Hey y'all, thanks so much for the reviews thus far. As you'll see, things are beginning to get pretty complicated, and I've got some exciting tricks up my sleeve in the next few chapters. Please remember to review; it definitely helps me get new chapters written and posted sooner! Hope everyone's been having excellent holidays. :)

Chapter Six

"Peter, darling, I'm afraid I feel very ill this day," Lydia signed into Peter's neck the next morning. She had risen late but declined breakfast anyways when Mrs. Pevensie offered to reheat things. "It is this cold, I think."

"It can't be too much colder here than in Paris," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking out the window. Edmund was showing Charlie how he had set the telescope up to spy on their neighbors while Susan rolled her eyes, probably insisting that this was awfully inappropriate. Everything was awfully inappropriate to Susan, which made her friendship with Charlie that much more amusing, because everything seemed appropriate to Charlotte. Perhaps it was being an American, or perhaps it was growing up in the poverty that Peter had managed to figure out had plagued her childhood. American events might not be his forte, but he did recall that though all of America had suffered during their recent economical depression, the farmers in states like Oklahoma had suffered the most. There were holes in his understanding, of course, and though he had pieced together that at least Charlotte wound up in California and there got discovered and put into the movies, he wasn't quite sure how she got there, nor how she eventually found herself in Paris, nor where the fiancé fit into the whole puzzle. Actually, everything surrounding this friend of Susan's seemed at once puzzling and exciting, and Peter felt like he himself was sitting in the cinema, watching a film starring her. Gradually, frame by frame, more of the story unraveled, and no doubt by the time the credits rolled around, he would have it all sorted out. He had never been one to leave any stones unturned in the pursuit of answers to whatever questions he came up with during his sleepless nights.

". . . children," he heard Lydia say, and that startled him out of watching his siblings and back to the girl clinging to his neck.

"Um . . . could you say that again?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't take offense that he hadn't been listening.

She giggled, "Oh, Peter, you think too much. I was saying that I think we should only bring the children to visit here during the summer. It's dreadful too cold for little ones, I think."

"Well I managed it just fine," he laughed. "And I'm a better man for it!"

"Well I don't want my sons to be better men for it; I want them to survive to adulthood." Peter didn't quite understand in what way he hadn't survived to adulthood, but he let it slide as she sighed, "I do wish your mother had green tea. I believe it would make me feel much less ill."

"Does she not?"

"No, I have asked her already. Oh!" she suddenly gasped, "I hope she has not taken offense to it!" Edmund, Susan, and Charlotte were coming back inside, stomping the melting snow from their boots just outside the back door.

"I doubt she has. But I tell you what. Since you're a bit under the weather, why don't you go rest in bed for a bit and I'll run to the store and find you some green tea."

"Oh, Peter darling, that's why I love you. You are so kind to do such a thing," Lydia beamed. She kissed him squarely on the mouth before flouncing upstairs with a bit less than her usual energy, due to being under the weather. In her wake, he saw Charlie lift an eyebrow at him before turning away to laugh and unwind the scarf from around her throat. They had sat up half the night before, and one of the stories he had told had been of the Pevensies aiding Prince Caspian in reclaiming Narnia. He had mentioned that Susan had kissed Caspian moments before they left, and while Lucy and Ed had been disgusted, he himself had been somewhat envious because he was older and hadn't yet kissed anyone. Then he had felt a momentary embarrassment admitting that, but Charlie had laughed at him that he was far too romantic for a boy and probably belonged as an actual knight in Medieval Europe rather than here in 1948 England. For whatever reason, she never questioned the mixing of story with reality. Who had Susan kissed if Prince Caspian were simply a figment of the children's imagination?

As though to assure Peter of what she had been thinking, Charlie snickered, "I suppose by now you've outdone Susan, huh Peter?"

"Outdone Susan in what?" Susan intervened while Peter felt his neck flush at the audacious suggestion.

"Whispering sweet nothings into people's ears," Charlie answered, whispering this into Susan's neck to make her laugh and bat her scandalous friend away.

To hide his embarrassment, Peter announced to no one in particular, "Lydia is a bit under the weather so I'm headed to the store. I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, might we run out, too, Su?" Charlie asked, turning to Susan expectantly.

"Sick of our house already?" Ed teased, edging past her to hang his things in the entry way. He clearly had no desire to go.

"Oh, no, it's not that! Only that I haven't seen anything outside of the yard yet, really. Please, Suzie?"

