Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"As the sun set over the distant mountains, Isabella sat by the loch, looking out over the still waters, longing for Hamish's return. She loved him, and his absence had only deepened her love for him. How she longed for him, and… no, I don't like that bit. It doesn't sound right," Charlotte said, looking up from the manuscript she was reading and sighing.

Jacob was sitting opposite her on the grass in the garden at Thrushcross Grange, and he smiled at her and shook his head.

"What's wrong with it? I think it's excellent," he replied.

Charlotte had been reading aloud from her manuscript, but reading aloud and reading in one's head were two very different things. The words sounded different in flow and diction. What had sounded right in her head now sounded disjointed–wrong, even.

"It's not right. I'll have to rewrite it," Charlotte replied, looking down despondently at the page.

Writing a novel was far harder than she had thought. It was a seemingly endless process of rewriting, of editing, and disappointment. Just as she thought she had the words she wanted, doubt crept in; a word out of place, a line to be altered, a plot line with a hole in it.

"Wait a moment. Perhaps we could change it together? I'm sure it's salvageable. Don't discard it," Jacob said.

Charlotte gave a weak smile, but he had a way of encouraging her when she was feeling despondent. She had read several parts of the manuscript to him over the past few days, and each time, she had found herself questioning her own writing and wondering if she really could call herself a novelist after all. The books she read were different, and every word seemed right and in its correct place.

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm just not meant to be a writer," she said.

"I won't hear you say that. You've got a real talent, Charlotte. It's not everyone who can write like you do. Most people think it's easy to write a novel. But it's not. You can't expect it to be perfect first time. You have to draft, and redraft, and draft again. It's a constant process of editing and even disappointment. That's what my friends in the publishing business say," Jacob replied.

He was trying to help, but Charlotte had discovered herself a perfectionist. It had to be right, and if it was not, she would only grow angry with herself.

"I'll try again. I'm writing a new chapter at the moment. I'm going to read it out loud or to Sara. It might make it easier," Charlotte said.

She was feeling despondent, but she was grateful to Jacob for his help. He was gentle in his encouragement, and over the past few days, he had listened patiently to her work, making suggestions and offering praise. But Charlotte knew she was the only one who could help herself. It was her novel, and only she could write it.

"That's a good idea. I could come tomorrow and help?" he said, as they rose from the grass to return inside.

Charlotte smiled and nodded. She was growing used to his company, his kind and gentle demeanor, and his encouraging words. He was different when he was not in the company of Olivia. Charlotte liked him, and she was growing ever fonder of him. It was a strange and unexpected feeling, but not one she resisted. Her mind was almost made up. Marriage to the Earl of Swadlincote would not be a trial, with or without Olivia.

"I'd like that, yes," Charlotte said, and now he offered her his arm as they walked back towards the house.

Charlotte felt at ease in his company. It seemed as their conversation never stilted, was never difficult, and his encouraging words had helped overcome her self-doubt. She was grateful to him, though she did not yet have the words to say it. They had not shared anything about their feelings for one another, and Charlotte wondered if the time they had spent together had given rise to feelings in the earl for her, too.

But Charlotte had held back, fearing the possibility of hurt or embarrassment. This was meant to be a business arrangement; a transaction and nothing else. To allow feelings to enter the situation would alter it irreparably.

"Charlotte? Oh, Charlotte, there you are," Charlotte's mother exclaimed, and now she appeared on the terrace above the lawn, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she hurried down the steps in a fit of hysterics.

"Mother? What's wrong? What's happened?" Charlotte exclaimed, for her mother appeared terribly distraught, and now she thrust the piece of paper into Charlotte's hand.

"Look… your father… oh, how terrible. I told him not to go… I begged him. But did he listen? Does he ever listen? Oh, I can't bear the thought…" she exclaimed.

Charlotte took the piece of paper, and she and Jacob began to read. It was a letter, addressed to Charlotte's mother, telling her that her husband was being held to ransom, and that if she did not pay a sizable sum in the coming days, she would never see him again. Charlotte's eyes grew wide with fear, and she looked at Jacob, who shook his head in astonishment.

"I'll do everything I can to help, I promise you, Mrs. Davidson," he said, and Charlotte's mother threw her arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh, my Lord… thank you… how blessed we are in you. My poor husband. I can only imagine the terror he feels. Please, if you can do something, anything," she exclaimed.

Charlotte now read the letter through again. It was signed only with the threat, and there was no indication as to the writer, or why they were doing as they were doing.

"When was it delivered, mother?" she asked.

"Oh, Langley brought it to me just now… I can't bear the thought… oh, your poor father. He'll be terrified," Charlotte's mother exclaimed, as Jacob now helped her up the steps to the terrace.

"It must've happened in Liverpool; that's where father was going. Unless they snatched him on the road. But he was going by mail coach. They'd have had to hold up the coach itself to take him. But why?" Charlotte said.

It was all very strange; a mystery she could not explain. She was anxious, of course, but something was not right.

"I promise I'll do whatever I can, Charlotte," Jacob said, and Charlotte nodded, grateful to him for his words.

"That's very kind, thank you. But I don't really know what can be done. We'll have to pay the ransom, but… Oh!" Charlotte exclaimed, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by what happened; by everything.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she stared down at the letter in disbelief, fearing for her father, and what would become of her and her mother if something terrible should happen to him. There would be no marriage then.

"It's all right. I'll go at once and make some enquiries. I've got contacts in Liverpool. We'll soon find out what's going on," Jacob said. Charlotte's mother was leaning on the terrace parapet with her head in her hands, and he put his arms around Charlotte.

It was the first time he had done so, and there was something immensely comforting about his presence. Charlotte believed him when he told her he would do what he could to help. He was sincere, and she trusted him.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I didn't think… well, it just doesn't make sense, does it?" Charlotte said, as Jacob now led her into the drawing room.

He sat her down in a chair by the hearth, and then went to bring Charlotte's mother inside, doing the same for her, before ringing for tea to be brought.

"I'll return as soon as I can, I promise. And I'll let you know as soon as I know anything. It might be wise to consult with your husband's lawyer to ensure the funds are available. But we shouldn't pay anything until we're absolutely certain," Jacob said, and Charlotte's mother nodded.

"Oh, my Lord! How grateful we are to you! My dear husband speaks so highly of you, and your generosity bears out the trust he's placed in you," Charlotte's mother said.

Charlotte, too, was grateful to the earl. He repeated his offer to help, assuring them he would not rest until he had done everything he could to secure Charlotte's father's release.

"I'll see you out," Charlotte said, and she showed the earl into the hallway, where he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it.

"It'll be all right, I promise. They won't hurt him. He's worth too much," Jacob said.

There was some comfort in his words, but it was such an astonishing and unexpected situation. Charlotte did not know what to make of it, or what to do in response. She felt lost and confused.

"I… I just don't understand why anyone would do this," she said, and Jacob shook his head.

"Try not to worry," he replied, but that was easier said than done, and for the rest of the day, after seeing Jacob out, Charlotte and her mother sat with one another, fearing the worst.