Lies and Letters

by Ashtyn Newbold

  Our phaeton followed closely behind the carriage until it began to slow down. We came to a halt at nearly the same moment. I stood in one swift motion, knowing that if I didn’t move now then I would never do it—I would never stand or speak or see James’s face.

  “Did he travel alone?” I asked in a quiet, shaking voice.

  Lord Trowbridge nodded but I hardly noticed. He stood and let me down from the phaeton. My hands shook. Clara squeezed my shoulder before I touched the ground.

  I took two steps forward, squinting under the dim evening light. The outline of James’s carriage loomed just ahead of me, and I moved toward it, relying for the first time on something uncertain. It scared me.

  Rows of prickly green plants grew off the path, and the setting sun made them glow purple. My feet crunched over the road, but it was just a muffled sound, blocked out by the sound of my own heart. I was so close now. I stepped around the front of the carriage at the precise moment James jumped down from the coach box. My heart leapt.

  His eyes glinted blue in the waning light. “Charlotte,” he breathed.

  I was too shocked to move a muscle, too afraid that this wasn’t real—that he wasn’t really here standing in front of me. I hadn’t known it was possible to miss something so much, a face that had comforted me countless times, a set of kind eyes, and ever-untidy black hair …

  “James. I am so sorry.” My voice was hoarse with emotion. “I was a fool. I didn’t mean to break your heart. I accused myself of being selfish, when I didn’t know that truly, I had broken my own heart as well. I wrote my letter to you before I received yours.” I took a deep breath. “And I meant every word.” I stepped toward him and spoke the words I never imagined I’d say. A great crevice in my heart filled and I smiled, shaky and unsteady, but more certain than I had ever been in my life. “I love you. I love you, and I am so, so sorry.”

  His face broke into a smile—a smile that assured me, all at once, that I had made the right decision. James filled the space between us in five steps. His arms wrapped around me, so perfect and strong and safe, and he kissed me. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, and my lips again, holding my face in his hands as tears of overwhelming joy fell down both our faces. He whispered my name, over and over, and countless other beautiful things as we stood there, free and happy and oh, so loved. Everything was suddenly right, every piece I had been missing for so long fell back together perfectly.

  I didn’t know if I belonged in the North, but I knew without a hint of uncertainty that I belonged with James, wherever he may be. This was home. This was my new dream, and I would cling to it always.

  At last he pulled back just enough to look in my eyes. “What changed your mind?”

  “I didn’t know if you would ever forgive me, but I realized that to be alone would be better than to live such a lie. I took a chance writing that letter, and I never thought you would do the same. I thought you hated me.” I laughed, a breathless sound.

  He leaned his head down with a smile. “I could never hate you, Charlotte,” he half-whispered. Then his hands slid down my arms and grasped mine. With a gentleness that made my heart melt all over again, he lifted my hand—the one Mr. Webb and Mama had so despised—and pressed his lips to my fingers. His smiling eyes met mine again and fresh tears streaked down my cheeks. “And after all,” he said, “I thought it was you who hated me.”

  A teasing grin lit his face and I smiled. “Of course, I do.”

  He laughed. “That is the worst lie I have ever heard.”

  Epilogue

  Our song was a flowing melody, quick and steady, intertwined with speeding trills and imperfect measures. My eyes streaked over the music in front of me and down to the strong hand that played deftly beside my own. A laugh of thrill and energy bubbled in my chest.

  “Turn the page!” I exclaimed.

  From the corner of my eye I saw James’s other hand flick to the music and move the sheet we had finished out of my way. “Play faster,” he said. I heard the smile in his voice.

  My fingers bounded over the keys and every muscle in my body tightened in concentration. My heart soared, and James chuckled beside me as he struggled to keep up. The song was almost over, and we finished in a dramatic slowing of the notes. The resonating sound echoed off the walls until it had faded into silence. And then the room burst into applause.

  I looked up at James, sitting beside me on the bench. He smiled, and the sight fluttered my heart as it always did. “Well done,” he whispered. Then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I laughed and ducked my head as my face bloomed with heat.

  “We have an audience,” I berated.

  He raised an eyebrow and looked behind him. “Well, then …”

  Before I could object he pulled me against him and kissed me, deeply and slowly, making me melt and momentarily forget our spectators. “See what they think of that,” he whispered against my lips. I pulled away, laughing and blushing even worse than Clara. I swatted his arm, shaking my head at the wink he threw my way.

  The pianoforte had been a wedding gift from the Abbots. It was the very instrument that had been in their sitting room for all those hours I had played it. Mrs. Abbot had insisted that we have it, even as I had tried to refuse such a generous gift. But it had been moved to our little home the day of our wedding six months before. And it hadn’t moved since. The pianoforte fit so perfectly here with its chipped keys and fading colors. Our house was small, but it was more comfortable and safe and much more of a home than anything I had ever had before. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  I turned my head over my shoulder, smiling without reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Abbot sat on the end of our uneven sofa, and Lucy and Rachel crowded on the other end. Clara and Thomas sat on the chairs closest to the pianoforte. Anna smiled up at me as she poured their tea.

  Clara wasn’t clapping—her hands were occupied with her squirming baby, Henry. She planted a quick kiss on his sagging, round cheek and his tiny fingers wrapped around a strand of her hair. He pulled and Clara gasped, laughing as she held him at a distance.

