Fic: A Summer in Devonshire

[beatrice_otter]

ficinabox revealed the authors, er, several weeks ago. But I was too caught up with yuletide to remember to post what I wrote! So here it is. I had great fun writing this crossover between Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, where Charlotte gets a better life than canon. As I was pondering how to logically get Brandon and Charlotte to meet even though they live so far apart, it occurred to me that Sir John Middleton and Sir William Lucas are very similar people and would probably get along amazingly well. (The other easy way to do it would be to set it earlier in both canons, when William Lucas (not yet Sir William) is a prosperous tradesman, probably with business connections in London, and Colonel Brandon has just been handed custody of his dead beloved's child and is trying to figure out frantically what to do with her, before he has to go back to his regiment in India or wherever. I can easily see him marrying then to give her a mother, and if he somehow became acquainted with the Lucases while in London, might find Charlotte just the ticket.)

As I was writing this story, I found myself thinking more about the Lucas finances and so on than I ever had before, and coming to some conclusions that made me feel sorrier for poor Charlotte than ever. You see, the question is, where did Sir William come up with the money to buy an estate? Estates are expensive, especially in Hertfordshire, which is very desirable because it is both good farmland and close to London. This is in the period when lots of families were making fortunes in trade and then buying estates to make themselves gentlemen, so there is high demand. I'm sure he sold his business, and that provided some of the capital needed, but would it have been able to provide all the capital needed? Even for a small estate? Quite possibly not. So where did he get the rest of the money? Then it hit me: the common wisdom was that men should save about 20% of their income every year to provide for their wife and children. The widow's jointure, the daughters' dowries, the boys education and start in a profession (for the younger sons). That would be a sizeable chunk of money. So it's quite possible that the purchase of Lucas Lodge and the accompanying grounds made Charlotte less marriageable, because while it inflated her class status (she's now the daughter of a gentleman!) it also wiped out much of her dowry. I didn't actually use that idea in this story, but it informed my thinking as I was plotting it.

Title: A Summer in Devonshire
Fandom: Sense & Sensibility/Pride & Prejudice
Characters: Colonel Brandon/Charlotte Lucas
Author: Beatrice_Otter
Written for: hiddencait in Fic In A Box 2025
Summary: Sir John Middleton was happy to invite his friend Sir William Lucas and family to stay at Barton for the summer. Charlotte is happy to travel, and to meet new people.


AN: Neither Meryton nor Barton are real places, though we are told that Barton is four miles from Exeter. According to google maps, it is about 190 miles from Hertfordshire (where Meryton is located) to Exeter (where Barton is located). (Of course this depends on what part of the shire Meryton is—Google Maps estimates from the middle.) Carriages can travel between 10-30 miles a day, depending on the state of the roads and how much weight is in the carriage. (For comparison: a human being in good physical condition on a good road, who doesn't have to carry a heavy load, can reliably hike 20 miles a day. A fast horse with a single rider can go 30-50 miles in a day, if they don't have to carry much baggage.) You can go faster if you switch out horses, but then you run into the fact that riding in a carriage for that long is exhausting and jolting and unpleasant. Four people plus their luggage would be a decent load, and you can't assume the roads would always be good, so let's say 15-20 miles a day for a carriage ride. That is ten days at 20 miles/day, twelve days at 15 miles/day, and 19 days if you are only making ten miles/day. So yeah. Of course you would stop and see all the tourist stuff along the way. From Devon to London is about 175 miles. So when they all go to London in Sense and Sensibility, the trip probably took at least 9 days one way. Colonel Brandon, otoh, going hell-for-leather to find Eliza after abandoning the party, probably got there in four or five days.

In the 18th and 19th Century, men and women wore stockings that went higher than the knee and were secured with garters tied around the leg at the knee. So taking off your stockings to wade in the water is something that would be best done in private unless you wanted to give someone a show as you hiked up your dress.
***

Sir William Lucas had never aspired to visit St. James' Court, nor indeed to become a knight; he had been content with his life as a respectable (and prosperous) tradesman. When such an opportunity had been granted him, all unexpectedly, he had been so overcome with all the honor of it that he had not been able to savor the pleasures thereof. Given his humble antecedents and employment, very few in that place took any notice of him, and those who did cared more to practice their superiority than form any connection. It was an experience more pleasurable in the telling, for he spent many congenial hours describing the grandeur of the court and its people to his acquaintances in Meryton, as he and Lady Lucas took their place as one of four-and-twenty families of good breeding in the neighborhood.

