A Passionate Endeavor (31 page)

He threw back his head and laughed.

It was outrageous. He was outrageous. She had
never seen him act with so little concern for her sensibilities.
She ran to the door. At the last moment, she was snatched back into
his arms.

“Darling, you do not think I would let you go
now, just when you have almost admitted that my fondest wishes have
been granted?” There was a shining light in his laughter-filled
green eyes.

“Put me down!”

“Not until I hear from your beautiful lips
precisely how long you have loved me.” “I did not admit that.”
“Then it is a shame. You shall have to live with a man who loves
you to distraction while you only tolerate him. I shall not let you
go away, my love.”

“Oh, Nicholas,” she said. “Please don’t make
fun of me or of our situation. You have never loved me. You have
only ever pitied me.”

“Yes, you are right, of course. I was feeling
only pity the day I first met you and railed against your nursing,
and again only pity as you helped me begin to learn how to read,
and pity alone on our wedding night, as we made love in every way
imaginable. It was all done in pity.”

“I beg of you not to lie to me. It would only
lead to great unhappiness,” she said, looking away from the
intensity of his gaze. She pushed at his strong shoulders in an
attempt to release herself from his embrace.

“Oh, no. I shall not let you go. I have not
given you the requisite number of compliments today. First, you are
the most delicately beautiful lady of my acquaintance.”

She sighed in sadness, refusing to
believe.

“Second, you are the most hardheaded—no,
rather, impossibly hardheaded wife, even if it is a beautiful hard
head. And by the way, I take great offence that you would even
think for a moment that I would lie to you. It is a very lowering
thought just after you complimented my great character. And
finally, I do hope Doro and the Robertses are not still in this
cottage, as they and you would be most embarrassed by what I plan
to do to you very, very soon,” he said, then laughed heartily.
“That is, of course, a roundabout way of telling you how attractive
I find you,” he said.

“Well, hmmm, still no dimples. What more can
I say? That I have loved you since the moment I met you? No, I can
see you will not believe that. Well, then, I can assure you that I
have loved you ever since you responded quite eagerly, I might add,
to my first kiss. And if not then, then the time you looked quite
lovely covered in blood and straw when you saved both mare and
foal. But I was sure I loved you after you forced me to take
responsibility for my family, thereby allowing my father to die in
peace.” The last was said in quiet, all laughter drifting away.

“Please stop…” she said, resting her head on
his cravat.

“Charlotte, I love you. And I will not let
you go away from me. So, I am afraid you are stuck with an ignorant
ox of a husband who was too stupid and blind to tell you all this
before, and who now requires you to tell me you will stay and help
me make the Knight properties once again the finest in Christendom,
whether you are able to tell me you love me or not,” he said
quietly in her ear.

At that moment, the haunting call of a mature
cuckoo could be heard. She refused to encounter his expression, so
she hid her face in the folds of his linen. “I do love you,
Nicholas. You know I do, and always have. I will never stop loving
you. And I am so proud you have faced down the familial cuckoos who
usurped your rightful place. I feared it would never happen, and
that you would return to the military life while I lived apart from
you.”

Nicholas nudged open the door and released
her over the threshold. He cupped her face within his hands and
kissed her until she entwined her arms about his neck. She broke
away and continued, “I have a small wedding gift I have been
wanting to give you.”

“And I you,” he said, looking at her with a
heartwarming expression. “You first.”

She took his hand and led him into the clay
room. The large bust she had created with painstaking care was in
the corner, a damp cloth hiding the sculpture. Charlotte uncovered
it to reveal a perfectly formed bust of Nicholas’s head and
chest.

She glanced toward him and saw the surprise
and delight in his expression. “I hope you are pleased with it. It
is not quite right, I know. I did not capture—”

“You captured it all,” he said in awe and
wonder. “I only hope I can live up to the heroic and intelligent
gleam in these noble eyes,” he said, then chuckled.

“I am so glad you like it.”

“I had thought it was a bust of your
irascible cousin.”

“I know. I am sorry he acted toward you as he
did,” she said.

