Charles's chest continued to rise and fall rapidly as he stood in the hall of Pendlebury Estate. He'd been riding for ages, it seemed, and his entire body felt sore, felt tired. Perhaps, though, this was simply the grief he'd been experiencing all rushing over him at once. He suddenly couldn't even fight back a sense of exhaustion. Nothing seemed better now than to lay beside his wife in bed once again. It seemed like ages ago to him that they last shared a bed and, it truly was. The only time they'd spent nights apart was when he'd been off in battle.
Servants milled around, woken by his cries that still rung in his ears. Besides their occasional whispers, it was deafeningly silent and Charles certainly did not like it. He started to pull off his gloves and then toyed with the pieces of leather nervously. How would Harriet react? She would most likely anger, at first, for he'd come at such an unreasonable hour. Not only that, but she was still most likely enraged and hating him for whatever he'd done weeks ago when Lizzie died. He was, of course, still too stubborn to believe he'd rally done anything wrong. Had he not just been grieving like her? Had he not been looking out for her? Trying to keep not only his heir, but his wife safe? Even the doctor and her brother would have suggested it, but she hadn't ignored those men! These thoughts began to worry him and so he twisted the gloves in his hands, working the tough leather in an antsy manner.
It was then that he began to hear doors on the floors above, followed by footsteps, soft footsteps. Could it be her? Charles's gut knotted in anticipation and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Oh lord, perhaps this was not the best decision after all? Should he just go back to his mount and ride back to Briar? Charles sighed. No. No, he was a Rayleigh and Rayleigh men did not shy away in the face of danger or a threat. He would do what he had to do to ensure that his family stayed together, despite the tragedies they had faced.
The sound of footsteps drew nearer at a painfully slow rate until Charles felt he could no longer take it. What sort of torture was this? Finally, the sound stopped and he looked up toward the top of the stairs where Harriet stood, looking straight back at him. It had to have been weeks since he last saw her. Harriet seemed slightly less grievous, though obviously she had not recovered yet from the death, much like him. What caused him the most pain was seeing how much their unborn child seemed to have grown in the past weeks.
He seemed to be at a complete loss for words as Harriet slowly descended the stairs. He must have looked horrific, really. To have ridden so long would have made him look even more disheveled than he currently felt. She stopped midway, which worried Charles ever so slightly. "Charles," she whispered. The whisper, however, reached him in the quiet hall. "Why are you here?"
"Harriet..." he finally managed to croak out. He had wished he began in a more endearing manner, perhaps, but that was simply all he could get out. "Oh, Harriet..." Charles swallowed a lump again, fear rising. Had she already begun to hate him? Would he have arrived too late? "It feels like years since we've seen each other..." He gave a light laugh, but it was obvious this laugh was a sad one. He approached the staircase and hurried up a few of the stairs until he was only three away from Harriet. His stop was sudden, as if he'd just remembered they were still not back on good terms. "Why am I here...? I am not sure...perhaps I came because I could no longer stand the silent, judgmental faces in Briar...or, perhaps, because I missed your presence." He gave a light sigh, coupled with a fake laugh to try and make the mood less tense. His expression suddenly turned serious and he looked up into Harriet's eyes with evident concern.
"Hattie...I want to forget her death just as much as you," he whispered. "If I could have, I would have given my own life to save hers...as would you." He took a slow inhale of breath. "I am still not sure how I angered you...but, things can not carry on like this any longer. It has been a month now, Hallie. A month since her death and you have not so much as spoken a word to me." His jaw clenched and he looked away. "I expected more from my wife, Hattie...I expected someone who would comfort me as I comfort them, who would love me as I love them...I did not expect to be ignored, to be looked down upon by the woman I share my bed with. I have done nothing but love you since Lizzie died, Harriet...today, I almost stopped doing so. Today, I almost wished to cast you from my life...but, I came here instead." Silence ensued, a prolonged silence that seemed like it would last for ages. He then looked back at her, his eyes fixed on her blue ones. "Perhaps what I mean to say is will you come back to Briar with me? Will you resume your position as my wife? My queen? Will you continue to love me...?" He paused, obviously pained by the next part. "...or has this chapter of our lives simply come to a close? For, if you do not love me anymore, I see no point in keeping you in my household..." Perhaps his words were becoming too harsh, but he was speaking out of fear now.
