“No.” I was still in a daze, hardly believing what had just happened. A stroke of good fortune was as rare as a living flower in this dreary town.
“Charlotte, please! Don’t be so rash. Think of James!”
That made me stop, and it made my heart quake a little. But I set my jaw and made my decision. How could four short months be enough to reverse the beliefs I had upheld for years? I shook my head clear and tucked my heart away where I couldn’t find it. I pulled my arm away from Clara’s grasp.
“Please help me pack my trunk.”
She sobbed again. “No, Charlotte! Don’t do this.”
I looked away, standing up and walking to the staircase, numb and determined. This was what I wanted. My feet stomped on the wood, creating a rhythm for the chant in my head.This was what I wanted. Wasn’t it?
I could still hear Clara on the main floor—the soft whimpers and sniffling. I stood in my doorway for a moment, wondering why she cared so much. The thought of leaving had been so impossible, and the news that I could leave had been so sudden that I hadn’t stopped to consider how it would affect everyone here, including myself. Clara could still be happy. She was marrying the man she loved, she would live in a beautiful home, and never work another day of her life. She would have Thomas, Sophia, Mrs. Abbot, Rachel, and Lucy. And I would have Mama, perhaps this Mr. Webb, and a beautiful home of my own.
As I considered this, I was struck with the realization of all the things I wouldn’t have. Clara, the Abbots, James.James.My heart pinched at the thought.
Trying to distract myself, I hurried to my trunk and began packing my things.
I froze.
My right hand was pale against the crimson gown I packed away.
Mama didn’t know about the injury. I had chosen not to tell her, but I had nearly forgotten about it myself. Everyone here didn’t seem to notice it. But what would Mama think? I tried to reassure myself, packing with renewed vigor. All would be well.She had always cared about me. Nothing could change that. And even if she did despise it, I could conceal it in my glove and find a suitable match, and then all would be well. I tried my hardest to smile as I worked, but every time James crept into my thoughts, I found my smile wiped away.
Would I ever come back to this town after I left? How could I if I knew James would be here? I cursed fate for making him so poor, yet so easy to love. My chest constricted with the ache of knowing I had already seen him for the last time. He couldn’t know that I was leaving. I would leave without bidding him a proper farewell. It would be easier that way for both of us.
When my trunk was full, I placed my thickest gloves on top of it. The sky outside was dark, and my eyelids were growing heavy. The emotions I felt now would pass. I would forget everything about the past four months and remember the way life was before I met James Wortham. And if I was capable of forgetting him, then surely he could forget me. His heart would heal and so would mine. Tomorrow I would leave Craster at last.
Clara was gone most of the following day. She had hardly spoken to me that morning. I waited by the front door with my trunk, trying not to think or feel, watching out the window as fat snowflakes spiraled in slow motion from the sky. As always, I counted them as they fell.
Miss Bentford wouldn’t be accompanying me back to Hampshire. She seemed to have grown attached to this town just like Clara. Just like me. Clara would live at Clearfield House until her wedding, and Miss Bentford would soon replace Clara’s position as governess for Sophia. She had seemed happy with the arrangement, overjoyed even. It confused me, consideringthe comfortable life she had led at Bentford Manor before. Didn’t she miss the grand house? The ease? I certainly did.
I was afraid to step outside, knowing the possibility of seeing the Abbots, or James, was very real. While I hoped the carriage would arrive soon, I also wanted to see Clara before I left. She usually returned home at this time, but there seemed to be a delay.
I grew impatient, trapped within the stone walls of the cottage. I shivered, and tightened my cloak around my shoulders. Where was Clara? Although she didn’t approve of my decision to leave, I needed her here, if only for the company. I didn’t know how much longer I could bear to be alone with my variable and indecisive thoughts. Taking a deep, quaking breath, I pushed the door open and stepped outside, dragging my trunk behind me. I breathed the fresh, chilling air, and walked down the steps to where I could see the sky.
Light snowflakes landed in my hair, in the strands that hung in drab chunks on my shoulders. I stared at the sky. I never thought I’d miss the color. I wondered if I would ever see the same shade again. The thought sent a pang of sadness through my heart.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, breathing the cold air that smelled faintly of fish and sea water, but when I closed my eyes I was hoping, against my will, that I would never forget that smell.
I turned, prepared to retreat back to the doorway, but something caught my eye and set my heart racing.
There, passing the nearest snow blanketed tree—walking straight toward me, was James.
In an instant I turned away and turned back again, caught between being weak and being strong, staying or hiding. What was he doing here? I had strengthened my barriers, reminded myself of my goals and dreams, and how close I was to finallyachieving them. But all that resolve had already begun to fall apart at the sight of him. James was moving fast, and soon he would be here beside me, too close and too safe, and I would fall apart.
I begged myself to relax. My legs were already shaking, and my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My rules were disassembled in my head. But they were no use to me now, so I just crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to reach me.
James was only a few paces away now. He stopped, an abrupt change, and I tried not to look too closely at his eyes—at all the things I knew would unravel me. I raised my gaze to his face. I would act as if nothing was wrong. He did not need to know where I was going, or that I was leaving forever.
But the sight of him then, the raw emotion in his expression, told me he already knew. There would be no more pretending. No more lies.
We both just stood there, not speaking, as snow fell all around us—softly, slowly, a barrier that I wished were stronger.
I tightened my grip on my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice shook.
He drew closer, careful and slow. “Your sister told me you’re leaving.”