"How can I say no to someone who whispers such sweet nothings into my ear?" Susan sighed, reknotting her scarf. "We'd best ask Lucy if she wants to go, too." Lucy had been drawing serenely in her room but of course did want to go, and moments later what Peter had assumed would be a quick solitary trip turned into a parade of him and the girls. Lucy was thrilled at the chance to go somewhere with Peter and without Lydia, and quickly slipped her arm into her eldest brother's. Charlotte and Susan copied them and walked behind, giggling amongst themselves about something like two schoolgirls.

The tea shoppe Peter had been thinking of wasn't too far away, and the girls sniffed the various boxes of tea leaves while Peter asked the store owner to just pick out a good green tea for him; he sure knew nothing about green teas. While they talked, sudden laughter made both men turn to the girls, Susan and Lucy laughing as Charlotte began sneezing wildly, having sucked some sort of fine black tea straight up through her nostrils. Peter paid quickly and they left under the store owner's firm stare, Charlie still sneezing sporadically for several more minutes. Without anyone suggesting it, they continued to wander, stopping occasionally to gaze into a store window and admire a hat or a fabric or some oddity.

As they passed Victoria Park, Susan sighed, "It is nice to see the gates back, isn't it?"

"They've been back for two years. Where have you been?" Peter snorted.

"Yes, I know, but felt like such a long time . . . I didn't feel like the war was really over until we got our gates back."

"Were they damaged in bombing?" Charlotte inquired, pausing to admire the park.

"No, they were used to make guns for a navy ship," Lucy answered. "It was very sad when the old ones went away, but the new ones are lovely, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Charlie agreed. After a moment of thought, she added, "It must have been so strange being in the middle of a war. Was it very?"

"What do you mean? I thought America was in the war too," Lucy returned.

"We were, but none of the fighting took place on American soil except for Pearl Harbor, which is in Hawaii and a long way from Oklahoma. London was bombed though, wasn't it?"

Peter answered this time, "A couple times. At one point, they evacuated all the children from London. If you didn't have relatives outside the city – which we don't – you got sent to strangers' houses, people who agreed to take in children."

"Were you four split up?"

"No, we were all together at Professor Kirke's. He's a very nice old gentleman who had a large estate out in the countryside. Oh, Peter, we haven't sent him a Christmas card, have we? And I do hope you're planning on inviting him to your graduation . . . you probably wouldn't be there without him, you know."

To Charlie, he quickly explained, "The exams were extremely difficult, you see, so I went and stayed with Professor Kirke for a summer to study . . . it was the summer Su went to America."

"Yes, but to New York," Charlie snorted. "That hardly counts as America, only seeing the one city. If I ever had any desire to go back, I would take you to California, maybe, or perhaps Massachu-- There's a stationary shop; you could buy a card in there." She seemed to dislike her sentence halfway through and interrupted herself, pointing to a shop across the street.

Inside smelled like the pages of a dusty old book. Shelves of handcrafted journals dominated a wall, while the opposite wall displayed cardstock and fancy stationary. Racks throughout the store presented postcards and specialized occasion cards. Not trusting Peter to select a good one, Susan enlisted Charlie to help her read through the racks for a Christmas card with a worthwhile drawing. Meanwhile, Peter and Lucy migrated to the back wall where the store was selling old magazines and photographs and even a bin of movie posters from films no longer in the cinema. Peter flipped disinterestedly through the old photographs, amused at some of the outdated clothing styles and envious of a few soldier portraits.

He heard Lucy gasp and then hiss, "Peter, come quickly."

"What is it, Lu?" he asked, setting the photographs he had been studying down and crossing to look over her shoulder where she had been digging through the poster bin. She motioned to one partially pulled out, a poster for a movie called My Lady Harriet, a film Peter couldn't remember hearing about – but then he hadn't been to the cinema much since he began uni.

"What?" he repeated, but when Lucy insisted he look, he studied the poster more closely. Lucy giggled when he gasped.

"Is has to be her, doesn't it?" Lucy whispered, glancing over her shoulder to where Charlotte was still perusing cards with Susan.

"Maybe not . . . no, you're right, it must be her," Peter relented. It was unmistakable. Beneath the title, which was written in white in a fancy cursive script, was the undeniable image of Charlotte. Her back was facing out, but she was looking over her shoulder at the camera . . . it had to be her.

"We have to buy it," Lucy whispered. "How much is it? I have my allowance still."

"I wonder if there are any of her other—"

"Peter, Lucy, are you two almost finished?" Susan called across the store. Both jumped and Peter quickly answered that they were.

