He announces to his parents that afternoon that they're leaving the following morning. Patrick looks strangely at him and Violet gasps.
"Why? When you have just proposed to Charlotte. She can't have turned you down, Lord Hexham can't have said no."
"You are correct Mama, neither of them said no, because I never asked."
"What!? What are you saying? I bought you all this way for nothing." Robert then explains the whole situation to his shocked parents before returning to help his valet pack, it didn't surprise Robert that when he'd told his parents what had happened they'd both smiled, pleased no doubt that they have a son with a romantic notion. If only I could one day marry a woman whom I love he thinks. If only a woman as lovely as Charlotte exists somewhere, waiting for him. Waiting for him preferably at the season he's just about to attend.
He leaves the rest of the packing and heads back downstairs desperate for one last walk in the hills he has learned to love. The hills in which he wishes one day to bring the woman he loves whether she be his wife or not. As he walks and wanders over the verges and through the heather he hears the tinkling laugh that can only belong to Charlotte. She comes into view Thomas at her side, they are deep in conversation and do not notice him.
"Are you sure Thomas, are you sure Mr Crawley had a hand in this?"
"Quite sure." Looking up he sees the man in question. "In fact, here he is, you may ask him now, I'll meet you back at the house." Charlotte drops her parasol upon seeing Robert and he only just manages to open his arms in time to catch her, she peepers his face with kisses, each one accompanied with 'thank you.' Robert lets her continue, however strange it seems to have another mans fiancée wrapped around him. She eventually gets down, or rather falls down the moment her legs hit the earth again, Robert sets her on her feet again.
"I hope Thomas' house definitely has room for a bedroom downstairs, you're going to need it." She laughs and then her face turns serious.
"Thank you, you have no idea how much. Thomas tells me it was you who sorted it all with aunt?"
"Yes, yes it was."
"What did you say to persuade her?"
"Only that you are a wonderful woman that shouldn't be deprived of a wonderful love. Not if you've found one, which you have. You see, Charlotte, I have to marry an heiress, that narrows the number of women I have to choose to be my wife, meaning there will be a far, far smaller chance I will have a marriage like you will have. I wanted in my future life, that is likely to be loveless, at least from my wife, to be able to say that I do know that love exists in marriage and that I was the means of it coming about, it would make me sleep easier for the rest of my life knowing that you were happy." Charlotte stops walking, a tear sliding down her face.
"You can't be sure you'll never find love."
"No, but I can be sure that's it's mighty unlikely."
"I can't believe you did this for me, even with your explanation."
"You deserve it, everyone deserves a chance of love if it comes their way."
"You deserve it more than most, you know that Robert, for doing this for Thomas and I."
"That's exactly what your uncle said. But, I will say to you what I said to him, I don't think the world works like that."
"It should." There's a pause in the conversation as they walk a little further. "Uncle said something about some American heiress that is very pretty, perhaps you shall marry her."
"Perhaps I shall, I only hope that I may be able to learn to love her."
"Will you promise that you will write during the season and tell me what you do, who you decide to marry."
"If you wish me to."
"I do, very much so, Thomas will like to hear as well." They pad on in silence until Charlotte huffs again, and just like the first day he arrived, drops her possessions on to the ground before falling to it herself. Untying both boots this time in rapid succession followed by several mutterings. She then tips them both upside down and stones and other debris falls from them before she begins the long and slow job of retying them.
"You're staring again Mr Crawley. I suppose I have got a green bottom again."
"No, no, it's more brown this time from the mud." She spins on the spot.
"Oops, did I sit in mud, oh well, it'll come off no doubt."
"I believe I know how you get the stones in your shoes in the first place."
"You do?" She seems so confident that he doesn't know, that Robert can't help smiling gleefully to himself.
"Yes, when you go down to the stream and bathe your feet."
"I'd already told you that."
"Yes, I know. But, think about it. Stones couldn't get in them if you leave them upright by the stream."
"No, I don't suppose they can't. I always suppose they came from my feet, the transition from river to boot."
"But surely you put your stockings back on."
"Why, yes, I do."
"Exactly. So the stones must be being put in your shoes, by Thomas, when you're not looking." Her face lights up in excitement.
"He'll pay for that. I'll get him next time. Wait, how did you know he comes to the river with me, I never told you that."
"I heard the two of you a few days ago. It was how I learnt about your love, it was when I decided I was going to act in any way I could to help you."
"I'll never be able to thank you enough." They walk on again in comfortable silence. "Robert, stop a moment. I promise you right now, that you will experience love, genuine love in your life."
"Charlotte, we both know you can't promise such things."
"I can, because I'm going to give it to you."
"You're marrying Thomas, you can't-"
"Let me finish. I'm going to kiss you." Before he has a chance to say anything against such an action, how inappropriate when she is engaged to another and such like. Her soft, full lips have found his and as she slides her tongue along his lips he can't help but open his mouth to her and hold her to him. He knows it's wrong, but he can't help it. Her tongue swirls with his and he hears his own gasp of her name at the feeling it evokes. When she pulls away Robert doesn't hide the fact he's disappointed. "That, was a kiss of genuine love, it shows my gratitude to you, for all you've done. If you find a woman who kisses you with more passion than that. You've found your girl. Goodbye Robert, and keep me informed." With that she pounds off, her dirty bottom disappearing into the distance. Robert looks down. What are the chances, infinitesimal, he decides, of finding a woman as lovely as Charlotte.
As he sat in the library at Grantham house, a week or so later, Robert still thought of that kiss, he could still feel exactly what Charlotte's lips had felt like moulded to his. He turns the pages of the newspaper absentmindedly, he father is sat beside him drawing up a list of all the heiresses for the season and how much money they have and so on. His mother had give him lectures every other night over the said list, exclaiming about which woman was best and this that and the other. Robert paid little or no attention, so far no woman had captured his attention the way Charlotte had. Robert turned next to the society pages and before him where the pictures of all the debutantes from the previous day, he found Charlotte's picture beneath which was an announcement of her engagement. Robert sighed, ready to give up the paper entirely when the name below Charlotte's caught his attention: Miss Cora Levinson. And for the first time since seeing Charlotte, Robert was blown away by the beauty before him, and that was merely on a piece of paper, imagine in real life. The name Miss Cora Levinson died on his lips that night as he fell to sleep. Little did he know what the future would hold: the said Miss Cora Levinson as his wife laying in his arms as they each dreamt of the other.