It also spurred his desire to trade his business for an estate more suitable to his new dignity, for being Sir William of any estate (however small) would occasion less comment than Sir William, tradesman of a small market town.

That being accomplished, he settled in quite happily to being a landed gentleman, and would never have stirred from Meryton again if Lady Lucas had not possessed the ambition her husband lacked; she, with a keen eye to the prospects of her children, encouraged her husband to make all the use of his new rank that he could. When he protested that London was expensive and they could certainly not afford a house, even for a short time, Lady Lucas found an acquaintance in London who would be eager to host a knight—even one so new and insignificant as Sir William—for the honor of having him attend dinners and the theater in their party.

The second time Sir William visited St. James', he made some few acquaintances who were willing to correspond with him and (so Lady Lucas hoped) proffer invitations to visit. Most of these came to nothing; the one firm connection Sir William made was not at St. James itself but at a rather more humble establishment. In a card party given by mutual acquaintances, Sir William made up a fourth at a table with a Sir John Middleton of Devonshire.

Sir John was lately married, and even more lately made a knight, but unlike Sir William, he had inherited a fine estate in Devonshire that had been the family seat for so many generations they had forgotten how that came to be. But despite the disparities in their birth, they shared a temperament that made them welcome in any place desiring sincere good humor.

Sir John was kind, generous to a fault, loved a good joke, and was eager for company over any other thing. He had experience and training in how to run an estate, and was happy to instruct others who desired it. He enjoyed field sports and made friends everywhere he went. He was, in short, all that Sir William aspired to be.

Sir John was not immune to the flattery of having an older man, his equal in rank if not in family or fortune, hang on his good opinion. And for all that Sir William had given up his business, he knew a great deal more of that world than Sir John ever would, and Sir John had also inherited other interests beside his estate that Sir William's opinions could only improve his management of.

By the time the two men returned to their respective homes to supervise the spring planting, they were fast friends, and Sir John had extended an offer to host the Lucases for the summer. "Bring all of them," he said heartily. "I love children, and Lady Middleton is always speaking of how wonderful children are."

This was only partly true; Lady Middleton had but recently had the great joy of presenting her lord and husband with a son, hoped for another very soon, and meditated often upon the future that must thereafter unfold. Her interest in the children of other people was largely left to suitable compliments to their mothers when they were presented, scrubbed and dressed in their best, to make their bows to guests. But Sir John liked children for their own sake.

Lady Lucas, when the invitation was conveyed to her, was not so confident as her husband that Sir John had accurately perceived his wife's opinions, and that plus the expense of transporting all their children—for they would have to hire a second carriage—was sufficient that she convinced her husband to bring only the two eldest. A distance of two hundred and fifty miles from the young ones was not too great a separation to be borne, when they had such an excellent nurse and servants. Only the two eldest, Charlotte, just turned twenty, and Thomas, the heir, who was seventeen, would get much value out of it; surely there would be later amusements for the young ones, especially if the friendship was maintained.

Thus it was that, one fine day in early summer, the carriage rolled out of Lucas Lodge with but four occupants, and turned south. To Devonshire, they were to go.

***

Charlotte's enthusiasm for the trip had been raised to such heights that it was almost impossible that the delights of it should equal her imagination. She had never been further than ten miles from Meryton; while Thomas had been to London, on occasion, those had been business trips, and not deemed of any interest to the ladies. But here they were, traveling over two hundred miles, on a pleasure trip in easy stages.

The first day's travel took them to London, of course, where they stayed with former business associates of Sir William, and went to the theater in the evening and spent the next day studying the curiosities of the British Museum. From there, they saw Old Sarum and Salisbury Cathedral, the great standing stones of Stonehenge, Longleat House, and Bath, where they stayed several days. Then on to Wells Cathedral, Glastonbury Tor, and finally their destination. Charlotte recorded as much detail as she could in her diary every night, and filled pages and pages with sketches; unless she found a husband in Devonshire, this would probably be the only such trip she ever made, and she was determined to fix as many things as possible into her memory.

