line, wondering how a woman belonging to the London beau monde could be expected to know anything that would be of value here. Now, when he met Mrs. Parker's bright brown eyes he felt less sceptic somehow. Perhaps she would turn out to be a pleasant surprise. Time would tell.

"Allow me to show you around", he kindly offered.

That afternoon and the following days Stringer not only showed Charlotte the stables, but also all the other farm buildings and cottages belonging to the estate, accompanied her exploring the grounds by foot and on horseback and introduced her to the local people, some living on the estate's grounds, some in the nearby village.

"So, what is your opinion of it?" he asked expectantly once their tour was completed.

By then Charlotte had told him of her upbringing on the countryside and her role in handling her father's estate and Stringer had realised it might not be such a farfetched idea that she could be a valuable addition here after all. He still had no clue why she was here instead of with her husband but that was not for him to ask. Mrs. Parker was kind and approachable, clearly intelligent and curious about everything that had to do with the estate, but she volunteered no information about her relationship with Mr. Parker and every time they came to talk about him it was like a shadow passed over her face. There was obviously a history there but not one which she would share and that was only what could be expected. Her husband was after all the owner of the estate and Stringer one of his workers. Consequently, he was her employee too, but already after a few days in her company he knew he would have to remind himself of that frequently because he enjoyed her company far too much.

"I can see you are doing an excellent job looking after the grounds, but it is also apparent that Sidney… my husband is not an active owner. I think there is much potential for improvement if he would only agree to make some investments."

"I agree, but frankly I have been hesitant to ask for too much. "

"If we, or you, write clear proposals and estimate the costs I think he would be willing to spend some money here. The estate is perhaps not on top of his mind, but I do think he wants it to thrive. I mean, why would he not? Land is a good investment if you take care of it. By modernising we could easily both increase the yield and improve the conditions for the workers."

"Aye, I agree Mrs. Parker." He looked amused.

"What's funny?" she asked warily, wondering if he thought her silly.

"Nothing, I'm just impressed. Honestly."

Embarrassed she shrugged her shoulders but also felt encouraged by his words.

Over the next weeks they drafted long-term improvement plans, some of them inspired by Charlotte's father's estate, some were novelties they read about in publications on modern farming. Stringer was continuously amazed by Charlotte's enthusiasm and knowledge, never had he come across a woman like her. She was a lady who could have chosen to comfortably sit on her couch embroidering, but she chose not to. She could easily have replaced him as groundskeeper, and he was glad to unexpectedly have a partner.

For Charlotte it all started as a means to think of something else than Sidney, a task to fill her days and the void inside her, but her engagement in the project soon grew into genuine passion as she and Stringer together painted a vision of what the estate could become if they managed it well.

In his letters, Stringer fed Sidney their ideas piece by piece and asked for the required funding. He always got an encouraging response in return, telling him that Mr. Parker truly appreciated his efforts and was impressed by his inventiveness, knowledge and good sense. Stringer would have liked to tell him that more than half of it originated from his wife, but Charlotte had asked him not to mention her at all in his letters. He wondered if she wrote to her husband herself, but nothing she said indicated that. Stringer's confusion over the Parker's relationship grew in parallel with his admiration for Mrs. Parker, or Charlotte, as she had told him to call her. Who in his right mind would not want to be close to this woman?

The first months were tough for Charlotte and Christmas worst of all as she had none of her dear ones close to her. Sidney had not forbidden her to visit or invite her family, but she was not prepared to let them all know that she and Sidney were living separate lives now. It would raise too many questions and she still did not want to disclose how they had come to marry in the first place. She also knew they would see that she was unhappy, blame Sidney and make her feel ashamed for so foolishly loving him despite that he was the source of her misery. Of course, she would invite them sooner or later, but not now and so she spent the Christmas alone. Her only comfort was Alison's long letters. The sister she always shared everything with was devastated for her but could not do much as Charlotte did not allow her to.

On Christmas Day Charlotte had dinner alone, opened the gifts from her family that had been passed on from London and wept because there was no word from Sidney. She continued crying when she went outside to make snow angels, something which always had been a Christmas tradition with her siblings, then lay still on the ground letting snowflakes fall on her until she was freezing cold.

"It can only improve from here", she said out loud to the dark sky, but the only response was more whirling snowflakes, confirming this was something she had to endure alone. So, she got to her feet, brushed off the snow and went inside, where she fell asleep reading a book in front of the fireplace.

