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Guilt.
Mind-numbing guilt.
That’s what Alexander felt, all the way into his soul.
The pained expression on Charlotte's face – knowing it was his fault.
She would blame him; he was certain of it. The recrimination would be vocal and loud. She would not hold back – he was certain this time.
“I do love you, don’t forget that, don’t ever forget,” he stated fiercely. “Tell me you believe me? Please… tell me… promise me you believe me?”
“I believe you,” she barely whispered, knowing he was about to leave her. It wasn’t fair… why did it have to be this way…
“I have to… I…”
“I know, you have to go. I know…” she almost sobbed.
“Charlotte please… don’t cry. I don’t know if I could bear it… I love you.”
“I know,” she replied, leaning into his hand that he had placed on her cheek as he tried to stem the flow of tears that coursed down her cheek with his thumb.
He pulled away… he had to. He couldn’t stay, “Don’t ever forget,” he repeated again, and waited until she nodded before he escaped the torture.
He left with such a blur of panic.
What if that was the last time he would speak to her…
He somehow found his way to Hannibal, his trusty steed. The surefootedness that he so badly craved when he no longer trusted his own two legs.
And so, he found himself once again, sitting high in the saddle as his horse careened along the flat open expanse of the sand. Close to the shoreline where the sand was firmer and safer for the speed in which he knew Hannibal desired so much. He rarely was allowed his head these days and he could tell his friend was enjoying the freedom.
Oh, to be allowed the freedoms that one so desperately wanted.
Rules… Alexander hated so many of societies rules…
Despite the fact that he was merely a passenger, he found the exhaustion of hanging on for dear life as Hannibal galloped along - physically and mentally challenging.
He eventually pulled gently back on the reins, easing his mount to a slow jog and then to a walk. Alexander directed him into the deeper, dry sand towards a rocky outcrop before dismounting and climbing onto the rocks to stare out to the sea.
To contemplate.
To contemplate how life had come to this.
He prayed Charlotte would remember his words of love. Hang on to them in her time of need now they were apart.
If only he could have been with her… to hold her… whisper those words softly in her ear.
I love you, don’t ever forget…
But he could not.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had seen her.
He hadn’t taken any notice of the hour and anyway, it was too early to return to Heyrick Park yet. They did not know where he had gone, so he was free to sit and stew in his guilt for as long as he wanted.
Not that it was productive – wallowing.
He tried to focus on all the good things they had shared.
That was it, he thought. Try and push the pain, the missteps, the angry words from his mind.
Daydreaming was something very much not encouraged in his youth, but he was the master now, so be damned – if he wanted to wile away some time with happy thoughts, he would.
There was no one there to tell him otherwise.
Hannibal snuffled and nuzzled at his arm and Alexander realised that the sun was starting to dip lower on the horizon and the tide was beginning to creep in. Perhaps it was time to go home, well at least leave the beach before the tide encroached too far and he was stranded.
That would not do.
Heading home, he dismounted again as he crossed one of the fields with a large patch of cornflowers growing stoically – as if daring any other grass or weed to push them out of their existence. He picked a handful, knowing they to be her favourite. They would act as a physical reminder to him, something tactile, of the day he realised he was falling in love with her.
He needed to hold on to that feeling tightly.
Eventually arriving back at Heyrick, he pondered that he was probably close to the time for dinner. He left Hannibal with his stable hand and headed for the main house. He would need to clean up and change quickly. He knew how much Mrs. Wheatley expected adherence to routine, no matter the circumstances.
He opened the door through the back entrance of the house, as it was closer to the stables, and found his housekeeper greeting him in the doorway to the kitchen from the hall as he crossed the threshold.
A smile spread across her face as he entered.
“Ah… perfect timing I see, Xander.”
He looked around and could see Cook still in the preparation of the evening meal.
“So…?”
“Yes, perfect timing,” she continued to nod.
“I’ll… I will just go upstairs then,” he replied calmly.
She looked up and down at his dishevelled state.
“I would suggest that is a fine idea,” she replied with a raised eyebrow.
He managed to walk calmly through the kitchen and down the hall, but by the time he had reached the stairs, any trace of calm completely evaporated and he took the stairs two… and at one point three at a time, almost tripping over the top as he hit the landing.
He marched down the hallway, focused on his task before dinner.
He swung the door of his room open wildly, almost bouncing it off its hinges and he thought he might have even heard the crack of timber, before he just…
Stopped.
“Oh, such an entrance my love,” Charlotte gasped with a wide smile, looking at him standing in the doorway. “You almost gave us a scare.”
His breath caught – he was transfixed.
“Ohh… shoosh, shoosh… Papa didn’t mean to scare you,” she cooed gently, as the wail that greeted his entry to the room stopped instantly at the sound of her voice.
She looked back to her husband still unmoved in the doorway.
“I did not forget you loved me… Come, my love… come and meet our daughter…”