Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

AWAKENING

A s they returned to London, Charles noticed Beatrice's apprehension returning. With each turn of the carriage's wheels, the ease that had grown between them in Scotland slowly slipped away. Her gaze remained fixed out the window, her hands clenched in her lap, her thoughts clearly occupied with something worrisome.

"Do you have regrets?" Charles asked carefully as the carriage turned a corner.

Beatrice blinked, and her gaze moved to meet his. Yet it took another moment for comprehension to light up her eyes. "No, of course not. I…" She swallowed, looking down at her clenched hands.

"Is it my family?" Charles inquired, wondering about this sudden change in her. "Or yours?" When she looked up, he smiled at her tentatively.

Beatrice sighed, and her shoulders relaxed, her hands unclenching. "My parents will be furious," she said with a chuckle, shaking her head as though she still could not believe what she had done. "They were quite…" She heaved a deep breath. "They will be furious." Her gaze held his, and Charles thought to see a question there.

"Mine will not," he told her firmly. "Whatever you might be worried about, my family will not be angry. After all, was it not my mother who arranged for us to be married?"

Smiling, Beatrice nodded. "And what of your father?" She paused, regarding him curiously. "He did not know, did he? In advance, I mean."

Charles shook his head. "He did not. But," he held her gaze, "even if he had, he would not have forbidden us. He might have argued against it." Which he had, Charles had to admit, at least to himself. "But he would not have taken this choice out of my hands."

"He can still be angry with you," Beatrice pointed out. Clearly, she was concerned about how she would be received.

"He is not one to hold a grudge," Charles replied with a chuckle. "He will glare at me for a moment, shake his head at me and then move past it. You'll see." Charles could only hope that he was right; after all, such a situation had never arisen before.

When they finally drew to a halt in front of his family's townhouse, Beatrice drew in a sharp breath, for Charles's family was awaiting them on the doorstep. While his parents stood back, their features rather inexpressive, Henry grinned from ear to ear and Lizzie waved at them, her eyes aglow with excitement.

"Everything will be fine," Charles assured his wife, then he alighted from the carriage and held out his hand to her. "I'll be by your side. Always."

A touched smile came to Beatrice's face, and Charles felt the breath lodge in his throat when her hand settled upon his arm. Indeed, she stayed close to his side as they passed through the small gate and then climbed the stairs toward the front door together, the chill in the air seeming to deepen with every step. It had been several weeks since the first frost of the season and yet, day after day, the sky remained gray and still, without even the tiniest snowflake in sight.

"Welcome home!" Lizzie exclaimed as she gazed up at Beatrice. "I always wanted a sister."

Caught off guard, Beatrice stilled, her jaw dropping ever so slightly, and a tremble shot up her arm. "Oh. That is…" She swallowed. "I am so delighted to meet you."

With relief, Charles saw that, while his father did look at him with a touch of disapproval in his gaze, there was a welcoming smile upon his face, nonetheless.

"Come inside," Charles's mother exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. "It is too cold to be doing this out here." She waved them through the door and into the entrance hall. "I'll ring for tea and biscuits."

Before long, they were all seated together in the drawing room, a touch of awkwardness lingering upon the chamber. Beatrice did not seem to know where to direct her gaze or what to say. So, she sat with her head bowed, and lifting her gaze every so often, offered a shy smile.

"We've readied a chamber for you," Charles's mother told his new wife with a smile. "I hope it is to your liking. But please feel free to make any changes you desire." Her smile deepened and received a bit of a teasing quality. "It won't hurt my feelings."

"Thank you," was all Beatrice managed to say, her hands still clenched in her lap.

Into the brief silence that followed, Henry exclaimed, "There will be a Christmas ball a sennight from today."

Charles jerked around to look at his brother, rather disliking the wicked grin upon his face. "A Christmas ball?"

"Yes," Henry replied with amused enthusiasm, ignoring their mother's chiding look. "In your honor." He chuckled. "Back in England for less than a month, and you're already the talk of the Season." He clapped his hands. "I applaud you, big Brother."

"Will you play with me?" Lizzie asked Beatrice abruptly, her eyes round and admiring.

Again, Beatrice's jaw dropped a little, and Charles could tell that she did not quite know what to say, too overwhelmed was she with this new life. Yet before Charles could interfere, his mother spoke once more.

"There will be time for that later, my dear," she told Lizzie, placing her hand upon her daughter's. "Now, though, I suggest," she turned to look at him and Beatrice, "you go speak to your parents. Better to get that done with soon."