"What are we going to—"

"You go out and stall them outside. I'll ask the lady to hold it for me and come back this afternoon."

"Goody, perfect!" Lucy beamed, and Peter grinned to see how happy the plan made her. Whether the poster was actually Charlotte or not, or whether Charlotte even wanted it or not, it was good to see Lucy happy with him again. While she went to put into action her half, Peter left it at the desk, promising to come back and get it in a few hours.

The group wandered a bit longer before deciding it best to head home so Lydia could have her tea. Besides they were all getting hungry and though they had probably missed lunch, hopefully Mrs. Pevensie had set aside the meal for them.

Lydia was excited by the tea and felt well enough to join the rest of the house in the afternoon. This was well and good until Peter realized he couldn't very well take her with him to buy the poster. She knew he had purchased Charlie's train ticket, and at the time had made the comment that it was so nice of him but he had better be careful about buying things for young ladies or there would be rumors. She had said it lightly enough, but he wasn't so dense not to recognize the warning in her voice as to how a proper sweetheart of hers should behave towards other young women. Perhaps she would understand the novelty of buying the poster, but perhaps she wouldn't, and he certainly didn't want to upset her this close to Christmas.

He fretted all afternoon about how to kindly keep her home, which she noticed and pressed, "Peter darling, are you anxious about something?"

"Ah . . . I . . ."

"Oh," she mused, her pink lips suddenly screwing into a meaningful smile. "Is it something I can't know about?"

"Well . . . yes. . ."

She gasped and her eyes glittered as she pressed cautiously, "Might you need to run an errand and not know how to ask me to stay behind?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he grinned. Really the girl was fantastic. No wonder he was so in love with her. "That's exactly it."

"Say no more. I will be happy here and you may go and get whatever it is you need to get." She gave him a knowing smile then scurried away as though afraid to delay him any longer.

Well that was easy enough, he mused to himself as he slipped on his coat and departed quietly from the house. Lucy made some comment that she had pointed out a gift she wanted in a window and perhaps he was going to get that, and no one questioned it.

The lady at the shop waved as he entered again, and assured him cheerfully, "I have your poster here still." She was young, probably recently finished with school and working in her father's store.

"Splendid, thanks." She clearly had something further to say, though. "Yes?"

"I . . . I'm sorry, perhaps I'm out of line. But I looked at the poster and . . . you were in here earlier with three young ladies, and one of them looked remarkably like . . . were you with Charlotte Auburn?"

Well there was certainly no mistaking it now. It absolutely must be Charlie on the poster, and furthermore the fact that this woman knew her name must mean she was a bit more of a star than she had thus far let on.

Peter looked at the woman suspiciously and answered slowly, "If I say yes, does that mean something?"

"I should think so!" the woman gasped.

"Is she very famous then?"

"Well she was going to be," the woman sighed. "Very promising young actress . . . and to think, she's here in London! Oh my, I simply can't believe it . . ."

"She's a friend of my sister's, you see, in Paris, and my sister's brought her home for Christmas. Our family doesn't exactly go to the cinema much, though, you see, so we don't exactly—we aren't exactly up to date on the stars, I suppose."

The woman seemed to understand the question and grinned, "Paris! Well, there were rumors that was where she had gone. Granted, I don't know how many of the rumors are true . . . but they say she was just a poor farm girl, starving to death even! She was discovered singing in a saloon. Imagine just being discovered like that. So they put her in the films and she was doing so well. Started with a minor part, and then had a very strong supporting role in In Winter – oh, she was splendid, and so innocent! And then she did . . . which came next? I suppose Chickee came next, or perhaps Piano Gal, which was a musical. She sang in Chickee, too, though. She really can sing, if you haven't heard her yet," the woman explained. She seemed genuinely excited by this all. "She was the lead female in both of those and then she did this film, a film noir they call it, My Lady Harriet. Femme fatale, I should say. She's stunningly gorgeous in it. Breathtaking, I should say. And then the rumors . . . well." She ended with a shrug, turning quickly away.

"What about the rumors?" Peter pressed curiously.

She insisted, "Well I don't know whether they're true or not. They being rumors and all."

"What were the rumors?"

"Well," she whispered, leaning in as though afraid someone might hear them. The store was empty. "The rumor is that her director fell in love with her and left his wife and four kids, and the two of them fled the scandal to Paris. I heard they were together for quite some time, though, before he left his wife, and they didn't exactly keep it secret from the wife, if you know what I mean. Apparently he about bankrupted himself buying her gifts, and him with a family to take care of! He used his family's last money, they say, to buy their passage to Paris . . . I suppose the world is different in Hollywood and she probably could have kept acting, even with such scandal. I don't know. But she hasn't been seen or heard from since . . . and then you said she lives in Paris now . . . is she married, do you know?"

