Chapter Nineteen
It was twilight. The Sheriff and Charlotte were deep in conversation in his bedroom, the Sheriff relaxing in his chair and Charlotte sitting on an uncomfortable wooden stool opposite him. The remains of dinner lay discarded on a tray on a small table, both of them too profoundly lost in the discussion to call for a servant to take it away.
One solitary tear ran down Charlotte's cheek. For some reason which the Sheriff could not comprehend, that one tear meant more to Vaizey than if Charlotte had burst into tears.
"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, making Charlotte look up at him in surprise. "What's wrong?" Charlotte wiped the tear from her cheek with her sleeve.
"I'm fine," she mumbled in reply. When he looked at her unbelievingly, she repeated, "I'm fine, really!"
"Is having a conscience supposed to hurt so much?" the Sheriff groaned, rising from his chair and walking over to Charlotte, who nodded and gave a small smile.
"Yeah, you had better get used to it," she replied knowingly.
"Damn." The Sheriff fingered the split ends of Charlotte's practically massacred hair, guilt heavy in the pit of his stomach.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, stroking her jaw line. "I was a fool."
"Are you kidding me?" Charlotte replied, astonishing the Sheriff. "I'm the freak who set a room on fire." Vaizey chuckled humourlessly.
"I was so proud of you when you didn't cry, but so angry. I wanted so much to humiliate you, to cause you pain. Now I realise that I was wrong." Vaizey buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.
"Oh, I'm not upset about that!" Charlotte laughed, the sound more like a bark. "Not much, anyway."
"Then what are you upset about?" Vaizey asked, pulling away to look at her. Charlotte took a deep breath, her whole body shaking. This concerned Vaizey.
"Ewan is dead."
Her words rang in his ears, loud and painful. Vaizey was again furious, but felt compassion for Charlotte, who was suffering deeply. He was a changed man.
"How do you know?" Vaizey asked, taking Charlotte's hand. The warmth of his kind gesture made Charlotte shiver again, but in a nice way.
"Remember when I borrowed your horse?" she asked, and he nodded. "I felt that something was wrong. He…" her words faltered as her courage gave out. Vaizey gripped her hand tighter. "He died in my arms."
Vaizey held her in a tight embrace for quite some time, murmuring words of comfort in her ear. Charlotte's breath was ragged from her effort not to cry, and her heart felt numb. Only the Sheriff's gentle voice held the tears back. The tension in the air was almost tangible, like a delicate spider web laced over the room. Charlotte felt anger, loss and grief overwhelming her, but relief and love fought back. The Sheriff felt like a war was raging in his head; fury at Ewan's unsuitable (for his plan) death, anger at Ewan for leaving Charlotte alone, confusion at his newfound feelings- fiery love and overwhelming desire.
Vaizey looked down at the seemingly frail woman he held, both passionately angry with her for messing up his life, and passionately and irrevocably in love with her. He felt as if he could drive a sword through her heart at any moment, but hated himself for even considering doing such a terrible thing. Vaizey also felt possessive; Charlotte was his. Fighting off internal conflict, he lifted her chin gently with one finger.
Charlotte's heart began to race, beating like a drum within her ribcage, as if it was trying to escape. The Sheriff's eyes, she noted, were a mixture of brown and swirls of green. They were vibrant with longing, boring into her own. Vaizey's eyes were screaming 'Mine!', which excited and terrified Charlotte at the same time.
Suddenly Vaizey was kissing her, gently at first. The next series of events was like a whirlwind, too fast for either person to grasp what was happening.
"I love you," Charlotte murmured in his ear. "So much." The Sheriff's heart swelled with emotions he could not understand. Yet, no matter how hard Vaizey tried, he could not admit his feelings to her. It was against his nature.
But he had to say it.
"I love you," he replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. That was it! He had revealed his weakness. Years of defying all emotions other than greed and self-love had made the Sheriff bitter, forcing him to believe that love was weak. Until now. It was like he could finally breathe, no longer stifled by his own restrictions.