Fortunately, her prediction turned out to be true; things got better from there. In the new year, she and James Stringer began setting their plans in motion, in parallel with the gradual return of daylight and warmer weather. Charlotte felt like life slowly was restored to her after a dormancy, much like it was to the surrounding nature. When the first new grass sprouted and the apple trees began to blossom, her spirits rose. She still missed Sidney every day but not every moment of the day. She feared that part of her always would yearn for him, but she knew by now that Mrs. Morris was right. She would survive. Her heart would mend, re-shaped compared to how it was before she met him, but at least beating. She did not expect to ever find love again and it would anyway be useless as she was a married woman, but she had found other purpose with her life. She was of use here and could make a difference not only for the estate but for the people living here. It was enough. It had to be.

In addition to measures aiming to modernise the farming and improve the workers' cottages, Charlotte also came engage herself in the education of the local children. In Willingden her father had helped to fund a teacher who schooled he village children, to at least teach them basic reading and math skills, but here she was appalled to discover there was no schooling at all. Stringer told her that even if there had been a teacher, many parents might be reluctant to let their children spend time studying instead of helping in the household or in the fields as soon as they were old enough to contribute.

"But if they are able to read and count their prospects will be so much better. It seems totally unfair that they won't get the opportunity!" Charlotte protested vehemently.

Stringer smiled at her passion.

"I agree with you and perhaps they could be convinced of the benefits so they would let their children attend for a few hours a week, but the fact remains we don't have a teacher."

She frowned her brow, thinking for a while.

"Then I will do it. I will teach the children."

"Mrs. Parker…"

"Charlotte, I have said."

"Charlotte, I'm not sure it is appropriate."

"Who is to decide? My husband?" She looked over her shoulder. "He is nowhere to be seen. The London high society? Nowhere to be seen either. Perhaps the villagers will find it inappropriate but, if I can help the children to a better future by teaching them, I don't care."

He shook his head at her stubbornness but did not object further. Instead he helped her to set up a class room in an empty warehouse in the village and joined her as she visited the parents trying to convince them to let their children attend for at least a few hours a week. Many were hesitant initially, but they trusted Stringer and liked Mrs. Parker and the changes she had initiated since she came. She was so enthusiastic and seemed to genuinely care about their children, so in the end the majority allowed the children to go and the rest followed in a few weeks.

Like this, Charlotte filled her days and gradually the razor-sharp grief over Sidney gave way for something else. The intense feeling of loss turned into an ever-present dull ache, always there in the background but forgotten in between. She could focus on achieving things, on doing things for others and with time she found herself capable of smiling again, not only on the outside. The first time she laughed out loud, she cut it off in surprise. She had not thought she would laugh like that ever again. When Sidney told her to leave it had felt like all her future laughter was extracted from her, but here it was, only buried deep within and brought out by the joyous children. That was the moment she knew for sure she would live, not only survive. She may never again love another man, but she was able to feel joy.

Still, the lonely nights remained hard. She dined alone, sat in front of the fire reading alone, went to bed alone and always wondered what Sidney was doing now. She tried to push away all thoughts of him together with Mrs. Campion and only remember him as he had been on the good days because even if it did not make her less in love with him, it was less painful. In her imagination, during day as well as night time, he was always hers. No matter how futile, she could not stop dreaming of what it would be like to be with him. Her lack of knowledge set frustrating limitations, yet her imagination managed to play vivid scenes of her touching and kissing his skin, having his arms around her, nestling by the crook of his neck, burning under his caresses. She still wanted him despite what he had done to her. It would have been easier to hate him, but she could not.

There were moments when she had pondered if she ever would be able to let someone else into her heart. Like when James on day jumped over a muddy ditch to pick her the first spring flowers they spotted but accidentally dropped his boot in the mud. She watched him laugh, caring more about holding on to the small bunch of violets than rescuing his boot. His laughter was as warming as the first rays of sun, his face so happy. And handsome, it struck her as an afterthought. It was not an intimidating handsomeness, like she had thought about Sidney the first time she saw him. In fact, they were quite the opposite. Both men had thick, wavy hair but there the likeness ended. James was hair was honey coloured and his eyes a hazel brown with a cheerful glimmer. Sidney's curls were dark and even when he was in a good mood his eyes were almost black and their expression could shift from hard onyx to soft velvet. His stare could sometimes be so intense that she had felt naked and flushed under it.