Peter felt dirty. He didn't know whether the rumors were true or not, but regardless, he felt sick even hearing them. So either Charlotte was a –well, he wouldn't say it—or else she was the victim of horrible slander. He didn't know what the truth was, but he didn't feel right answering the question, either. What if he said something to instigate further rumors?

"No, she isn't. She lives with my sister," he answered quickly, suddenly wanting to be gone.

"Oh. I wonder . . . but she's in London! And I didn't even ask her autograph! Might you . . . you see, I've seen all her films. I have a copy of the poster for Piano Gal, too. If I throw it in, might you drop an autograph by? I would appreciate it so much."

Peter would agree to almost anything at this point, and nodded. He handed over the money, took the two posters she had wrapped in brown paper with a board to keep them in good condition, and hurried home. Lydia and Charlotte had been talking in the entry way about something secret, but when the door flew open Lydia yipped and dragged Charlie into the living room with everyone else, giggling about Peter's secret errand. This suited him just fine; he was suddenly in a terrible mood. He hurried up to his room, grateful Ed wasn't there, and locked the door behind him to rip off the paper from the posters and lay them on the ground to look down at.

Piano Gal looked to be a patriotic movie. The words were made to look like the American flag, and took up nearly the entire poster. Standing in the bottom right corner was a handsome young man in a navy uniform, and perched daintily on the "o" in the word 'piano' was Charlie, donning a short red, white, and blue dress and a white sailors cap, her long legs crossed as she laughed at the camera, her hair falling in long curls around her shoulders.

The poster for My Lady Harriet, which Peter had only glimpsed at earlier, showed a Charlotte that seemed to have matured a lot in a short time. Whereas in the first poster she was sexy in a young, playful way – it was a pin-up girl photo, Peter had to call it sexy, even if the mere word made him flush, much less in conjunction with Charlie—the second poster showed a very confident sexuality. Her hair was pinned up in curls tight against her head, or perhaps it was cut shorter. Her back was to the camera but she glanced over her shoulder, one hand propped on her waist and the other stretched out across the open lid of a grand piano. The picture was black and white, and a grey light behind her illuminated every curve laid bare by the long gown that hugged her figure and plunged low, leaving her back almost entirely exposed. He realized what he had recognized so quickly in the picture. Her expression, one eye quirked in a playful, knowing way. It stood out in his memory: the look she had given him when she'd caught him with the cookies, for one example. It was memorable for many reasons, not the least of which because it seemed so at odds with her normally playful, sweet demeanor. Now, looking at the poster, he could put his finger on it directly. Typically she was the playful sexy Piano Gal, but every once in a while the mature, over-sexualized Harriet peeked out.

Peter turned away from the images and ran his fingers through his hair. He regretted buying the posters. This was strange and wrong to be seeing this—he felt like he was peering into a portion of Charlotte's life she had been trying to keep secret. After all, she had yet to answer any of Lucy's questions; she always brushed them off and changed the subject.

But might that not be simply to cover up the scandal? Surely she didn't want that following her everywhere, and apparently scandal was linked with her name. If Lucy asked too many questions, perhaps the truth would come out and then . . .

But no, Peter argued with himself. He knew Charlie. Or he at least knew her a bit, and Susan certainly knew her. Susan of all people wouldn't invite a scandal home for Christmas. The rumors had to be false. Charlotte simply had residual habits of a character she had played in a film left over, expressions she had put on for the camera that had sunk into her habit. Surely she was as good and innocent and sweet as she seemed.

Of course, Susan had mentioned to him some of the trouble Charlie was sinking into in Paris. The whole reason Susan wanted to bring her home was because her partying was beginning to spiral out of control, and Susan was scared of the world Charlie had easily been invited into. Her letters were vague on the subject, but Peter could only imagine what she meant. Clubs, men, alcohol, and who knew what other darker things.

He realized his imagination was probably running away with him, but he couldn't stop himself, like a train that had gathered momentum and couldn't be turned away now. Susan had seemed to think it was all a result of the break up with the fiancé and the deaths of some members of Charlotte's family, but what if it was simply a continuation of the lifestyle Charlotte had begun in California? If she was a scandal there, why would she bother changing her ways in Paris? Perhaps only long enough to find a new roommate after her engagement ended . . .