“Actually, I am pitying him, now. Of course,
I was feeling differently when I assumed it was you who had gone
off with him. But once I knew it was the lovely Lady Susan, well—”
Nicholas said, scratching his head, “—I daresay he will be hard
pressed, as a gentleman, to disentangle himself from parson’s
mousetrap. That would put a quick end to his humorous nature.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Knowing Alex as I
do, he will not only convince Lady Susan of the foolishness of her
bold flight but find a solution to avoid her complete ruination—
that is—if she ever finds him.”

“I know I should feel more compassion for
your cousin but at this moment I can think only of you, here with
me,” Nicholas said, cupping her face with his hands. “Although I
daresay my conscience shall get the better of me soon enough and I
shall go riding helter-skelter toward London in search of the pair
of them. Perhaps I can persuade dear Edwin to help me. But enough
of that. We have waited long enough for our own happiness.”

Charlotte felt awash in feminine excitement
mixed with newfound boldness and confidence. The first raindrops
sounded like pebbles hitting the rushes of the cottage. A moment
later, the skies let loose the full fury of the heavy clouds and
lightning flashed.

“But first you must have your present. I am
afraid it is not jewels or pearls, as would be much more fitting.
It is a kiln, my dearest, newly constructed for your use. Not very
romantic, I know.”

“A kiln,” she said in wonder. “You had a kiln
made for me? Why it is exactly what I most wanted! Thank you, oh,
thank you, Nicholas.”

In her exuberance, she flew into his arms and
kissed him using every wicked technique her cousin had
suggested.

“Well, if I had known you would react like
this, I would have given you the silly brick oven ages ago,” he
said, after pulling reluctantly away from her. “Now what say we
ascend to your chamber above and pray that this storm does not let
up for a fortnight?”

“Or two,” Charlotte responded, looking up
into his loving eyes. “Or three,” he said, as he laughed and swung
her up into his arms, where he swore she would always remain.

“
You have delighted us long
enough
.”

—Pride and Prejudice

AS the last few notes of a concerto died away
in the air of the room, the gleeful laughter and clapping of two
young children could be heard.

“All right, my loves, your father has favored
you with not one but three pieces of music, and it is long past
your bedtime,” Charlotte said, looking up from a letter in her
hands.

“But Mama, Father promised us a story too,”
said a little girl of six, with the same dark looks and emerald
eyes of her father.

“And I’m starving. Nanny promised to bring me
an apple and cheese,” wailed the younger brother, whose countenance
matched his mother’s.

Nicholas looked at the happy scene before
him. “Now Solange and Richard, your delaying tactics are well known
to us. But I suppose,” he paused when he saw the delighted smiles
overspread their innocent faces, “we can have a brief, very brief
reading lesson and story as we wait for Nanny.”

Nicholas walked the two children to the long
table and began asking them the names of the old fired-clay letters
he and Charlotte had formed so long ago in the cottage. He
patiently corrected them when the sounds of the letters did not
correspond with their shapes.

He glanced up to catch the loving, proud gaze
of his wife. Their eyes met, and Nicholas was filled with the joy
he had never dreamed would be his.

Nanny appeared at the doorway of the west
salon, bearing the promised apples and cheese. The children rushed
to her with the endless hunger of the very young.

“Dearest?” inquired Charlotte.

“Yes, my love?” He walked over to sit on the
arm of her overstuffed armchair.

“Shall we invite Mr. and Mrs. Llewellyn for
supper tomorrow night?”

“I think a visit with grandmamma and the
vicar is very much in order, now that they have returned from
Italy. It is a wonder she did not burst in on us this afternoon
when they returned.”

Charlotte laughed. “I assume she has someone,
a very special someone, who occupies her uppermost thoughts.”

“Ah, yes. The vicar. He is an old rogue, is
he not? I suspect St. Peter will have many questions for him when
he meets him at heaven’s gates. Knowing Mr. Llewellyn, he will
charm him into acceptance,” Nicholas said, shaking his head.

