“Precisely.” She stood from the chair. “So why hold back? You know there was no love lost between my father and myself, I had told you as much. So why not confide your suspicions? Did you not trust me enough to handle the truth? Did you… did you expect to use me against him?” she finished in a smaller voice.
Seth did not answer. He stayed very still, his hands still steepled together.
At first, he had no such designs. That evening, when he brought her back to Axfordshire, he had done so with a pure heart—that is what he told himself. Yet, as he lay awake while she slept in the guest chamber, his mounting frustrations at hitting brick wall after brick wall did lead him to consider it.
“So it is true then. You intended to use me against him.”
“I never explicitly said that.”
“Then deny it,” she pressed desperately.
Once more, Seth fell enveloped in silence. The last thing he wanted was to deceive her, particularly now when the veils had been lifted from their pasts. They stood at a threshold of a new beginning, a new beginning he hoped to share with her, and one that should not be built on more lies and secrets. “Charity, it is just… it’s….”
“No, no, stop,” she cut him off, her resolve hardening, “I don’t care about any of that. If it would somehow ease the torment you suffer, I would have willingly played my part. But—but, there is something I must know.” She approached the desk again, her grip tightening until her knuckles blanched. “When you gaze upon me… do you seehim? Is it painful for you to look at me?”
Their eyes perfectly locked, and Seth’s filled with a raw honesty. Though Charity had never reminded him of her father, nor mirrored that man in his eyes, the pain he now felt was undeniable, and he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it.
Was it the anguish of allowing her to discover the truth he sought to protect her from?
Or perhaps the dread of uncovering a more sinister reason as to why he had taken her from her home that night?
“I understand now.”
“I haven’t spoken my part,” he muttered.
Her response was in her retreat; she broke away from their stand-off, backing into a chair, a misstep sending her briefly off balance, yet she remained upright.
“Cherry,” he called after her, rising from his seat.
“Please… don’t come after me,” she pleaded, her voice barely a thread of sound as she retraced her steps carefully to the door. “I need time to process everything. I… I think I will sleep in my own chamber tonight.”
The pang in Seth’s chest surged with a ferocity that left him reeling. He found himself bent over the desk, feeling a visceral sensation, as if his very soul was being cleaved in two. The thought of her withdrawing to her solitude… distancing herself from him at a time like this… was intolerable. He couldn’t bear being like this with her, he didn’t want the past to infect the present. Yet, no sooner had she retreated than the door whispered shut behind her, the sound echoing the severance of their hearts.
No. She needs time to think. I… I have to give her what she asked for. We will overcome this. But she needs time.
Seth forced himself back into the seat, even as he wished to chase after her.
Charity’s hands trembled as she attempted to pen her letter. She feared her lines had probably run together, the words jumbling over one another, for she could not see what she was writing. She had endeavored to maintain straight lines with the aid of a ruler, guiding her hand along the wood, inching it downward after each sentence, but she had no way of knowing if it had worked.
Oh, I’m so sorry, Seth.
There was a light sniffle, before she finally broke down into sobs, unable to hold back the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks. With a muffled wail, she pushed away the letter, abandoning it on the writing bureau in her chamber.
Within that note, she had poured out her heart to Seth, confessing her love yet attempting to explain the heart-wrenching decision to part ways. She couldn't bear the thought of him enduring a lifetime of sorrow, of greeting each dawn with the shadow of his past losses, all of which were incorrigibly tied to herself because of the sins of her father.
She couldn’t bear for him to see her in that light after all they had shared.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks with desperate swipes of the hand, she rose, feeling out for the pelisse that was resting across her chair’s backrest.
The moment she had stepped away from the sanctity of Seth's study, Charity knew her fate was sealed. She could no longer marry him. Luke’s words had rang out to her, and only rang truer when she felt the heavy silences punctuating Seth’s replies. For his well-being, for the glimmer of joy that might yet light his days, she knew her presence could only cast shadows. She had to give him the chance to find his happiness in another.
That despairing thought manifested as a dull ache in her chest. Pulling on the pelisse and her bonnet, she reached for the modest portmanteau she had packed up with her toilette box and a few of the dresses that Seth had kindly purchased for her, then she moved to the door and stepped out into the corridor.
It was likely night out by now, but Charity did not need a candle to navigate the hallways. Her familiarity with the manor allowed her to move like a wraith, her touch upon the wall a guide through the darkness, her steps on the stairs measured to avoid any betraying sounds. She did not want to disturb Seth, nor the staff, as she left, for she feared even the lightest of pushbacks might have her running back into Seth’s arms all over.
Despite her wish for Seth to eventually find some semblance of peace when he ultimately discovered her absence, a part of her selfishly hoped he would not come to regret the time they spent together, but rather cherish those moments fondly.
She could find her solace in the thought of being a beloved memory, nestled in a cozy corner of his mind, and not as a burden, but a valued keepsake.