After all that, Barton Park was almost a let-down. Certainly, it was a finer house than anything in Meryton; but the difference between it and Longbourn was not so very great, and Charlotte had spent many happy hours in the latter house, owing to the long friendship between her mother and Mrs. Bennet.

Still, there was novelty in residing in such a great house … and unlike in Meryton, nobody here had known her when she was merely the daughter of a tradesman; nobody here would feel resentful of her abrupt rise in social status.

***

The first morning after their arrival, Sir John led Sir William and Thomas out to explore the countryside while the ladies sat and sewed indoors. Charlotte was embroidering some fabric she meant to make into a reticule.

"And do you play, Miss Lucas?" Lady Middleton asked. Sir John had assured her many times that his new friend was a perfectly gentleman-like man, despite his origins, and that his family would be, as well, but that lady had suffered some anxiety over the matter and hoped that her guests would not embarrass her before her neighbors. "We shall be having some of our neighbors for dinner, the Bradley, and Miss Bradley and Miss Jane Bradley are both very skilled—Miss Jane Bradley is our local virtuoso on the pianoforte, and Miss Bradley prefers the violin."

"I do not play any instruments," Charlotte said placidly. She had been raised to be a tradesman's wife, and help in the business, and had very few of the fashionable accomplishments of a lady. While she might regret the lack, and the necessity of exposing it before Lady Middleton, she had long resigned herself to it. "If Miss Jane Bradley will consent to accompany me, however, I should be very pleased to sing. I have just learnt a new song, 'Ach, ich fühl's, es ist verschwunden' from The Magic Flute."

"I am sure she will be delighted," Lady Middleton said. "They are such dear girls, and so accomplished! But neither has much of a voice, I am afraid. It is their one lack. They are only lately home from school, and I wonder that they did not have better masters there."

"Anyone with a teacher and time to practice can learn an instrument," Lady Lucas said. "If one has no talent, still dedication can make up the lack. But the voice is not so; if the instrument God gave you is not sufficiently fine, no amount of practice will make it so. Charlotte has a particularly fine voice, I have always thought."

Charlotte kept her eyes on her embroidery. She had a nice voice, but there were many ladies who could say the same; while she appreciated her mother's praise, it was folly to raise expectations too high when they would all soon hear the truth.

"You do have very fine stitches," Lady Middleton said, admiring Charlotte's work.

"Thank you, ma'am," Charlotte said.

"And an eye for composition—it is very balanced. Do you draw?"

"Only a little," Charlotte said. "My skills are sufficient for my own amusement."

"My dear Lottie, how can you be so hard on yourself?" Lady Lucas said. "You worked so hard on those sketches on our travel." Although a wish to establish her daughter's credit as a fine young lady accounted for part of her words, and a lack of training on her own part accounted for yet more, still there was also a true affection for her daughter that could not believe that anything she worked at so diligently could be anything other than excellent.

"Perhaps you can show me your sketchbook, Miss Lottie," Lady Middleton said. "Drawing was one of my favorite subjects at school."

"Of course, if you wish it," Charlotte said, staying as absorbed in her work as she possibly could. Lady Middleton was a woman of fashion and Charlotte suspected she asked not because of a genuine interest in art, but to evaluate Charlotte's accomplishments. And while Charlotte had indeed worked hard on her sketches, and enjoyed herself immensely in the process, a trained eye would certainly see that she had not the benefit of a master's tuition. She was better at buildings than people, but even there, her proportions were never quite correct. "But I would be more interested in seeing your work, ma'am, for I am sure your skill must be at least equal to your taste."

Lady Middleton demurred, but with a pleased air about her. "Oh! I am sure I do not know where my sketchbook is, for I have been ever so busy since my marriage; and as a mother, you know, I have not the time that younger girls do to spend upon my pleasures."

