by Bree Wolf
Relief filled Charlotte’s heart as she finished her story, and the weight that had threatened to crush her for so long a time vanished as though it had never existed.
Only it had come at a price.
Meeting her husband’s gaze, Charlotte knew without a doubt that she had lost him. He could not forgive her for what she had done, and she would never ask him to. The life she had found had never been hers to keep. Deep down, she had known this all along.
And yet, the pain in her heart knew no right or wrong, it simply was.
Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and took a step toward him.
Instantly, he tensed as though her presence physically hurt him.
Standing back, she met his eyes. “Now, you know. Now, you can understand why I must do this. It is only right.” She nodded at him encouragingly. “I stole a man’s life, and as much as I wish I could, I cannot give it back. Not even in exchange for my own. But if you let me do this, then I can give your sister back her life and save her child from growing up in the care of a monster who only looks like a man. A father who would undoubtedly turn him into an image of himself.”
Gritting his teeth, her husband glared at her, his eyes dark as though a storm was brewing. He shifted from one foot to the other and back again as he inhaled deeply, indecision marking his face.
“Please,” Charlotte pleaded. “You yourself admitted that he does not deserve to live, and now, you know why I don’t either. So, please, let me do this. Let me free her from the man who turned me into a monster before he does the same to her.”
Long moments passed as they looked at each other, their eyes open to a new reality, a reality neither one of them wanted, a reality that had shattered everything they had hoped for. And yet, Charlotte could not regret the turn her life had taken. Had she not met and married the man before her, then Victoria would have been lost. Now, she had a chance, but only if Charlotte could gain her husband’s permission to help her.
As his jaw clenched and unclenched, he stared at her as though trying to see the person she had just revealed herself to be. Then he swallowed and slowly shook his head.
Charlotte’s heart throbbed painfully in her chest. “Please,” she whispered as tears came to her eyes as much for Victoria’s sake as her own. She needed this; she had to make him understand. “Let me do this. One good deed. Just one. Please.”
His eyes hard, he opened his mouth when a knock sounded on the door.
They both flinched, having forgotten the world around them.
“Sebastian?” Victoria’s voice drifted through the door. “Is everything alright? It is time to leave. Are you coming? What should I tell Mother?”
Hanging his head, Sebastian closed his eyes. “The funeral,” he mumbled, then raised his gaze to look at Charlotte. “Tell Mother we’ll be there,” he said to Victoria, his eyes still fixed on his wife.
“Alright.” After a moment, they heard Victoria’s footsteps hasten down the hall.
His eyes burned into hers as he stepped forward. “You will not say a word of this to anyone,” he hissed, his face contorted into a snarl. “You will play your part as I will play mine. Do you understand?”
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte nodded.
“Good.” Again, he took a step toward her, his head bending down, closing the distance between them as his eyes held hers. “And don’t even think about going after Northfield. Not here. Not now. Have I made myself clear?”
Again, Charlotte nodded, despair constricting her throat as she watched him turn on his heel and stride from the room without another word. Of course, she couldn’t blame him, and yet, she couldn’t help but wish for a different outcome.
The funeral passed in a daze. With their eyes clouded and their faces tense, they portrayed without difficulty the image of a grieving family. Nevertheless, Charlotte could feel the anger that radiated off her husband as he stood beside her before his father’s grave. Victoria, too, knew that something was wrong, her gaze occasionally drifting to her brother and sister-in-law, a burning question in her eyes. The only one who seemed to take any kind of pleasure from these dreary proceedings was Northfield.
Although he didn’t smile, there was something in his eyes as they came to rest on Charlotte that spoke of amusement. She squirmed under his gaze as it drew forth the memories she so loathed, memories that seemed to please him greatly. His eyes shifted from her to her husband before they narrowed, easily detecting the change in their relationship, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
After the funeral, they returned to the manor, and Sebastian informed his family that they would be returning to Town in the morning. Frowning at her son for a moment, his mother merely nodded and then left to make arrangements, escorting Victoria upstairs as she had begun to feel lightheaded.
Not even looking at his wife, Sebastian then strode from the room, calling for Coleridge.
With a sinking heart, Charlotte watched him leave before she remembered that she wasn’t alone after all. Turning around, she met Northfield’s gaze.
“He seems greatly displeased with you, my dear,” he whispered, a smirk on his face as he strode closer. “Not protective in the least.”
Although his words were merely an observation, the threat in his voice resonated in her ears, and Charlotte took an involuntary step backwards. “Don’t call me my dear,” she hissed, trying her best to sound confident as her body began to tremble with the memories his proximity elicited, “and stay away from me.”
A smile came to his face, obviously pleased with her reaction. “What will you do if I don’t?” he asked, his breath brushing over her skin as he came to stand before her. “Will you scream for help? I doubt it.”
As her teeth began to chatter, Charlotte ground them together, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “You cannot intimidate me anymore,” she forced out, but her voice sounded strangled. “I’ve already lost everything I held dear. There’s nothing you can do to me anymore.”
