“Any friend of the de Bourghs is a friend of mine,” she offered blandly, watching his smile fade a little.
“You are most gracious,” he said, hesitating. “Yet I must confess I was hoping for a deeper intimacy. Perhaps I could call upon you in Hertfordshire?”
I need to get him out now, before he ruins my last chance with Mary.She pitched her tone carefully. Grateful, but not encouraging. “I am flattered, sir, but you must recall that I am recently widowed.”
“Yes, of course.” He looked flustered, as if he had not expected such resistance. “I had not thought—but of course. Do you think that you might ever be able to find a place in your heart for me? I am willing to wait as long as need be.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and turned slightly towards the window.Courage, now, if I ever possessed it.“You did not know my husband, Mr Innes, so allow me to share something with you. He was a clever man and a wonderful speaker, yet he listened to all I had to say. He sought to understand himself, and to find the beauty in the world’s darkest places. He was the kind of man who noticed a single lonely flower in a vast meadow of far more beautiful blooms. I—” She flushed, heart hammering. These words were like bricks, obstructing the obvious path of her future, yet at the same time building a new, unexpected road. “Though the time we spent together was comparatively short, I do not think anyone could ever compare to him. I intend to remain loyal for the rest of my life.”
A tiny gasp, quickly stifled, came from the general vicinity of the curtains.
“I understand,” Mr Innes said, a little flushed himself. “I confess myself disappointed, but the way you talk about him makes me sorry I did not meet him myself. I would have liked to better myself by his example.”
“We all may do so.” Charlotte smiled, her vision blurry.
He bowed deeply. “Then I shall take my leave. Good day, Mrs Collins.”
No sooner had the door closed behind him than Mary appeared, her gloves crushed in clenched fists. She opened her mouth to speak, but Charlotte interrupted. “A wise woman once told me that she preferred to see a flower in full bloom shivering in the breeze, rather than a lifeless bloom pressed in a book.”
Mary swallowed. “I did, but—”
“What do you say, darling? Is it time I planted myself outside? Or is the season already past?” A heartbeat of silence passed, their eyes locked on each other, and Mary did not offer a response. Charlotte’s heart hammered even faster. “I heard you were lately seen with Miss Carlisle,” she added. “I hope you did not—at least I hope that I did not push you to—” She drew a deep breath. “If you assure me that you’re happy and that she has changed her deviant ways, then I will gladly step aside.”
“Who told you that?” Mary demanded.
“Mrs Tremaine,” Charlotte admitted ruefully. “Else I would have come back the next day, like your aunt told me to.”
“Your mistake was believing anything that awful woman said.” She swallowed. “I told you the truth of what Anne did to me last year, and I thought it would have been evident that I would never agree to partner with her again. She tried to accost me upon her return from Austria, and I told her as much. We were never out together—not like that.”
Relief flooded Charlotte. She could never have forgiven herself had she pushed Mary back into the arms of someone whodid not care a single fig for fidelity.Perhaps there is still a chance.She held up the letter again, and this time Mary did not flinch.
“You cannot imagine how many of these I wrote and did not send, for none of them contained even a tenth of my true feelings. I turned up at your house and your aunt gave me a very hard time indeed, though nowhere near as hard as I deserved. Mary, if I believed that another woman could ever make you happier than I, I would not be here now.” She took a deep breath. “And yet I have still not said anything to you worth hearing. I see now that my mistake was trying to use English, when I ought to have been using the language I speak best.” She turned her back on Mary, and strode to the longest table. “A red tulip,” said she, plucking one, “for I wish you to believe my declaration of love. A handful of forget-me-nots, to represent all the memories we’ve shared.” She added the flowers. Mary’s eyes had begun to fill with tears again, and Charlotte’s own lip was wobbling. “I would add fern if it were here,” her voice quavered, “for all the shelter you gave me, to say nothing of the confidence you instilled in a pathetic wallflower.”
“Charlotte—”
“I am not finished,” she said, smiling. “I must add violets, for the perfume that bewitched me from the start, and to signify my faithfulness in turn, should you wish it. I was foolish, and I did not see all the opportunities life had gifted me. I am so, so sorry I hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”
She presented the bouquet and Mary accepted it, her cheeks glistening. “I can,” Mary said, her voice wavering. “Could you ever love me?”
Charlotte pressed her forehead against Mary’s, her breath ragged. “Darling, I never stopped.”
“I told you once that I was yours, indefinitely,” said she, “and I meant it.”
“I know you did.” She sighed. “I am only sorry that I did not start forever sooner.”
The bouquet slipped from Mary’s grasp as their lips met. The kiss was long and sweet, promising of more to come. The scent of violet drifted through the air, mixing with the smell of apple blossoms. “I prefer you to all others,” Charlotte murmured, smiling. “Hmm. I did not include those in my selection for this evening. Was this your doing?”
“No,” Mr Mellor said from the doorway, making them both jump in surprise. “It was mine. Though I confess it was prompted by your love of meanings, Charlotte.” He turned and threw a backwards glance over his shoulder, grinning. “I’ll watch the door while you two young fools sort yourselves out.”
Charlotte buried her face in Mary’s neck, holding the woman she loved close. “I love you,” she breathed. “I have loved you since your knee first touched mine, since you drew me with such exquisiteness, since you went out of your way to find flowers you knew would enchant me. I should have said all this far sooner.”
“How I have longed to hear you say those words.” Mary’s breath caught, her voice hitching, her arms tightening around Charlotte’s waist. “I love you too.”
Charlotte knew that the path ahead would not be easy, but happiness was never a smooth road. The important thing was that she was finally where she belonged; planted firmly, ready to bloom.
Epilogue
Charlotte dibbled a hole in the warm soil to the depth of two inches, marking the size with her thumb, then dropped a single seed into it. Filling up the hole again, she wetted the soil carefully, and sat back to admire her efforts. It had taken the best part of an hour to seed four rows, and she still had to examine a wilting orchid and oversee the pruning of Mr Mellor’s new topiary. Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, she felt pride bloom in her chest. No matter how hard she worked, or how long the days, the fruits of her labour were there at every turn. The roses had won their usual prizes, and the citrus trees were producing even more luscious bounties than usual. Mr Mellor was delighted with her work, and Charlotte’s growing confidence had allowed him to hand over more and more responsibilities.
