Love on Assignment (34 page)

Charlotte stifled a sharp intake of breath. She knew what was coming.

“I thought it might help me overcome my grief and bring peace to my mind. Instead, I learned of her love for another. It broke my heart that she'd deceived me.”

“I'm so sorry, Daniel.”

“It hurt too much to learn the truth. I was better off not knowing all the facts.”

“I understand why you don't wish to hear my confession. It surely would cause you pain.” And drive a wedge between them.

He drew out a ring and reached for her hand. “So, Charlotte, will you marry me?”

“I don't know what to say,” she murmured.

“Just say yes.” He tried to slide the ring on her finger, but she withdrew her hand. “What's wrong?”

“I can't marry you. With all my heart, I wish I could.”

“Charlotte, please reconsider. I love you and I think you love me as well.”

Perhaps he'd spared her a confession, but she couldn't marry him with a weight as heavy as the guilt crushing her heart. He placed her on a pedestal. Her heart ached, but leaving him with a pleasant, if distorted, impression of her was better than confessing and bringing him only disillusionment. He refused the truth and she wouldn't force him to hear it. He was a good man, but he was only human. Hot tears stung the back of her eyes, ready to betray her confusion.

She wouldn't force him to listen, but she couldn't marry him with her conscience burdened with guilt. Besides, so many other things sought to keep them apart. “You come from a privileged family while mine is quite ordinary. No one would accept me as a suitable wife for you, and who could blame them?”

“Certainly we have differences in our backgrounds, but neither of us subscribe to such conventionalities.”

Charlotte sighed. “And I won't move to New York.”

She glanced away to avoid the shock and sorrow in his face— she could feel the echoes of it across the table.

“I think we ought to go,” she whispered. Then a small sob escaped. “I'm sorry things can't work out between us.”

“No, Charlotte, please stay. We can find a way if we try. I've prayed about it and—”

“So have I. It's no use.” She rose on unsteady legs and turned away. Her throat clogged with dismay and she couldn't swallow. She didn't want Daniel to see the conflict that must be parading across her face. “I'm sorry to leave before we've had our dinner, but I must go.”

As she wove around the tables toward the door, she scanned the small crowd of cheerful diners. How she envied them their gaiety.

The ride home in the buggy seemed interminable. She watched Daniel stare straight ahead, never glancing in her direction. His jaw sagged with obvious disappointment. Minutes dragged by as the horses' hooves beat against the dark dirt roads, nearly drowning out the hum of crickets and tree frogs.

TWENTY-ONE

S
louched in his buggy, Daniel watched Charlotte rush toward the servants' entrance at the rear of Summerhill. She disappeared without even a backward glance. With a weary sigh, he buried his face in his hands, blocking out the inky blue sky.

Lord, I'm not sure what exactly went wrong, but I'm beseeching You to please change her mind about marrying me. I can't imagine living without Charlotte by my side. She's everything I want and need in a wife. You brought us together, so I don't understand why You've let her turn away from me. It doesn't make any sense
.

He climbed out of the carriage and watched the coachman head toward the stable. The
clip-clop
of horses' hooves soon died away. He walked past the back veranda facing the water. Pale moonlight sprinkled its glitter over the black waves edged with silver lace. The rustle of trees and the wash of the sea wrapped him with the soothing voice of night. But comfort didn't come. He stood at the edge of the lawn for several long minutes, buffeted by salt spray, chilled by the breeze and by his own dashed hopes. When he finally turned around, he looked to the veranda, wishing Charlotte would emerge through the French doors. But of course she didn't. He glanced up to her second floor bedroom. Lamplight glowed in her window, then after a while, flickered to darkness. Blank, empty windows stared down at him.

He heaved a groan as he returned to the cottage. His stomach grumbled, so he went straight to the dining room and he rang for some supper. Anything would do. He settled into a heavy upholstered chair and waited.

In a short while his mother swept in, her thin lips pursed in surprise. “Why, it's only nine o'clock. I didn't expect you home so soon. How was your dinner?”

He shrugged as a maid placed a bowl of steaming clam chowder on the table in front of him. “All right, I suppose.”

“Oh? I find it strange you're hungry after dinner at the Coastal Inn. Didn't they give you enough to eat?” Cold amusement played at the corner of her mouth.

Daniel recoiled. “We didn't stay long enough to finish our meal. We both needed to be alone, so we left early.”

He took a spoonful of the rich creamy broth. “As soon as I eat a little of this, I'm adjourning for the night. But first, I'll explain what happened so you won't speculate. I asked Charlotte to marry me and she turned me down.”

His mother's eyes flashed anger. “I can't believe you proposed to that woman. Whatever possessed you?”

“Love, Mother. I love Charlotte.” His mother wouldn't understand. Not after what she had endured with his father.

Vivian waved her hand in dismissal. “Love? You can't possibly mean it. Charlotte Hale is completely unsuitable and you ought to know that. I'm sorry you're upset, but I expect you'll forget about her soon enough.”

Unwilling to argue, he answered, “Believe whatever you wish.”

“All's well that ends well, I always say.” She sent him a smug smile.

Daniel winced. “You're gleeful about this, aren't you?”

She sputtered a short laugh. “Of course I am. I have your best interests at heart.” Her brittle smile quickly faded to a grimace. Drawing out a tired sigh, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes for several moments.

“Aren't you feeling well?” Daniel asked, alarmed that her skin had taken on the color of cement.

A few moments later she opened her eyes and shrugged hunched, bony shoulders. “I'm exhausted, but I believe it's caused more from your recent behavior than my illness. Mooning over the hired help. It's disgraceful.” Her lips thinned to an ugly gash, distorting her face.