Lady Lucas made consoling noises, though from what they had seen thus far, Lady Middleton only saw her young son briefly, when the nurse brought him in, and her time was not greatly troubled by him.

The rest of the morning passed in similar fashion. Lady Middleton made gentle probes into her guests' accomplishments, connections, and taste. Lady Lucas implied Charlotte was a more accomplished young lady than was warranted. Charlotte tried to turn the conversation to Lady Middleton's own skills, as she had never met anyone who disliked speaking of themselves.

But once Lady Middleton was satisfied that her guests were, despite their humble origins, of sufficient gentility to make acceptable company, the conversation foundered. She delighted in music, she assured them, but she had no opinions upon it, and the instrument had only been touched by guests since her marriage. She knew little of the running of the estate or its history, and cared less. She was not a reader, either of novels or of newspapers. She prided herself on keeping a good table, and could name the most frequent guests her husband invited, but could say little about them beyond their accomplishments and their manners. Lady Middleton was most pleased when they complimented her son, but as they had only seen the child once, and then but briefly, this was not a rich vein of conversation.

At last, Lady Lucas gave up on finding a topic of equal interest and filled the rest of the morning with talk of what they had seen on their journey. Lady Middleton was content enough to listen, giving occasional comments about what she had seen in person, and even suggesting a visit to Exeter Cathedral, to compare to others they had seen along the way.

Charlotte was pleased; it was no hardship to sit in this pleasant room, doing her needlework and reminiscing of the joys of their tour. If Lady Middleton was not an engaging conversationalist, she was still well-bred, polite, and kept an excellent table. As a guest, Charlotte had no fear of being sent to mind the children, nor of being required to help with the domestic labor.

***

A few days later, the Middletons hosted a garden party to introduce the neighborhood to the Lucases, and the Lucases to the neighborhood.

The Bradleys were the first to arrive. Charlotte had met the two Miss Bradleys at dinner their second night at Barton Park. The three girls wandered off to enjoy the gardens while waiting for the rest of the guests.

Mary and Jane Bradley were both very pretty girls, fashionably dressed. Though Charlotte had no need to blush for her own gown and hat, still she regretted her plain features.

The Miss Bradleys were amiable enough and with a very little prompting were quite happy to hold forth on the families, fortunes, manners, and appearance of everyone who was expected that day, with rather more understanding than Lady Middleton had shown.

"Mister Wooton is a bit of a rake," Miss Jane said.

"Hush, now, Jane, that is not true," Miss Bradley said. "You are only severe upon him because he broke your heart last summer."

"And you are only permissive because he has not yet broken yours," Miss Jane retorted. She turned to Charlotte. "He's broken half the hearts of the ladies of Devonshire one after another, these last two years—and broken worse than that with tradesmen's daughters, if what Mrs. Jennings says is true."

Miss Bradley made a rude noise. "Mrs. Jennings is an old busy-body."

"But seldom wrong," her sister said. "She is Lady Middleton's mother, and makes it her business to know about every love affair in the shire, and get good husbands for every pretty girl, when she visits."

Charlotte nodded. Such a woman would be an invaluable resource, if she could be made to view Charlotte as a project. Charlotte was painfully aware that she had little to recommend herself; her dowry was pitiful, she had no useful connections, no accomplishments, and with her face she was hardly likely to make a man fall deeply enough in love with her to marry her anyway. At age twenty, being an unmarried daughter of a gentleman was pleasant enough; she had no illusions that she would find it so congenial at thirty or forty.

"At any rate, it does not matter how handsome or charming Mr. Wooton is, for he has no money," Miss Bradley said. "He is good company, and has enough friends and relations that he is always welcome at someone or others' house—here in Barton, it is his cousins the Hodgsons—but he cannot support a wife." She spoke without regret, for while she enjoyed Wooten's company, her heart had never been engaged.

"And yet he will flirt as if he means something," Miss Jane said.

"I will be on my guard," Charlotte said. "Will the Hodgsons be here?"

"Mr. Hodgson will be, for he is always riding about the country, and will take any excuse for it," Miss Jane said. "But Mrs. Hodgson is sickly and cross, and seldom stirs from their home."

"For which we are all grateful," Miss Bradley murmured.

