Chapter Ten

In Which We Mark the Passage of Time and Letters, and Observe a Moment of Stunning Surprise

The late summer heat finally broke a couple of weeks after the dance, and Cherry found herself restricted to the inside of Forest Grange for a few days, as the weather turned downright nasty. Rain, although beneficial to the landscape, wasn’t a welcome feature on a walk.

Oddly enough, this didn’t concern her too much, since she had received, and was enchanted by, her first letter from Garrett, and their correspondence had flourished from that point on.

“Dear Miss Trease…” had become “Dear Miss Cherry…” and she felt deep in her bones that it wouldn’t be too long before they reached a first name basis.

Initially, she’d written the customary sort of letter, mentioning the weather, her activities, a little about the forest (because she simply had to tell him about the irises), and added best wishes to Lady Henrietta.

It had been responded to with a similar missive, filled with information about what was happening at Belcaster and a graceful greeting to Lady Hazel.

The next month, without realising it, the salutations had become personal. It was indeed now “Dear Cherry” and “Dear Garrett”. The letters were sent so regularly that the delivery lads were on a first name basis with the stable hands in both households.

“Dear Cherry,” wrote Garrett barely a month after they’d parted. “I miss you very much, and think of you more than I should…”

“Dear Garrett,” responded Cherry, “I miss you too. Dare I say I dreamed of you last night and was sad to wake…”

And the familiarities grew, leading to more personal revelations.

“Dear Cherry, I confess that for the first time in my life, I am experiencing a strange feeling. As if something is missing, or lost. After due consideration, I believe it might be loneliness. And it is solely because you are not here beside me.”

“Dear Garrett, I also find myself plagued by such feelings these days. I walk into my beloved forest, but it no longer offers the pleasure it used to. I know that pleasure would return had I you beside me, and my hand in yours…”

Cherry read and re-read his letters, carefully smoothing them and putting them into a special drawer, unaware that Garrett was doing much the same thing at his desk.

As the autumn drew closer to winter, the letters grew increasingly emotional.

“My dear Garrett,” began Cherry, pausing to stare out of the window at a rainy and bleak vista. “I find myself a little lost these days. The rain continues, I cannot walk far in these downpours, and to be truthful, the desire to do so isn’t there. Why, might you ask? The answer is simple. You aren’t here.”

As she wrote those words, the recipient was at his desk trying to decide between going over his tenants’ accounts, or writing to Cherry. Shrugging, he picked up his quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and gave in to his own need.

“My sweet Cherry,” he paused, “no. Wrong .” The paper was crumpled and tossed aside. “ She’s a woman, not a fruit, you idiot .”

He tried again. “My darling Cherry,” he took a breath, then continued. “I can no longer ignore my need to see you. I am going to suggest to my mother that we visit Forest Grange before the winter snows set in, so that she might once more have the pleasure of Lady Hazel’s company. And it is unnecessary for me to add that I eagerly anticipate the pleasure of your company as well.”

*~~*~~*

It is not a difficult task to imagine the emotions that sent the recipient of this letter into quietly private raptures. Indeed, dear friend, had you been in Cherry’s situation and received such joyous news, I expect you too would have almost danced from your room to find your Mama and tell her of Garrett’s plans.

And now you must envision a glorious, chilly late autumn afternoon at Forest Grange, where the front doors are open and not only footmen, but Lady Hazel and Miss Cherry Trease, are standing on the steps, awaiting the arrival of a carriage from Belcaster.

If you hear the rattle of its wheels on the gravel, then you’ll know that Cherry’s heart is beating more quickly than ever, her cheeks are slightly flushed, and her mother is doing her best to hide her happiness at her daughter’s behaviour.

Let us eavesdrop for a brief moment…

“It will be delightful to see them again,” said Lady Hazel, her eyes scanning their drive. “And I know you’re looking forward to having Garrett visit…”

“I am,” Cherry turned to her mother. “I think…I think he’s the one , Mama. His letters, they’ve revealed so much of the wonderful man he is…”

“You could not have found anyone better suited, my love. I could see that right away, even if you refused to.”

“I just hope…” she clasped her hands nervously, “that I’m not imagining things.”

“I don’t believe you are, judging by the volume of correspondence you two have exchanged.” She chuckled. “He must have deserted some of his ducal duties to write you, darling. That says something, doesn’t it?”

Cherry blinked. “Wait. What? ”

“Ducal duties.” Her mother glanced at her. “He is the Duke of Belcaster, so I’m sure he has a lot of business matters to attend to.”

Cherry blinked, then gulped, and turned absently as the carriage pulled up.

“Hullooo…” Lady Henrietta leaned out of the window and waved at the two women. “We’re here.”

Ordinarily, Cherry would have been amused at the obvious comment, but at this moment she was still suffering a rather large shock.

Something Garrett was not anticipating, since they had barely stopped the horses when she was stomping down the front steps toward them, her face radiating less than a warm welcome.

He jumped from the carriage onto the gravel drive and held out his arms to her. “Cherry…”

She marched right up to him and stuck her face in his. “Are you a bloody Duke? ”

Silence fell. Even the birds stopped twittering.

Undisturbed by the rather unexpected greeting, he grinned. “Yes, I bloody well am . Will you be my Duchess?”

And, rather sensibly, he did not wait for an answer, but grabbed the irate woman glaring at him, and kissed the life out of her, in front of both their mothers, a couple of grooms doing their best to appear invisible, and four horses who couldn’t give a farthing about the activities of stupid humans.

Is this the end of the story?

Well, almost, because Cherry, when she got her wits back, realised that if Garrett could kiss like that, then she’d be a fool to turn down his proposal. So she said yes, sent both mothers into rapturous fits, and then whisked her new fiancé away from the house, into the gardens.

Few leaves were left, but the sun was still fairly bright, and neither of those things mattered a whit to the couple passionately embracing.

“I love you, Cherry,” whispered Garrett against her lips.

“I love you too, even if you are a duke,” she smiled back. “Just promise that your ducal duties won’t interfere with moments like this, and I’ll be happy.”

“I promise.”

The two ladies, who could just barely see them out of the Summer room window, (where they were both leaning at a rather odd angle), grinned at each other with a great deal of satisfaction. Then sighed identical sighs and returned to their seats to plan the wedding.

THE END