Nicholas could see the happy glow of laughter
in Charlotte’s large gray eyes. She still appeared to him as a girl
of seventeen instead of five and thirty. “And we should have Mr.
and Mrs. Roberts to celebrate the transfer of the brewery to him as
he has worked devilishly hard.”

“Oh, I love impromptu parties! You must give
Charley the pleasure of laying out your finery tomorrow. It is only
proper, on his final night,” Charlotte said. “I am so glad you
acceded to his request to apprentice with Mr. Babcock, here. I
think he will make an admirable steward for one of the other
properties in a very short time.”

Charlotte paused to brush a lock of his hair
from his brow. Her touch brought the familiar wave of pleasure to
him.

“I fear your stepmother, Edwin, and Susan
would expire from shock at the idea of common folk invading the
hallowed grounds of Wyndhurst Abbey.”

“Yes, well, I for one take comfort in knowing
that we have provided the three of them enough fodder over the
years to warm their conversations at every meal in the wilds of
Yorkshire. But, I have been pleasantly surprised by their behavior
since Edwin and Susan wed, although I suppose I should not be.
Living so far removed, with her ten thousand a year, it would be
next to impossible for them to overspend. In fact, I had thought to
send them word that I would make good on my promise. Do you think
the shock of an offer to use the house in Bath would be too
much?”

A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “I don’t
see why not.”

Nicholas reached down for the letter on his
wife’s lap. “What does your cousin have to say for himself? Still
showing Lady Sheffield the delights of Paris in the
springtime?”

“No. I’m afraid he has wearied of that lady
and of Paris. He talks of coming to visit us. Let’s see,” she said,
looking at the letter. “He writes, ‘I shall bestow on you and your
husband my presence if you can assure me that Edwin and Lady Susan
will not make an untimely appearance. I should not want to have to
disappear again for a year, although I cannot say my year in
Biarritz and St. Jean de Luz was not well-spent.’ “

“I do believe, dearest, that you are not
translating the last part very well. There seems to be a somewhat
delicate reference to a certain lady and what he did to her
anatomy. He may come as long as he does not contemplate any part of
your anatomy.”

Charlotte smiled and folded the letter.

The two children piled into their mother and
father’s laps. “Now, Father, you promised us the story,” said
Solange, with the same commanding tone Nicholas used.

“Why, you know I cannot read, my sweet,”
Nicholas said, looking into the serious expression of his daughter
and mussing the top of her dark hair.

“That’s a great bouncer, Father. Now read our
favorite story again, please,” begged his son with large gray eyes.
“Yes, the one about the girl who saves the knight who is then saved
in return,” Solange said, handing her father a storybook. “Ah, yes,
A Passionate Endeavor
, my favorite, too!” he said, smiling
at Charlotte as he opened the book. The soft touch of Charlotte’s
hand glided through his hair. He closed his eyes and felt her
gentle kiss on his forehead. “Once upon a time…”

The End

~Bonus excerpt after the Author’s Note~

In November 1896, an English doctor published
Congenital Word Blindness, the first description of a learning
disorder that would come to be known as dyslexia. Until that time
and beyond, many children and adults were cruelly labeled “slow to
learn” and much worse.

In today’s more enlightened world, many
theories abound as to the cause and treatment of dyslexia. While
researching the many different techniques employed to teach
individuals with dyslexia, I read about an unusual method that used
clay and large solid forms of letters to help certain dyslexics
learn to read. This technique was the inspiration for several
scenes in A Passionate Endeavor. However, I must add that I have no
firsthand knowledge of the pro-gram’s actual success. If you would
like to read The Sunday Times (London) article that provided the
inspiration, please go to:
http://www.times-archive.co.uk/news/pages/tim/
2000/03/21/timfeabam03003.html. There are also many more library
books and sites on the interne with helpful information.

One final note: There is a scene in this book
during which the hero suggests a knowledge of the female
reproductive cycle. In fact, during the Regency period, it was
mistakenly believed that conception could only occur at the
beginning of the cycle, very much like other mammals. It is no
wonder some women, in the past, had ten or more children! It was
not until the early twentieth century that this concept was proven
incorrect, thereby introducing a more successful rhythm method.