"What will it be, Hattie...?"
Servants milled around, woken by his cries that still rung in his ears. Besides their occasional whispers, it was deafeningly silent and Charles certainly did not like it. He started to pull off his gloves and then toyed with the pieces of leather nervously. How would Harriet react? She would most likely anger, at first, for he'd come at such an unreasonable hour. Not only that, but she was still most likely enraged and hating him for whatever he'd done weeks ago when Lizzie died. He was, of course, still too stubborn to believe he'd rally done anything wrong. Had he not just been grieving like her? Had he not been looking out for her? Trying to keep not only his heir, but his wife safe? Even the doctor and her brother would have suggested it, but she hadn't ignored those men! These thoughts began to worry him and so he twisted the gloves in his hands, working the tough leather in an antsy manner.
It was then that he began to hear doors on the floors above, followed by footsteps, soft footsteps. Could it be her? Charles's gut knotted in anticipation and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Oh lord, perhaps this was not the best decision after all? Should he just go back to his mount and ride back to Briar? Charles sighed. No. No, he was a Rayleigh and Rayleigh men did not shy away in the face of danger or a threat. He would do what he had to do to ensure that his family stayed together, despite the tragedies they had faced.
The sound of footsteps drew nearer at a painfully slow rate until Charles felt he could no longer take it. What sort of torture was this? Finally, the sound stopped and he looked up toward the top of the stairs where Harriet stood, looking straight back at him. It had to have been weeks since he last saw her. Harriet seemed slightly less grievous, though obviously she had not recovered yet from the death, much like him. What caused him the most pain was seeing how much their unborn child seemed to have grown in the past weeks.
He seemed to be at a complete loss for words as Harriet slowly descended the stairs. He must have looked horrific, really. To have ridden so long would have made him look even more disheveled than he currently felt. She stopped midway, which worried Charles ever so slightly. "Charles," she whispered. The whisper, however, reached him in the quiet hall. "Why are you here?"
"Harriet..." he finally managed to croak out. He had wished he began in a more endearing manner, perhaps, but that was simply all he could get out. "Oh, Harriet..." Charles swallowed a lump again, fear rising. Had she already begun to hate him? Would he have arrived too late? "It feels like years since we've seen each other..." He gave a light laugh, but it was obvious this laugh was a sad one. He approached the staircase and hurried up a few of the stairs until he was only three away from Harriet. His stop was sudden, as if he'd just remembered they were still not back on good terms. "Why am I here...? I am not sure...perhaps I came because I could no longer stand the silent, judgmental faces in Briar...or, perhaps, because I missed your presence." He gave a light sigh, coupled with a fake laugh to try and make the mood less tense. His expression suddenly turned serious and he looked up into Harriet's eyes with evident concern.
"Hattie...I want to forget her death just as much as you," he whispered. "If I could have, I would have given my own life to save hers...as would you." He took a slow inhale of breath. "I am still not sure how I angered you...but, things can not carry on like this any longer. It has been a month now, Hallie. A month since her death and you have not so much as spoken a word to me." His jaw clenched and he looked away. "I expected more from my wife, Hattie...I expected someone who would comfort me as I comfort them, who would love me as I love them...I did not expect to be ignored, to be looked down upon by the woman I share my bed with. I have done nothing but love you since Lizzie died, Harriet...today, I almost stopped doing so. Today, I almost wished to cast you from my life...but, I came here instead." Silence ensued, a prolonged silence that seemed like it would last for ages. He then looked back at her, his eyes fixed on her blue ones. "Perhaps what I mean to say is will you come back to Briar with me? Will you resume your position as my wife? My queen? Will you continue to love me...?" He paused, obviously pained by the next part. "...or has this chapter of our lives simply come to a close? For, if you do not love me anymore, I see no point in keeping you in my household..." Perhaps his words were becoming too harsh, but he was speaking out of fear now.
"What will it be, Hattie...?"