James' face and body language were always friendly and open, he was approachable and easy to like. With a few exceptions, Sidney radiated tension and distance but that made her value the rare moments when he let her inside so much more. When he opened up to her it was like receiving a precious gift. She had thought she was on her way to permeate that hard outer shell of his, to reach him, but she had been wrong. When they had said goodbye it had been like talking to a wall.

James was gentle and carefree. Sidney seemed hard and stern but had experienced pain and was vulnerable underneath. Sending her away had been a despicable thing to do but saving her in the first place utterly selfless. He was so complex that it was impossible to understand him. How could she be so in love with a man who had not allowed her to understand him?

James was uncomplicated and loveable. What one saw was what one got.

Could she ever love someone like him?

Him?
The thought took her by surprise and curiously she deliberated with herself for a few moments. Any woman would be lucky to have him as her husband for sure, but even if she had not been married already it would not have mattered. If she had met him before Sidney perhaps she might have fallen in love with him, but Sidney was imprinted on her heart and there could be no other. With Sidney it had not been love at first sight, but she instinctively knew she would love him for always.

She had proven to herself that she could live without him, but she was certain she would not fall in love with anyone else.

"A penny for them."

"Sorry?" She felt her cheeks turn hot.

"A penny for your thoughts."

He finally managed to put his boot on again, agilely jumped out of the ditch and handed her the flowers.

"Thank you. I was thinking about love and how unpredictable it is. Do you have a special girl James?"

"I do. You have met her. Isabella, Mr. Parson's daughter. We got engaged over Christmas."
"Oh, I didn't know. Congratulations! I'm happy for you."

She was, but simultaneously there was a sting in her heart, because she wished for such happiness too.

"She is jealous of you sometimes", he confessed with a sheepish smile.

"Me? Why?"

"Because we spend so much time together and she knows I admire you. She says I can talk to you about things I never discuss with her. I cannot tell her it isn't so because it is true."

"But there is nothing for her to worry about. I'm a married woman."

"I guess it is because Mr. Parker is not here."

She remained silent a few moments, so he began wondering if he had offended her.

"Are people talking much about it?"

"Not much, but a bit, I'm afraid. I tell them not to if I hear any gossip, but they are curious."

She sighed.

"Of course they are. I would be if I were them. I will share the truth with you, and you can share it with Isabella if it makes her feel better about you spending time with me."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise over the unexpected confidence.

"My husband does not love me and that is why he sent me here, but I love him and will never love anyone else. I am his wife even if he does not want me."

"Charlotte, how can he not?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I think he had given his heart to someone else long before we met and could not change that, but I don't know for sure."

"For what it is worth, it is beyond my comprehension how he could send you away. He has always been a good master but between the two of you, my loyalty lies with you. I want you to know that."

"Thank you James, I'm very flattered but you will never have to choose. He is in London and I am here, and I suppose we will lead our separate lives until the end of our days."

"Perhaps you will but you deserve better. I hope you know that."

"I do, even if I can think of much worse places to be. Now tell me, when are you and Isabella planning to have you wedding? If there is anything you need that I can help you with? I would only be so happy. You have to introduce me properly to her so she can see for herself I'm quite harmless."
They continued their walk together, chatting amicably, safe in the knowledge that they had a friend in one another and that that was all there was to it.

Then came two letters, turning her world upside down once again.

The first one was from Esther. It was not the first time she wrote her missing friend, but this time it was to tell Charlotte they would meet again in a near future as she and Babington would marry nearby. It made her heart beat erratically. She wondered if it meant he would come too.

A few weeks later a letter came from Sidney. It was polite and impersonal and told her she could indeed expect him to arrive for the wedding.

Even if she had understood he might come from the moment Esther wrote her the wedding was to be here, she had not known for sure until then. His bold, sweeping letters changed everything. She had found peace here, now he would come and disturb it. Charlotte did not know what to expect from the meeting. The mere thought of being in the same room as him again made her tremble with equal measures of fear and longing. It made her furious. Her time here had made her feel stronger and more independent. Why did he have to come here and disturb that?

She was determined she would overcome her fears and bury her need for him. She was not the same weak girl who had left Bedford Place in October. She was someone without him and intended to remain so even if he came here. She loved her husband but had no intention to make him feel welcome here. She was done being hurt by Sidney Parker.