There followed quick descriptions of several other families whom Charlotte noted but did not much mark; married couples either too old or too young to have grown children of interest as either prospective friends or prospective husbands.

Then came the people of greatest interest to the girls: the single people their own age. The Miss Fernsbys were the particular friends of the Miss Bradleys, for they had all been at school together. Miss Corbin was fun when she could be separated from her mama, but turned into a mouse under that lady's gimlet eye. Miss Pritchard was sweet but rather stupid; Miss Martha Pritchard was beautiful and sharp-tempered. Mr. James Slater was the heir to his estate, but had no interest in anything but cards and horse racing, to his mother's despair as she was inclined to Methodism; his younger brother Paul had gone to London to apprentice with a relation who was a barrister, and was now home for the first time in four years. Miss Anne Gastrell, daughter of the vicar of Barton, was a noted beauty of the region, and famed as well for her accomplishments and her charm. She was expected to marry well, for her company was always much sought after. The Miss Bradleys could not decide if she was as sweet as she seemed, or merely sly and artful. Her brother had finished at Oxford and was home until he could find a position as curate somewhere or other, or, even better, a living. Colonel Brandon had lately inherited his family estate after the death of his brother, and it would be a fine estate if he could repair the neglect of many years, but was not now worth much. Also, there was some scandal, of whose details they were uncertain, except that Brandon's elder brother had been divorced and embittered by it.

However different Barton might be from Meryton, there was one thing the two neighborhoods had in common, Charlotte realized as she listened: too few eligible gentlemen for the number of ladies.

***

It was a fine day for a ride, and Brandon had always been a man comfortable with his own thoughts. The company of others who knew just enough of one's family and history to judge without enough for understanding only strengthened the appeal of solitude. Yet he had found that his brother's ill temper and mismanagement, along with vague memories of the colonel's own youthful exuberance, had done a great deal to soften whatever ill feelings there might be, and Sir John's warm regard had done the rest. He was little troubled by the gossip he had feared when first he came home from the army.

Upon arriving at Barton Park, he was greeted by a hearty handshake from Sir John and a restrained curtsey from Lady Middleton, before Sir John took him off to meet Sir John's new friends, whom Brandon had high hopes of.

Sir John and Colonel Brandon were not very much alike. Sir John was not a man of great thought or understanding, nor a man of deep feelings as Brandon was. But Sir John was a kind man, and generous to a fault, and his life had taught Brandon to value these qualities higher than almost any other. It was these qualities that Sir John had praised in Sir William, and so Brandon was pleased to make his acquaintance.

"Ah, Colonel, Sir John has told me all about you," Sir William said. "A very great pleasure to make your acquaintance." He presented his wife and son, and glanced around to find his daughter. "I don't know where Charlotte has got to, but she's around here somewhere."

"She is with the Miss Bradleys and their friends," Lady Lucas said. "Just over there—the one in the green sprigged muslin."

Brandon turned, and identified the only young lady in the group that he did not already know. She was an ordinary sort of girl, with little to distinguish her from the others. She smiled at something and made a comment, and he liked how her face became animated at whatever the joke was. "I will be happy to make her acquaintance," he said.

It had been quite a shock, and a wearying one, to find himself the target of hopeful matchmakers. Given what his poor dear Eliza had suffered in her guardians' pursuit of her marriage and fortune, his views on the stratagems others used to secure a match were rather less charitable than that of society. Still, the girls themselves were usually pleasant and good company, as long as he took care not to raise any expectations.

"I am sure she will be happy to make yours, Colonel," Lady Lucas said.

"I see the lawn is set up for trucco," Brandon said. "Have the teams been chosen, yet? What shall we play to, fifteen points or twenty-one?" This led to a spirited discussion amongst the gentlemen until the last expected guests had arrived, at which point the game began.

While a few ladies joined the game, Charlotte chose instead to sit on a blanket and watch. She cheered enthusiastically with the other girls and exchanged pleasantries about the weather and what fine spirit the players were showing. The Miss Bradleys and the Miss Fernsbys soon began reminiscing about their time together at school. It was pleasant enough to listen to, and Charlotte did not think they were intentionally excluding her.