Charlotte stared at him in disbelief, then was totally and utterly enraptured.
. . .
Charlotte did not return to her room that night. Marian waited for her until midnight, but she never came. Exasperated, Marian tried to sleep. She drifted off for a while, but her dreams became nightmares and she awoke in a pool of cold sweat.
Morning came with the twittering of birds and the sounds of human activity. Still Charlotte did not return. On her bed, Marian noticed a sack filled with mysterious shaped objects. Curious, she undid the string around it and opened it up.
Inside was a note that read "For the gang".
It was late morning by the time that Marian could escape the castle and Sir Guy's amorous gaze. She thundered into the forest on her bay mare, emotions swirling around her head. Charlotte was so confusing.
"Whoa!" Robin halted the mare, jumping out in front of them. Marian and the horse were taken by surprise, making the mare shy away from Robin. Marian had to grip tightly with her legs or else fall off her horse. Eventually the mare calmed down, much to both Robin and Marian's relief. "What's wrong?" Robin asked, which momentarily confused Marian. She had not realised that tears were rolling down her cheeks. Hastily she wiped them away.
"Charlotte has disappeared," she told him. Robin grinned.
"She'll be back before you know it," he assured her. Sighing, Marian produced the sack of Charlotte's belongings.
"She left these." Marian said, dismounting and handing the sack to Robin.
"Ah." The grin was wiped from Robin's face.
To Much, Charlotte had left a silver soupspoon. He was rapt when Robin handed it to him, and was immediately eager to make dinner. To John, Charlotte left a small dagger. The big man received his gift wordlessly, but the delight was obvious in his face. To Allan, she left a foreign gold coin on a chain. Allan also received his gift wordlessly, but that was because he was miserable and felt rejected. To Djaq, Charlotte left one of Arthur's instruments which she had salvaged, with a note saying, "From our dear friend Arthur." To Will, Charlotte left her most prized possession of all: her engagement ring from Daniel.
"You may be needing this in the near future," Robin read aloud to Will, who was illiterate. Will smiled warmly.
'Hopefully I will,' he thought.
To Marian, Charlotte left one of the shells from her anklet. It was pure white and totally circular shaped, as well as smooth. Marian threaded a cord through the hole that Charlotte had made for that purpose, and wore the necklace every day.
Charlotte's sweet honey scent still lingered, even after many years. A small smile graced Marian's lips every time she stroked the shell. Charlotte may have been long gone, but her cherished friendship lived on in Marian's heart.
To Robin, Charlotte left a ring with a golden owl on it- her insignia. Like Marian, he smiled every time he looked at it. Her time with them had been so short, but so precious.
"She was a strange one, wasn't she?" Much said as he served dinner with his new most prized possession. Robin chuckled.
"Fair Lady Charlotte."
To Vaizey, Sheriff of Nottingham, Charlotte left her heart. As the Sheriff gazed out the window at the setting sun, he fingered the ring that Charlotte had slipped on to his finger. Last night that gesture had been meaningless. Now he understood.
The little golden owl perched on his ring finger, studying him with its gleaming black eyes. Little did he know that it was the sister of the ones that Robin had been given and the one that Charlotte wore on her own finger. "I love you," she had said.
"I love you too," the Sheriff murmured, picturing her shining face, her honey blonde hair and her wide, innocent eyes.
Suddenly he shook his head. Honestly, what would he do with a wife? They were only good for complaining and making more hungry mouths to feed. A small smile spread over his lips. Vaizey wondered what life would have been like with the eccentric, chaotic Charlotte. Then he shook his head again.
Hope- ugh. The Sheriff would sooner die than spend his whole life hoping.
As the dying sun bled crimson streaks across the afternoon sky, Charlotte trudged through the forest. The trees reminded her of soldiers standing at attention, each tall and proud. Charlotte was thinking of her friends, and her second love. She did not stop walking, however. Charlotte had to make it to the next village, where she had already asked to work as a maid in the manor house. She had to make it there before nightfall, or else risk being caught by outlaws. That last word brought a smile.