Another shiver gripped Beatrice, and Charles could tell that she dreaded the moment of coming face-to-face with her parents yet again. Still, after another cup of tea, they departed once more. Not a word left Beatrice's lips the whole ride there, and Charles wondered what awaited them.

A butler showed them into the drawing room, where Beatrice immediately began to pace, wringing her hands and casting nervous glances at the door. The moment footsteps echoed to their ears, she stilled, her eyes going wide, and she stared at the door as though she were a deer, sensing a hunter closing in.

And then the door flew open, and for a split second, Charles thought Lady Benton would lash out at her daughter, her face red and outrage blazing in her eyes. The moment she spied Charles, though, she pulled to an abrupt halt. Her husband was a step behind her, an equally stunned expression upon his face. "Good… day, Lord Hawthorne."

"Good day, my lady, my lord." Charles offered a respectful nod, then he moved to Beatrice's side. She met his gaze and drew closer to him as well.

Charles knew her movements only showed her need for support, for comfort, and yet Charles's heart soared.

"I apologize for the circumstances of our nuptials," Charles began, his voice steady and calm but insistent, the way his parents spoke when they faced opposition in some form and didn't want to give affront but also to remain steadfast in their position. "I admit I ought to have asked for your blessing beforehand. However, sometimes circumstances prevent us from acting on our best intentions."

Lord and Lady Benton listened quietly, their anger slowly subsiding; their expressions, though, remained tense.

Disapproving.

"We came here today to invite you to the Christmas ball my family is holding in our honor a sennight from today," Charles continued, smiling down at his new bride. "My parents are quite taken with Beatrice." His bride's gaze rose to meet his, and he could see doubt there. "They are eager to welcome her into our family. Hence, the ball."

"Ball? What ball?" exclaimed a young voice before the door was pushed open and a blond-haired girl of about five-years of age burst into the drawing room. Her green eyes were round as she stared at him, her features reminding him of her older sister, standing quietly by his side.

"Francine," Lady Benton exclaimed, "mind your manners."

Charles was delighted to see that the girl cared very little for her mother's rebuke. Instead, she danced toward them and threw herself into Beatrice's arms. "You left without saying a word," the girl complained, the tear-choked tone in her voice making it clear that she had missed her sister dearly these past few days.

"I'm sorry, Frannie," Beatrice assured her sister, hugging her tightly to her chest. "I should have said something."

"Yes, you should have," the sisters' mother agreed in a stern voice, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Beatrice.

"Can I come to the ball?" Francine asked, once again ignoring her mother, her eyes fixed upon Beatrice.

"Of course not," Lady Benton exclaimed in a huff. "Balls are no place for children."

Charles saw tears come to Francine's eyes, and he kneeled down beside the sisters, meeting the girl's gaze. "But we would love for you to come visit us any other time," he told her with a smile, well aware of the relieved expression that came to his wife's face. "Our door is always open to you."

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Francine beamed at him, and Charles could not shake the feeling that he had just made a friend. "Truly?"

"Truly," Charles replied, both sisters' eyes aglow.

By the time Beatrice and Charles said their goodbyes, the expression upon Beatrice's face looked far more relaxed. "Would you care for a stroll?" Charles asked as they ventured down the stairs and stepped toward their waiting carriage. He felt the chill of the air in his lungs; the sharpness of winter had arrived. Still, it was invigorating.

Beatrice, too, breathed in deeply of the cold December air, then she smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, I would."

After instructing the driver to return without them, Charles and Beatrice strolled down the street arm in arm. Indeed, it felt good to be alone with one another again, and for a moment, they simply savored the comfortable silence between them.

"Thank you," Beatrice exclaimed then, turning to look at him. "Thank you for coming with me today. Thank you for inviting Francine. You made her very happy. Me as well."

"She is a wonderful girl," Charles replied, not wishing to be thanked for something that was simply the right thing to do. "So exuberant."

Beatrice laughed. "She can be quite tiresome in her excitement."

Together, they strolled down the street, the cold air chilling their cheeks. Beatrice's hand was warm upon Charles's arm, and he enjoyed the peaceful way they walked arm in arm, no awkwardness between them.

"Look!" Beatrice suddenly exclaimed. "Snow!"

Charles blinked, and truly there were tiny snowflakes swirling through the air above them. Only a handful and rather far apart; still, it had been a long time since Charles had seen snow.

"Your sister will be delighted, will she not?" Beatrice exclaimed with shining eyes. "Let's get back." She pulled on his arm, and Charles allowed himself to be tugged along, a wide smile upon his face.