"No, Peter, no. That's not it and you know it," he stomped his foot to emphasize what he spoke out loud in the silence of the room. He glanced at the posters one last time before rewrapping them and shoving them beneath his bed, though not before glancing at the directors' names.

Downstairs, the living room was cozy and happy. Everyone was laughing at some anecdote Charlie was telling about one of her brothers hanging all her cloth dolls from the rafters of the barn while she was at school. Peter slid onto the couch beside Lydia, who wound her fingers through his. Listening to Charlie, watching her interact with his family, he knew for certain the rumors were wrong. She wasn't a husband stealer. She certainly wasn't a kept woman. Still the thought nagged at him until finally, just before bed, he managed to catch a moment alone with Susan.

Out of curiosity and simply for a laugh at his own foolishness, Peter asked her quietly, "Su, you don't happen to know the name of – I know I shouldn't be asking it, but you don't happen to know the name of Charlotte's ex-fiance, do you?"

"You're right, you shouldn't ask because it's no business of yours, Peter," she scolded pointedly. "But if you must know, she called him Jack. That's all I know, though." Peter felt his shoulders sag with relief. Neither of the directors had been named Jack. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," he shrugged. "Just curious if there was a particular name I should avoid in conversation."

After the upset of the day, Peter didn't much feel like sitting up all night talking to Charlotte as he had the past couple of nights, but seeing the glow from downstairs and her figure hunched over a book by the hearth, he sighed and joined her. He might as well; he wouldn't be asleep for a few hours. Most of his habits gathered in Narnia were positive but a couple he wished he could rid himself of, such as the insomnia.

She grinned to see him and asked, "So, are we going back to Narnia tonight?" Such a simple question erased all the doubts and anxieties of the afternoon, and Peter was entirely ashamed of himself for having believed the rumors for even a second. This wasn't Charlotte Auburn anymore, and certainly not the Charlotte Auburn of rumor. This was Charlie, Su's best friend, an American art student in Paris who pretended she was a slave with talking animals as a child.

"Oh, you don't want to hear more stories of that old place," he laughed with a shake of his head.

"No, I do! I really do!" she insisted. "I dreamed of it last night."

"Did you?"

"I really did. I dreamed I was standing on a cliff overlooking the sea, wearing the most beautiful pale yellow dress, and Susan and Lucy were there, and we all had flowers in our hair. And that lion was there too, Aslan."

"What, did you leave me and Ed out?"

"I'm afraid I did," she laughed. "You didn't miss much, though. We just all stood there being happy, and I woke this morning with just the lightest feeling in my heart, as though everything in the world was going to work out right. It was a lovely feeling. Perhaps the best feeling I've ever had."

"Well then I suppose we should go back to Narnia . . ." and so he told her more stories, still not mentioning their initial arrival to Narnia. He told her the history, what Professor Kirke had told them about Narnia's creation, and she listened with such a rapt, innocent interest that when at last the clock struck two and they agreed they had better go to bed or they would never get up the next day, he felt genuinely saddened to be leaving Narnia. Telling her the stories was almost as good as being there.

"Oh, by the way," Charlotte added with one foot on the bottom stair. "I don't know what your secret errand was, but I feel like I should warn you that Lydia's convinced you're going to propose to her on Christmas, and that you went to find a ring. If that's not what it was, I'd hate to be in your shoes . . ." She seemed to be teasing him, like she knew that his errand had not been for Lydia, but there didn't seem to be any expectation at all in her face that it had been for her. She bounded up the stairs before he had a chance to think of a response.

Peter was suddenly too tired to put much thought into it, though. He would think about Charlotte's warning in the morning; for now, he just wanted to crawl into bed after a long day and sleep. After all, he knew Lydia expected him to propose soon; they had talked about marriage enough times by now that her expectation wasn't really that surprising. Perhaps he should propose to her on Christmas. Charlie made it sound like Lydia was excited by the idea, and it would save him the stress of having to think of something romantic enough to fit Lydia's notions of what the perfect marriage proposal would be. Charlotte had said he was too romantic for a boy, but clearly she hadn't spent enough time with Lydia to see what he was up against.

He changed and was just about to slip into bed when movement in the street outside his window caught his eye. Talking about Narnia gave him the slight start that perhaps it was Aslan, but no. Aslan didn't physically exist in England, only in his heart. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass to smile at the moonlit world of snow outside when a horrible realization struck his heart.

Quickly but quietly so as not to wake Ed, Peter pulled the posters out and read the names listed again. The director of My Lady Harriet was named Jonathan Daws.

She called him Jack, Susan had answered.