At her words, his eyes lit up and a smile came to his face. “Shall we test that theory?” he challenged, his hands suddenly reaching for her.
As his arms came around her, his body pressing her against the wall, Charlotte’s soul screamed out and her stomach turned. A part of her could not believe what was happening, but still she fought him with everything she had as his mouth closed in on hers.
And then he was flung backwards.
Panting, Charlotte stared at her husband, a murderous gleam in his eyes, as he advanced on Northfield scrambling to his feet.
“My apologies,” Northfield mumbled, brushing down his coat, his face quickly reclaiming a look of bored indifference. “I was merely−"
“I will kill you!” her husband growled, circling his opponent like a predator on the prowl.
Northfield swallowed but held his ground.
Knowing she could not allow her husband to ruin his life for her of all people, Charlotte acted on instinct. In the blink of an eye, she stood beside him, laying a careful hand on his arm. “Please don’t,” she whispered, praying that he would listen.
At her touch, he flinched, his eyes darting to her face.
“It’s not your place.” Shaking her head, she implored him. “Think of Victoria and your mother. Don’t do this. They need you.”
He drew in a painful breath, and the dark in his eyes remained. However, some of the tension left his body as he nodded to her almost imperceptibly. Then he turned his attention back on Northfield. “I want you out of this house,” he growled, approaching with measured steps. “Now.” His eyes narrowed, and this time it was Northfield who took an involuntary step back. “And if you ever dare lay a hand on her again,” her husband snarled, “I shall hunt you down and kill you where you stand.”
Holding her husband’s murderous gaze, Northfield’s eyes narrowed and hardened. At that moment, Charlotte knew that her husband had just then gained an enemy. An enemy who didn’t fight fair. An enemy who couldn’t be intimidated in
to submission. An enemy who would lie in wait, patiently anticipating the moment he could exact his revenge.
As he had with Kenneth.
Upon receiving his letter after his death, Charlotte had finally understood the whole truth … as useless as it had been in that moment.
Without saying a word, Northfield spun on his heel and left, and her husband turned to face her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice hard as though he did not care.
Charlotte nodded. “Thank you.”
He cringed at her words and took a step back. “There’s no need. After all, it was my fault. I should never have left you alone with him.” Then he turned and strode from the room, and all Charlotte could think of were his arms holding her tight, keeping her safe.
Chapter Forty-Three – A Broken Soul
The moment the carriage drew to a halt in front of their townhouse, Sebastian got out and left, walking down the street without a look back. He could only imagine the confused expressions on their faces as they stared after him until he heard someone call out his name. Had it been Victoria or his mother? Or his wife even?
Sebastian shook his head. He didn’t care. He needed to get away. He needed to think, and he couldn’t find a clear thought in his head when they looked at him, their eyes full of concern and confusion.
And so, he walked. He didn’t see where he went, all he knew was that he needed to get away and so his legs kept moving until the sky began to grow dim and the cold air began to chill his bones.
Hidden in the shadows that spread over the darkening world, Sebastian found himself standing across the street from a mid-sized townhouse, its facade familiar to his eyes.
At first, he frowned, unsure why his legs had carried him there when a carriage drew up to the curb. A carriage that carried the coat-of-arms of a gentleman who didn’t deserve the word.
“Northfield,” he growled under his breath, forcing his limbs to remain still when all he wanted was to rush across the street and throttle the man where he stood.
But he didn’t.
He watched as Northfield climbed the stairs to the front door and was immediately permitted inside. Who lived here? Sebastian wondered, raking his mind, trying to remember as the chaos in his head seemed to increase.
And then it clicked. He remembered the last time he had been here.
Visiting his sister for the first time after her wedding, he had returned to his carriage, only to spot his new brother-in-law’s carriage drive around the corner and down the street. On a whim, he had instructed his coachman to follow, and this is where they had come.
Later, he had found out that the woman who lived here was Northfield’s mistress, and his heart had broken over his sister’s lot all over again.
Desperate to leave behind the pain he always saw in her eyes, Sebastian had gone to visit his friend at Farnworth Manor.
Where he had met Lotte.
Charlotte.
Standing out in the street, Sebastian looked up at the lit windows and couldn’t help but wonder about the nature of people. How could Northfield be so cold and unfeeling? Did it truly not touch him to see someone else in pain?
And then there was Charlotte.
Yes, she had committed an unspeakable crime, and yet … and yet, deep down, a part of him could understand how it had happened. But did that mean he ought to forgive her?
Closing his eyes, Sebastian shook his head. Then he turned around, hailed a hackney coach and instructed the coachman to take him to his sister’s townhouse. After all, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her husband would not be there.
After mulling everything over in his mind, he found he needed to speak to someone, and his sister already knew … at least most of it.
“Sebastian!” she exclaimed upon finding him in her drawing room. “Wherever did you go? We were terribly worried.” Drawing him into her arms, she held him close for a long moment, and Sebastian drew in a deep breath, welcoming the warmth of her embrace.
“I simply walked around,” he said, meeting her enquiring eyes. “I had to think.”