“Yes, Mother, I know your feelings about Charlotte. But tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I do suffer from aches and pains, and now and then, a touch of angina. But it's nothing severe enough to worry about.” Her voice sounded weak as she spread her fingers over the bodice of her brocade gown. She heaved for several deep breaths of air.

“Mother, are you sure you're all right? Shall I call for the doctor?” Daniel reached for her hand.

She shook her head. “Nonsense. It was only a momentary spell. I'm fine now. Just help me to bed.” Her gaze focused, and her color returned, but her voice shook slightly. “Tell me. Did Charlotte explain why she refused your proposal?”

“I'd rather not go into that.”

He walked his mother to her bedroom, his arm spanning her waist. She was as fragile as one of the porcelain figurines on her whatnot shelves. “Shall I ask Simone to sleep in your bedroom tonight?”

She gave a faint smile. “That's not necessary.”

“All right, but please call Doctor Lowe tomorrow.”

After she was settled into her four-poster bed, he headed to his own room.

He dropped into an overstuffed chair and opened his Bible. For over an hour he tried to read, but he couldn't concentrate on words that normally renewed his mind and brought him hope. And comfort. Nothing eased the sting of Charlotte's rejection or explained it.

CHARLOTTE FLUNG HERSELF on her bed and sobbed until her eyes were swollen and sore. Her lies cracked her heart wide open. Much worse, she'd hurt Daniel, the man she loved. She'd thrown it all away for a dubious career at a newspaper fueled by sensationalism and character assassination. How pathetic. Sniffing, she dabbed at her burning eyelids with her handkerchief and blew her nose. All the self-pity in the world wouldn't help her situation.

She pulled her clothes out of the bureau drawers and wardrobe and tossed them into her valise, then put all of Daniel's columns into an envelope. Tomorrow she'd go home, where she could piece her life back together.

Grace came to her room just as she finished packing. Her friend's eyes grew wide as she dropped onto the bed.

“Are you leaving?” Grace tilted her head. “You've been crying.

Did something dreadful happen between you and the professor?”

Charlotte pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “Yes. He proposed and I turned him down.” She stared out the window into the dark night for several moments.

“But why?”

“I told you I'd explain the whole story and I shall.” Charlotte began slowly and then let the awful truth spill out.

“Oh my,” Grace murmured. She rose and looped her arm around Charlotte. “Even though it was very wrong of you to deceive the professor, the Lord forgives you.”

Charlotte sighed. “I know and I'm ever so grateful for His grace and mercy. But I'm not sure Daniel would be so compassionate. And I couldn't blame him. I shall never forgive myself for my lies. They've brought such dreadful misery to him, and to me as well.”

AT NINE O'CLOCK she awoke with a start to a cloudy morning and a wet wind blowing through the screens. She slammed the window shut and quickly pulled on her uniform. Her foggy brain refused to think clearly and her heart weighed like a boulder in her tight chest. Memories of last night kept spinning through her mind.

Daniel had caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to propose, though she'd encouraged his attention over the last few days. The odds of winning over his mother were next to nothing, but she'd assumed incorrectly he wouldn't marry without her blessing. She'd overestimated Mrs. Wilmont's influence on her son, or perhaps underestimated Daniel's love for a mere governess. Either way, it made little difference.

This morning she'd tell Daniel she was quitting her job and why, whether he wanted to hear it or not. Mrs. Finnegan could assist with the children until the Wilmonts hired another governess. Charlotte blew out a sigh. She shouldn't leave the family in the lurch, but she couldn't face Daniel day after day and hide the secrets of her heart. And now that she'd refused to accept his proposal . . . it was best she just be on her way. For both their sakes.

If she were a good Christian, she would've obeyed the Lord's urging to confess last evening. Instead she'd let courage slip away under the guise of saving Daniel from pain. What she'd really done was protect herself from humiliation. Then without a second thought, she'd bolted like a scared child.

She closed her bedroom door, checked on the children, and found their rooms empty. They spent considerable time in the library, so she hurried downstairs to search. Instead, she found Mrs. Finnegan supervising the parlor maids' window washing in the cavernous, yet cozy room. The smell of ammonia assailed Charlotte's nose.

“The two rapscallions are searching high and low for you,” the housekeeper said as she watched the maids wipe crumbled newspaper across the glass. “Ruthie said she'd rapped on your door, but you didn't answer.”

“I'm afraid I overslept. Where are they now?”

“Reading with their grandmother in the morning room.” Mrs. Finnegan turned toward the young parlor maid. “More elbow grease, Maggie. And you missed a wee spot.” Her thick finger pointed to a smudge.

“Well, I'm glad the children are busy. Do you know where I might find the professor?”

“I suppose he's off to class, dearie. Where else would he be going at this hour?”

“You're right. I need to give Professor Wilmont an important message.”

Mrs. Finnegan tilted her head, and her crooked white bun slid even farther to the side. “Are you feeling all right? You're not looking like yourself.”

“I'll admit I've been better.” Charlotte headed for the door.

“Don't be running off without a bite of breakfast. How about a nice soft-boiled egg? Chef Jacques won't mind fixing something.”

It was a shame that food, everyone's favorite remedy, wouldn't help, but her stomach roiled like the surf. Besides, she didn't have a moment to spare. “Not now, but thank you for thinking of me.”

Heading for the front door, a sharp voice from the morning room stopped her mid-step.

“Miss Hale. I wish to speak to you,” Mrs. Wilmont said.

Charlotte faced the frail woman dressed in gray silk and reluctantly stepped into the room. “Yes, ma'am.”

Mrs. Wilmont lifted her chin. “Come here, Charlotte. Children, please go off to the library while I have a word with your governess.” Tim dashed across the room and out the door while Ruthie lingered until her grandmother waved her away. The woman turned her attention back to Charlotte with blue eyes, frozen like icebergs, yet glinting with an inner flame.