Page 27 of Miss Barton's Mysterious Husband
Charmian felt such a roiling mixture of emotions that she couldn’t say exactly what she felt. She was angry. And hurt. But there was regret, too. And much as she didn’t want to admit it, love. Aunt Janet had unarguably done the wrong thing. But she’d acted out of affection, however misguided.
Last night, when Charmian had learned the truth, she’d been livid and ready to banish her aunt from her life. Since then, she’d spent a blissful interval in her beloved husband’s arms and she’d discovered that he still loved her. It was difficult to maintain quite that level of white-hot fury when waves of sexual satisfaction swirled through her.
“I don’t hate you,” she said, sure of that at least.
Her aunt didn’t look reassured. “Perhaps you should. You love him.”
“Yes, I always did.”
“And he loves you. I…I didn’t expect that.”
“No, you thought I’d fallen victim to a fortune hunter.”
“I realized last night what sins your mother and I committed against you. I can only say I’m sorry, Charmian. I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got to give you.”
The apology shouldn’t make any difference. After all, it couldn’t compensate for the misery her aunt had caused. Not just for her, but for Roland, too. Neither of them had deserved to suffer through that purgatory.
Charmian sucked in a breath and surveyed the kitchen. It was a relief to avoid her aunt’s despairing gaze. She could tell that Janet was eaten up with remorse and that she was frantic for forgiveness. She also saw that her aunt was realist enough to recognize that forgiveness wouldn’t come easily, if at all. “You’ve been busy.”
The long oak table groaned under trays ready for baking. Now she took the time to check, she could see that Janet had made a good start on tidying up after last night, too.
Her aunt looked like she wanted to push their awkward conversation further along the road of excuses and apologies, so it took her a few seconds to turn her attention to their surroundings. “I…I couldn’t sleep.”
Janet looked worn and older than her years. She’d also been crying.
Her aunt was the most indomitable woman she knew. Charmian had never seen her shed a tear. She shouldn’t feel responsible for Janet’s turmoil. After all, the woman ought to stew. But that would be easier to say if she didn’t have a lifetime of kindnesses to recall, aside from that one huge, egregious act of treachery.
Janet pointed to a pot on top of the range. “There’s coffee made if you’d like some.”
The scent had teased Charmian since she’d arrived. For the last hours, her emotional troubles had occupied her attention. But standing here, she was aware that she’d had a huge day yesterday, followed by very little sleep. A hot cup of coffee would be welcome. “Thank you. Would you like some?”
“I’m awash with the stuff,” Janet said.
“Yes, but would you like another cup?” Janet’s never-ending fondness for coffee had become a family joke.
Janet’s lips formed a shaky smile before they crumpled. Collapsing into a chair, she covered her face with trembling hands. She started to cry as if her heart was broken.
Stricken, Charmian stared at her aunt. She’d come in here feeling self-righteous and ill-used. It was more difficult to remain convinced of her moral superiority when her aunt sobbed in distress in front of her.
She and her aunt had always been close. Once her brother made his enormous fortune, Janet could have lived a life of luxury. Instead she’d chosen to maintain her independence as a country landlady. Hearing of her youthful romantic disappointment, Charmian couldn’t help wondering if a mistrust of all males lay behind her aunt’s stubborn dedication to going her own way.
“Aunt Janet…” She ventured closer, remembering that she was angry, but unable to bear her aunt’s tears. “Please don’t take on so.”
Her aunt just kept crying, bundling up her loose apron and pressing it to her eyes as she swayed from side to side in an uncontrollable eruption of sorrow.
Charmian wanted to stand on her dignity, but it was impossible when faced with her usually unflappable aunt’s grief. Without making a conscious decision, she found herself on herknees beside the chair with her arm curled around the older woman’s heaving shoulders. “Aunt Janet, it’s all right. It’s all right. Please don’t cry anymore. Please.”
Janet hefted in a shuddering breath and cast Charmian a woebegone glance. “I can’t bear that I’ve done you such harm. I can’t bear that you never want to see me again.”
“I didn’t say that,” Charmian protested, firming her embrace. “We can work everything out.”
Her aunt didn’t seem to hear her. Instead she laid her hand on Charmian’s cheek. “You’ve always been the daughter I never had. It would break my heart if you never forgave me.”
“She forgives you,” Roland said behind her. “Of course she does.”
“Roland…” Charmian turned her head to see him standing in the doorway, his face full of concern as he surveyed the scene before him. “Can you please pour my aunt a cup of coffee? The pot’s on the stove. Just plain black.”
While he prepared her aunt’s drink, Charmian returned her attention to Janet who to her relief wasn’t weeping anymore. She passed her a handkerchief. “Here.”