After the first match finished, there was a break for refreshments and conversation. Most of the unmarried men came over to sit near the girls Charlotte was sitting with, but not all. James Slater was playing with Sir John's dogs, and Miss Gastrell went over to play with them, too. Mr. Wooten sat next to Miss Pritchard, whose sister Martha then moved to join them. From the set of her face, Charlotte rather thought she came more to guard her sister than from any pleasure in speaking with Mr. Wooten. Paul Slater sat beside Miss Jane Fernsby, and thus Charlotte was close enough to speak with him. He seemed pleasant enough, but all his attention was on Jane.

There were a few other young men who joined them, whom the Miss Bradleys had not mentioned, but Charlotte soon found out why; all were younger sons with no inheritance and nothing yet in the way of a profession or trade. Several of them were nice enough, but none could support a wife. Charlotte would have been happy enough to speak with any amiable gentleman, eligible or not, but she had neither the fortune nor the face to be interesting to such men, and they largely gravitated to whichever of the young ladies they were partial to.

Miss Corbin sat next to Charlotte; she had made one or two remarks earlier, but fallen silent.

With no one to speak to, Charlotte watched the rest of the party. Lady Lucas was deep in conversation with Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. Slater. Sir William had been sitting alone during the match, but Colonel Brandon had joined him afterwards; the two seemed to be content with each other's company. Thomas and Sir John had joined the party with the dogs. Lady Middleton sat quietly on a bench, surrounded by her guests, but saying little.

Sir John soon began to chivvy people into another round of trucco, and most of the players stood up to resume their game. It left Charlotte with a dilemma, for if she stayed, she would have the opportunity of speaking more with the girls she was sitting with. But although they had welcomed her cordially enough, they were content with the friendships they already had, and Charlotte was weary of conversations about people and events she had no knowledge of.

Colonel Brandon, she noted, was not standing to continue the game. Sir John saw this, and came to speak with him and Sir William; he left them with a laugh and a wave, and went on to others who might more easily be persuaded.

However much disarray Brandon's estate of Delaford might be in, he would still be able to support a wife and family; for that alone, he was worth speaking to, though Charlotte had no illusions that he would be easy to catch. Of more immediate import, if she joined her father and the Colonel, her father would see that she was included in the conversation. She might do more than simply listen to others talk, and that would materially add to the pleasures of the morning.

Her father, she noted, did not have a glass of punch. Brandon had one; he had gotten it before sitting down, and the servants had been circulating among the players, during the break. Charlotte stood and gave her empty glass to a passing servant, securing two others, and walked over to her father.

"I thought you might be thirsty." She handed Sir William a glass and sat down beside him on the blanket.

"How thoughtful, you are, my dear Charlotte," her father said. "I was indeed. Thank you. Colonel Brandon, I do not believe you were introduced to my daughter earlier. Charlotte, this is Colonel Brandon, who is the master of Delaford and a very good friend of Sir John. Brandon, this is Charlotte, my eldest, and a very good girl she is. Very attentive and practical."

That was not the compliment most girls aspired to, Charlotte reflected, but she did not mind the honesty of it. Better than trying to claim attributes which all could see were false. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel," she said.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Lucas," Brandon replied. "I see you have been making friends—Sir John's parties are excellent places to meet people."

"I have been making acquaintances," Charlotte said. "It will take time to make them into friends—and that might not be possible in such a large company."

"How so?" Sir William said. "Is this not a perfect gathering of young people? Are they not gracious and kind?"

"They are very pleasant girls," Charlotte said, "but they already know each other, and there are several firm friendships that do not, as yet, admit a newcomer. The Miss Bradleys and the Miss Fernsbys went to school together and so far this morning have been mostly engaged in reminiscing about it."

"Do you wish you had gone to school?" Brandon asked.

"It would not have inclined them to me unless I had been to school with them," Charlotte said. "If I had gone to school, I would be a great deal more accomplished than I am now, and that would be a benefit to me and to my family. But a governess or tutors would have achieved much the same result." While there might have been money for a tutor before her father had sold his business and sunk all his money into buying an estate, there certainly was not enough now to fund such an expense. If there had been, putting any such money into the five percents for a dowry would probably be more effective.

