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The wheels of the carriage spun awkwardly along the cobbled streets of London. It felt a bit too fitting as Charlotte gazed out her carriage window at the rain. She thought about the carriage ride through Twicham, howrightthat had felt by comparison, even after all was said and done.
Her family had gone ahead of her to the church. She thought back, too, to the girl she had been but a few months prior. That girl would most certainly have run off to the Isles, the Continent, or anywhere that was not the end of a marriage aisle. That girl, she realized, was gone. For all the pain she had caused her family, this would be the one right to balance out all ill—she would consign herself to quiet misery until such a day came to start anew.
Picking off a head of lavender from her bouquet, she ground the petals between her fingers, hoping to feel something. All she felt was the ghost of Benjamin’s touch, his phantom breath on her neck, his voice in her ears saying,Don’t do this! Give us another chance at love.
That was all that remained of him—a ghost. One grand love affair from which she might feed herself until death. She hoped, wherever he was, that he was happy.
The carriage came to a grounding halt before the church. It was a way out of town, though not so far as to feel like the country. There were no guests outside, having gone indoors for the pouring rain. “A fitting start to the day,” she muttered to herself, waiting for a footman to come around and open the carriage door.
The door clicked open soon enough, and Charlotte set a hesitant slipper on the step. The man’s hand reached out for hers, and she took it, looking only up at the church. She was immediately soaked through with rain, the ringlets Josie had so dutifully styled falling flat around her face. Even then, it was not until she tried to walk to the church that something spun amiss. The man did not let go of her hand.
Glaring back through the rain, droplets catching in her lashes, she looked at the man who had refused to let her go. The face was one she knew, so surprising, so beautiful, that she was sure she had died and that there was only heaven beyond the church doors.
Benjamin stood before her, her hand tucked into his. He, too, was soaked through with rain, his teeth chattering. She realized that he had journeyed with her on the outside of the carriage.
“What are you... doing here?” she asked, breaking into sobs. The tears flowed with the rain as she lifted her free hand to his face. “Is this real?”
“It’s real,” he said, holding her gloved hand against her skin. “I’m here, Charlotte.”
“You’re...” She took a moment to look him over, not convinced of her sanity. “You’re soaked through to the bone.”
He laughed, and it rocked him, rocked the rain from his hair, too. “I would have presented myself dry, but…” He looked up to the heavens, but Charlotte could not tear her eyes from him. All anger she had felt toward him, all distrust, all resentment melted away, pooling at their feet with the rain. “Do you mind?”
“That you are wet?”
“That I have come, Charlotte?”
“No,” she wept. “No, I don’t mind at all.”
“I swore I would never ruin another one of your days.” He kissed her hand. “And I know I am breaking my promise, but I will force nothing upon you but a way out if you need it.” He looked to the carriage, then to the church.
“Your father—“
“He knows I am here, Char. He has known all along.” Benjamin looked over her head as the carriage driver ran around the church for cover. Still, she searched his face for his gaze, fearing he might disappear if she lost it. “We have... made amends, in a way. After what you said in Twicham about me taking up as his heir,” he paused, “I realized you were right. Ihadbeen blinded by my pride, so much that I had lost you.”
Taking both her hands in his own, he held them before his lips. Charlotte let him lavish them with kisses, feeling not scorned but relieved. Immensely relieved that he had chased her down once again.
“I will never be able to atone for all the ill I have done, but I will certainly try with his help,” he swore. The rain pelted them still, and he glistened all over. There had never been a more beautiful sight. “I will live differently.”
She believed it. She said as much and then, “I received your gift.”
“I know. Your sister told me. We have entertained... an interesting correspondence, to say the least. It was with her blessing that I allowed myself to come today.” He gave her hand a final stroke. “It’s time to stop living behind lies—for the both of us.” He took a step back, and she almost wailed for it. “I will give you this choice, asking only that you choose happiness, wherever it may lead you.”
Time turned on its head as Charlotte weighed her options. At a crossroads, she looked to the church where Gamston awaited her: a life of miserable leisure, of simplicity, of wealth. She looked to the carriage and saw a map unfurl before her: she could travel, wander the Continent or the Colonies on her own.
Finally, she looked at Benjamin. In him, she saw not one option butallof them. She could see herself as a writer, a wanderer, a lady of theton, a daughter... she could see herself as awife, too. She could see herself... happy.
It was the easiest choice she had ever made.
“I choose us,” she murmured, but he didn’t hear her. He took a step closer, and she said again, laughing, “I choose us!”
“You choose...what?” he shouted back. He batted at the rain in his stupor as if he could stop it altogether. “I cannot hear. What did you say?”
Charlotte rushed towards him, losing her slippers in the mud. She barreled into him, throwing her arms around her shoulders. “I choose... us,” she said into his ear.
Benjamin shook his head, and though she could not be sure in the rain, she thought to see him cry. “You mean it?”
She nodded, pressing her forehead to his, wanting to feel as much of him as she could, knowing she would never let him go again. “It is us, Benjamin. There was only ever us.”