  “Naughty boy, Henry!” Sophia rushed to Clara’s side and tapped the baby’s nose with one finger. He giggled. “You will hurt Mama!”

  I smiled and rotated on the bench so I faced them. I leaned against James. Sophia adored her little brother. I watched as she smoothed the fuzzy tuft of hair on top of his head. He reached for her hair but she skipped away, shaking a finger at him. James’s laugh rumbled against me.

  Sophia hurried over to where we sat at the pianoforte. “Auntie Charlotte and Uncle Jamesy! Your song was very pretty.” She stepped closer and plinked out a few notes on the keys beside me. “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” she announced for the tenth time that day at least. “I will be seven.”

  “How very old! You are growing up far too fast,” I said. James and I had already crafted a crown from the twigs in our garden that I planned to have her wear on the special day. I had picked several different colored ribbons to intertwine with the crown, and James had helped me assemble them. It had turned out beautifully. I hoped she would like it. The longer I had been here, the more I realized that the simple gifts that came without cost were always the sweetest.

  Clara piped in from across the room. “You will love what Auntie Charlotte and Uncle Jamesy have for your birthday gift.”

  Sophia squealed and clasped her hands together in excitement. “Is it cousins? I would like to have cousins. Very much.”

  The room erupted in laughter and Sophia eyed my belly carefully. James smiled. “No cousins yet, my dear, but perhaps for your eighth birthday we might have such a gift for you.”

  She jumped into a twirl, clapping. James laughed and tugged me closer, planting a kiss on top of my head. Sophia climbed into her father’s lap and leaned over to tickle Henry’s face with the lace cuff of her sleeve. My breath released as a sigh.

  Everything in this room was beautiful, a dream made possible by hope and friendship and love. There was
nothing more I wanted. Even with winter thick in the air once again, I knew there would be much joy to be found—much warmth despite the cold and the dreary sky. Spring would always come again to Craster, and love would always last.

  James’s hand slid around mine and I held onto it tight.

  Discussion Questions

  When considering the relationship between Charlotte and Clara, what did the two sisters learn from each other? How did they change throughout the story? What similarities do you see in your own relationships with your sisters?

  How does Charlotte’s view of the environment of Craster in the beginning of the story change by the end? How does this apply to her own personal change and perspective?

  Charlotte uses the pianoforte as a sanctuary and a distraction from the things that trouble her. What is your sanctuary in hard times? When Charlotte loses the ability to access that relief, she is devastated. How would losing your own sanctuary affect you? How can you relate to Charlotte?

  Compare and contrast Charlotte’s relationship with her mother and Mrs. Abbot. In what way does Mrs. Abbot uplift Charlotte? What attributes do you find in common between these two women as mothers? What differences do you find in the treatment of Lucy and Rachel by Mrs. Abbot and Charlotte and Clara by their own mother?

  When James is first introduced, he tries to retrieve Charlotte’s money from a thief. What does this initial act show us about his character? How do we see these attributes shown in the rest of the story? What do we learn through James about forgiveness, kindness, and love?

  Why do you think the author chose to have Charlotte return home to her mother? What did Charlotte need to realize through that event? Although James could have chased Charlotte home for a storybook ending, why did Charlotte need to make that decision to return to Craster on her own?

  Both James and Charlotte make sacrifices for one another in the story. How does this strengthen their relationship? What role does sacrifice play in love? Why is it necessary, and how does it build Charlotte’s character?

  The love story between Clara and Lord Trowbridge is built off-stage. How would you envision their love story? How might their personalities have complemented each other? What unwritten events might have led to them falling in love? Discuss and imagine your own scene ideas of what might have happened.

  Considering Charlotte’s upbringing and the pressures of her society, do you find any justification for her views and actions? How do her selfish roots ultimately transform to a change of heart?

  Why do you think James kept his love letter after so long? What did it mean to him? Have you ever found it difficult to let go of something?

  About the Author

  Ashtyn Newbold was introduced to the Regency period early on, and the writing soon followed. Fascinated by the society, scenery, and chivalry, she wrote her first novel, Mischief and Manors, receiving a publishing offer before high school graduation. Ashtyn is currently attending college with plans to obtain a degree that will help her improve in writing and creativity. In her spare time she enjoys baking, singing, spoiling her dog, spending time with friends and family, and dreaming of the day she’ll travel to England.

  Acknowledgments

  I was the first person to love this story, and I was worried I would be the only one. Special thanks to my mom for being the second, Anna for being the third, and Aunt Megan for being the fourth. Your words of encouragement and feedback were exactly what I needed.

  Thank you to my creative writing class for reading this book in its beginning pages and forcing me to write through our Nanowrimo competition. Thank you to my family, for showing me the meaning of unconditional love long before I wrote these characters. Thank you for letting me learn from my mistakes like Charlotte, letting me dream like Clara, and for showing me kindness like James.

  Much appreciation to everyone at Cedar Fort, especially to my editors Hali Bird and Jessica Romrell for your wonderful insight, uplifting words, and hard work; and Priscilla Chaves for the gorgeous cover design. It’s perfect!

  I also must acknowledge England for being so beautiful, the Regency period for being so fun, and William Shakespeare for providing such wise and powerful quotes.

  And finally, I express my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for giving me stories to tell and blessing me with an ability and love for writing them. May there be many more to come.