"Then you are happy you did not go to school?" Brandon asked. "Surely, it is a great experience for any young woman."

"You have an interest in ladies' education, Colonel?" Sir William said.

"I have a ward, the daughter of a distant relation, who has been at school since she was very young," Brandon said. "Being without a wife, I could not care for her myself. The establishment she was raised at closed, due to the ill health of the proprietress, and so I found her a new school. It came very highly recommended, but Eliza is not happy there. She has asked to come and live with me, now that I have a permanent home instead of merely following wherever my regiment is stationed. But surely, school will be a better place for her to grow into a young lady than the home of a bachelor."

"I have seen several young ladies of my acquaintance blossom into fine young women while away at school," Charlotte said. "Certainly the young ladies here are fond of their school. But I have also seen it break girls—turn them hard, or mean, or snobbish, or scared."

"Surely that is too harsh, Charlotte," Sir William protested.

"I speak as I find, father," Charlotte replied. "You cannot deny that Miss Turner is not the same since she returned; the other girls were very cruel to her, and the mistress of the school did not check them."

Sir William sighed. He wished to think well of all, but he could not deny that Miss Turner was now very much more timid than she had been as a girl. "Still, she has only been home from school a short time, and I am sure she will recover her spirits, with good country air and the company of her friends."

Colonel Brandon listened to this with some alarm; his decision to send Eliza to school came from a sincere desire for her welfare. She would wish to marry, eventually, and surely a school would be the best place to prepare her for that, as well as preparing her for a larger society than could be found in Delaford. Her plaintive letters he had been sympathetic to, but he had been assured by many people of the new school's excellent reputation. He had assumed that meant there could be nothing of substance in Eliza's unhappiness.

"How long has your ward been at this new school?" Charlotte asked.

"But three months," Brandon replied.

"Then it is probably too soon to tell whether she is merely homesick, or if there is something truly wrong," Charlotte said. "Unless there is something amiss."

"What sort of things should I be looking for?" Brandon asked.

"I have never been to school," Charlotte said, "I have but little experience of them." She considered what she had heard, from the girls in Meryton who had gone to school, especially Miss Turner. "There is a difference," she said thoughtfully, "between a girl who is lonely because she is in a new place and has not had time to make friends, and a girl who is lonely because she is treated badly. If I were her guardian, I would ask leading questions about the other girls and the teachers in my letters, to see how they treat her, and if they are the sort of ladies you would like her to grow up to be."

"Thank you," Brandon said. "I am glad of your wisdom." The army had taught him the value of both knowledge and action; he was happy to be given a direction that would enable him to gather the knowledge needed to make informed decisions about Eliza's welfare and future.

"Charlotte is always very attentive to the people around her," Sir William said. "You do not often see such understanding in a girl so young."

Charlotte was twenty, and had been out in society for several years; she did not think she was as young as her father seemed to think her. But there was no harm in his comment, and she let it pass.

"Indeed not," Brandon said.

"Miss Lucas!" Charlotte looked up at Miss Fernsby, who had come over with Miss Martha Pritchard. "You are very sly, to leave our group without saying a word. I did not know you were acquainted with the colonel." With the younger, more active men returned to the game, Colonel Brandon's estate made him well worth cultivating, and Charlotte's presence was an excellent excuse to sit near him.

"I was not," Charlotte said. "I came to sit by my father." There was no need for introductions, for of course Brandon knew both of the girls from prior parties at Barton Park.

"You looked very deep in conversation," Miss Martha said. "I was sorry to interrupt. May I enquire about the subject you found so engrossing?"

"We were speaking of finishing schools for young ladies," Charlotte said.

"My dear Miss Lucas, I thought you had never been to school?" Miss Fernsby said.

"I have not."

"Well! If you are interested in ladies' education, Colonel, perhaps you should hear from someone who has actually received it." Miss Fernsby proceeded to tell several stories that were amusing, but not very informative.

