With a firm grasp, he placed his hand in the wood frame and inserted one toe of his boot. He pulled gently; the wood held, and he scaled the wall. As soon as his shoulders were level with her balcony, he withdrew the letter. The thickness of the envelope wouldn’t allow for him to wedge it into the small space between the windows, so he gently pulled on the locked panes, creating a gap just wide enough for the letter. He heard it thump to the floor of her room and began his descent as the sides of the windows clanged gently against each other.
He had done it. She’d see his letter in the morning, and though they’d never speak again, perhaps she’d accept his apology and not resent him for the rest of her life. He also longed to know how George fared.
He tried not to think of the beauty, the kindness, the smile, and the starry eyes that slept just beyond his reach. As his foot reached the ground, a cold wind pressed against his face, bidding him to leave. The sting of the brisk air tasted bitter. A solitary crow let out a long caw.
This night proved all too fitting for the numbness that lodged deep in his soul.
***
From somewhere in her uneasy sleep, Charlotte heard something jangling. She opened her eyes in the darkness. The moon shone in such a way that it filtered through her paned windows, which continued to click against each other, despite the fact that the hook held them shut.
Perhaps it was rustling wind, but as Charlotte glanced at the trees, the leaves were too still. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rose and saw something white lying on the floor. She stepped closer, recognizing the outline of an envelope against the dark wood below her.
She snatched the paper and, before cracking the seal, peered out the window. When she saw and heard no movement, she ripped open the flap.
The letter was strangely thick, an entire folded paper enclosing another small sheet. As she withdrew the contents, something glimmered in the envelope. Pressing the sides of the paper together, she peered into it and held her breath.
She didn’t need to touch it to know what it was, but one hand instinctively flew to her neck. Although askew, her own pendant still hung there. In one motion she flicked the paper open and began to read by the moonlight.
Charlotte,
I do not write to speak of my affection. It is truly for the best if you forget I ever existed. But, to appease my conscience, I must return this stone to you. Weeks ago you claimed you had recovered the jewel I originally found after I dropped it years ago. I never corrected you. However, the truth is this: I placed the jewel I found that day into my pocket before your father sent me away. I kept it all this time because I hoped I might one day reconcile my past and return to what I once was. Now I know that will never be. I wished for so many things that could never be mine.
I am ashamed that I ever thought of your land for gain, and I promise never to pursue it again. This gem represents the only bit of Roylance property I ever kept that I shouldn’t have taken. I pray you will forgive me and know that I will forever cherish our time together as the best in my life.
—Alex
Charlotte’s shoulders heaved up and down as her breaths quickened. This letter. It meant he had just been here, next to her balcony, only feet away.
She reread the end of the note, emotion causing her vision to home in on one sentence.
Alex was wrong. That gem did not represent the only thing he had taken.
In a flash her heart spoke a truth she hadn’t fully realized before. Just hours ago she’d written to Harris Ainscough, declaring she wouldn’t accept him, resigning herself to an honest but heartbroken future. But what she wanted wasn’t to be heartbroken. She finally knew she needed to chase after love instead of trying to bury her feelings. Alex was worth fighting for.
Frantic she’d lose her opportunity to find him, Charlotte let the letter fall to the ground and hurried to her closet, lacing up her shoes. There wasn’t time to think beyond that; she only knew she should act. In a few bounds she crossed the room and unlatched the window. She peered out to the front drive.
It was empty.
Her heart slipped into her stomach. It had to be possible he was still somehow near.
She didn’t dare call out his name or make any noise. Heaven only knew that Walter would rise in an instant, no matter the hour. Christopher, too, might come after her. When she scanned the area again and still saw no one, she pulled up the wrinkled day dress she’d fallen asleep in and tucked a bit of it securely around her waist. With a shudder, shudder, she remembered why this felt so familiar.
The thrill of the thought of success raced through her as her feet reached solid ground. She adjusted her dress once again and pulled herself up to her full height, drawing breath and courage simultaneously. Running into the dark woods was a daft endeavor, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Once ensconced by the shadows of the trees, she called out, “Alex.”
She paused, listening past the crunching of her footsteps and into the tight silence.
Nothing.
Pacing farther into the woods, she tried more earnestly. “Alex, are you here? Alexander? Please answer me.” Silence was the only echo until she thought she heard a footstep. She ran toward the sound. She was far enough into the woods that she raised her voice, emboldened. “Alex, Alex, please,” she called.
A dark figure up ahead turned and walked slowly toward her. As she called Alex’s name again, the figure’s pace quickened, and within moments a patch of moonlight filtered through the trees and she could see his face clearly, confirming her hope.
“Charlotte!” he cried, coming to her and grasping her hands. “What are you doing here?” He squeezed her hands. “You must return to the castle.”
Part of her wished to throw her arms around him, but at such a suggestion, her indignation won out, and she crossed her arms. “Oh, not you too! Alexander Jenkins, I’ve had far too many people order me around in my life.”
