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The evening continued like this: drink after drink, story after story, so much so that occasionally, Charlotte had to remind herself of the wretched state of things, the horrible murder of Brooks, the fact that she and Jeffrey were on a mission.
When the night drew to a close, Louisa approached to ask if Charlotte planned to stay at her estate for the night. This was customary, Charlotte explained to Jeffrey.
“We like to wake up and gossip in the garden in the morning sun,” she told him with a little laugh.
“Sounds altogether idyllic,” he told her.
“It really is.”
They gazed at one another for a long, sombre moment. Charlotte’s lips ached with desire. How she yearned for him to drop his own lips upon hers, to wrap his arms around her small frame and hold her tightly against him. In the wake of everything else—faced with the tremendous horrors of what humanity could do—all she yearned for was to be properly kissed by a man she fancied.
But no. It wasn’t to be. Perhaps it was far too much to demand such a thing from the universe.
That moment, Louisa gripped her skirts and said, “I must find Margorie. Do you have any idea where she might have run off to?”
Charlotte admitted she’d lost track of her. If she’d been completely honest, she would have said she’d forgotten Margorie had been in their midst at all. Louisa rushed off towards the garden, calling out her older sister’s name.
Charlotte and Jeffrey now stood alone beneath the stars and the low-hanging moon, there between the gardens and the stables. In the distance, they heard the stablehands as they gathered up the horses, latched them to the carriages. They were sounds of finality; proof that the night had worn thin.
“Margorie was married, wasn’t she?” Jeffrey asked.
“Yes. She was.”
“Did you attend the wedding?”
“Margorie is something of a sister to me as well,” Charlotte said. “It was a beautiful day. Truly it was. I hadn’t a single thought in my mind that her husband would turn so wretched.”
“It’s difficult to perceive the horrors that people might create,” Jeffrey said.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing as of late.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart ached. How she yearned to ask him what had truly happened with his brother. Why was there such darkness in his heart? And why had he disappeared for so many, many years?
When they heard Louisa and Margorie once more, they seemed amid yet another sisterly fight.
“Where on earth were you? Did you imagine that I could read your mind? Find you whenever it was we planned to—”
“Darling, it’s not such a big collection of gardens, and the night is still rather young.”
“Margorie, you’re twenty-eight years old. You’re not meant to think any night is young any longer,” Louisa said.
“You’re wretched, Louisa. You know this?” Margorie said.
Charlotte and Jeffrey made eye contact once more. Charlotte giggled inwardly, not loud enough for anyone but Jeffrey to hear. Just before Margorie and Louisa returned to their side, Jeffrey gripped her hand and lifted it towards his lips.
There, he dotted a perfect kiss. Goosebumps rushed over Charlotte’s arms and legs and lower back. At that moment, time seemed to hold still. She so yearned for that moment to go on forever.
The moment Louisa and Margorie grew close enough to sense their connection, Jeffrey allowed Charlotte’s hand to drop. Another lump filled her throat. Jeffrey—ever able, it seemed, to perform—turned a bright smile towards Louisa and Margorie.
“How terrible the night must come to a close,” he said.
“Truly,” Margorie said. Her voice shivered with sadness.
What on earth had Margorie been up to in the garden? Had she been with Harry? Charlotte smiled inwardly and cast her eyes back towards Margorie, towards Louisa. Everyone seemed to bubble with their own, separate secrets.
Their separate carriages sliced out of the entryway of the large stable. Charlotte gripped her skirts and hustled forth to report to her driver that she would return to Louisa’s estate, rather than return home. This was customary. He bowed his head and swept the reins across the horses. The carriage rumbled forward into the night, providing space for Louisa and Margorie’s carriage.
Jeffrey assisted Charlotte into the carriage, an event that allowed him another spare moment to squeeze her hand, gaze into her eyes. When she was safely in, she watched as both Zachary and Harry rushed from the dark shadows of the garden to assist both Louisa and Margorie into the carriage, as well. Harry clipped the carriage door closed behind them.
The women held the silence until the carriage pulled out onto the open road. The moment the lights of Peter’s estate disappeared, Louisa tossed her head back and let out the most delightful, delicious scream. All of them fell into what seemed like endless giggles.