“All day?” she asked as she took his hand and pulled him down onto the settee next to her. “Tell me what happened.”
In a few words, Sebastian explained what had transpired between him and his wife after he had found her with a pistol in her hand ready to kill Northfield. As he spoke, Victoria’s eyes grew wide, and tears appeared in their corners as he spoke of Leopold’s death.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, shaking his head. “At first, I was so … angry,” gritting his teeth, he inhaled deeply through his nose, seeking to calm himself. “I still am. Every now and then, I feel enraged. It grabs me, and all I can think about is Leopold’s lifeless body. But then …”
“But then you remember that you love her,” Victoria finished for him, and he looked up at her and nodded.
“I know I cannot ignore what she did,” he continued, trying to find the words to explain the chaos in his head, “but at the same time, my heart almost desperately wants to forgive her. But I can’t. Nothing would be more wrong.” He shook his head. “Is it even my place to forgive her? Yes, Leopold was my friend, but there are others who were closer to him. Don’t they deserve to know? Is it not my duty to tell them where she is? After all, they believe her dead.” Turning pleading eyes to his sister, Sebastian begged, “Tell me what to do.”
Victoria took a deep breath and closed her hand over his. “I cannot do that. It is not my place to tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I think.”
He nodded his head vigorously.
“Despite what you’ve told me,” his sister began, “I believe that Charlotte is a good person, who would never intentionally harm another … not without good cause.”
“But she did!” Sebastian insisted. “She killed Leopold. She tried to kill Frederick. They never harmed her. What good cause could she possibly have had?”
“None that you can understand,” Victoria replied, her eyes overhung with sadness. “Do you have any idea what it does to your soul to be broken into a million pieces?” She swallowed, and a slight tremble shook her hand still resting on top of his. “Having to submit your life … your body to a man who you feel repulsed by, who does things to you that can never be forgotten or ignored.”
Holding his breath, Sebastian stared at her, wishing she would not continue.
“Now and then, I hardly recognise myself in the woman I’ve become,” she whispered, then placed her other hand on the slight curve of her belly. “In the beginning, I hated this child.” Lifting her eyes to his, she nodded. “I was disgusted by the thought of it growing inside of me. Of course, I knew it to be wrong, and I felt ashamed. What mother would hate her own child?” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Although I knew the child to be innocent, a precious little life like all the others, I couldn’t love it because to me it was a mere representation of what he did to me.”
Sitting beside his sister and seeing her misery pour down her cheeks, Sebastian had never felt more helpless. Torn between the desire to end her husband’s life and ease Victoria’s pain, he felt unable to do either. As his emotions ate him up from the inside, he simply sat there and stared at her.
“I can see how you feel,” she said, nodding her head. “The pain, the anger, the confusion. It is all there, written on your face, and yet, …” licking her lips, she met his eyes, an apologetic look resting in them, “for me and Charlotte, it is a million times worse.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut.
“What do you do when you’re trapped in a life that crushes you a little more every day?” she asked, brushing the tears from her face. “Eventually, you won’t be able to withstand the pressure and give in. Believe me, it takes a lot of strength merely to rise in the morning.” Searching his eyes, a sad smile came to her face. “You wanted me to tell you the truth, remember? Again, and again, you have asked me to confide in you, but you never truly wanted to know, did you? Do you regret
that I told you?”
Sebastian closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Yes. No,” he whispered. “Although it pains me … so much,” tears stung his eyes, “I can’t not know. You’re my sister, and I love you. If you cannot confide in me, then in whom?” He shook his head, drawing her hand into his, holding it tight.
“And what about Charlotte?”
“I don’t know.” Shrugging, he hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
Victoria nodded.
“Have you ever,” he began, eyeing her closely, hoping he wouldn’t offend her, “wanted to kill your husband?”
Holding his gaze, she nodded.
Sebastian’s eyes widened as he saw the gap between Charlotte and his sister grow smaller.
“But I won’t,” she said when he remained quiet.
“Why not?”
“Because I have you and Mother,” she said, and a soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, “and Charlotte, too. Especially Charlotte.” She nodded. “You, all of you, helped me to find my way back to myself. I’ve even come to love my child,” again, she placed a gentle hand on her belly, “not as a mother should, but a little. And I’m hoping that one day, I will truly see him for himself alone and not for who his father is.” She swallowed, and her eyes grew serious once more as she looked at him, her eyes imploring. “Only Charlotte didn’t have that. She was abandoned, alone. There was no one to fight for her, to guide her through all those contradicting emotions that threatened to tear her apart.” She nodded, and a touch of awe came to her eyes. “To me, it is truly amazing that after everything that happened to her and everything she lost, she was still able to return to her old self. I don’t know if I could have.” Holding his gaze, she shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Chapter Forty-Four – To See a Ghost
Early the next morning after a wakeful night, Sebastian called for the carriage and had the coachman take him to Frederick’s townhouse, grateful that during the Season people generally stayed in Town and were, thus, far easier to call upon.