Had she been a more perceptive girl, she might have realized that only Sir William listened with interest. Charlotte and Miss Martha turned to watch the game; Colonel Brandon listened only because she was directly addressing him, but his attention was more engaged by Miss Lucas' words than by Miss Fernsby's stories of parlor games and gossiping with friends when they should have been studying.

In a suitable break in the stories, Miss Martha asked Colonel Brandon's opinion of the game, and the conversation turned to subjects more agreeable to all.

***

Lunch was served on tables on the lawn, and at so informal a gathering people were expected to find their own seats. Charlotte went over with the bulk of the young people. A very little effort got her seated by Paul Slater, with Miss Gastrell across from him and Miss Corbin on Paul's other side. An older married woman Charlotte had not been introduced to sat next to her, with one of the younger sons, whose name Charlotte could not remember, across from her. Miss Fernsby sat across from Charlotte.

The young Mr. Slater was the gentleman Charlotte was most interested in. He was of an age to marry, with a profession that would support a family; he might well be willing to overlook the size of her dowry, to be able to say that his father-in-law was a knight; surely, that would be a help in his legal work. And, from what she had gathered during the morning's games, he was courteous and sober; it would be no hardship to be his wife.

"Pray, tell me about your work, Mr. Slater," Charlotte said during a lull in the conversation. "I confess, I have had no contact with the law, other than attending card parties given by Mr. Philips, the local attorney; I am quite curious."

Mr. Slater sighed. "I am afraid you would find it boring, Miss Lucas; I certainly do. But it is respectable and if one must have a profession, it is better than being a clergyman." He turned to Miss Gastrell. "I am sure you would agree that a house in London is an infinitely better domicile than a country vicarage."

"I cannot say, for I have never been to London," Miss Gastrell said. "But I am sure there are far more amusements there than here."

"I certainly found it so, when we stayed there," Charlotte said. "I am looking forward to our next visit."

"I am sure you would find the theater thrilling, Miss Gastrell," said Mr. Slater. He then proceeded to regale the table with the play he had seen most recently.

Charlotte kept her face pleasant, and contributed to the conversation when she could, but Mr. Slater's attention was quite firmly fixed on Miss Gastrell. After a while, Charlotte turned to speak with the lady on her other side. But that lady, a Mrs. Lambert, was more interested in encouraging her son to take Mr. Slater's example and choose the law as his profession, than in speaking with Charlotte.

***

When he returned home from Barton Park, Brandon went into his study and brought out the seven letters that he had received from Eliza in the three months she had been at Mrs. Gray's school. When he had first received them, he had noted her unhappiness and felt sorrow at it, but thought it temporary. He, after all, had been miserable when he was sent into the Army—a deeper wretchedness than Eliza's current loneliness. He had not only been far from home and friends, he had also known that his beloved was suffering dreadfully. But he had learned to love the army; he had made friends; he had learned to accomplish the duties and tasks set before him, and take pride in his men. He had learned to—not forget his beloved's suffering, but to set his mind on the things he could change, rather than things he could not.

Mrs. Gray's school, he had thought, would be a place Eliza could grow to maturity in the same way he had in his regiment.

Miss Lucas' words had upset that comfortable certainty.

He re-read the letters, this time with an eye for anything not quite right.

There was nothing clearly wrong; if there had been, he would have seen it the first time he read them. Still, there were things that, upon closer inspection, he did not quite like. Things that other girls had said to her that were cruel, or shallow; ways the headmistress favored some girls above others. It occurred to him that Eliza, who had been living in that establishment for a quarter of a year, would know the character of those within it to a far greater degree than people who had merely corresponded with Mrs. Gray and checked her references, or seen her former pupils display their accomplishments.

He had not replied to Eliza's latest letter; there was a sheet half-filled with encouragements and platitudes, which seemed to him inadequate, and he cast it into the grate to be burned the next time there was a fire lit there.

He took out a new sheet of paper, and considered the best way to ask his questions. If this was merely homesickness and loneliness, he did not wish to encourage her to think meanly of the proprietress and the other pupils. But if there was something not right, he needed to know it.

***

The Lucases were all happy with their visit. Sir John had a large estate, the funds to match, and a desire to use those funds for the entertainment of his guests and neighbors. Sir William's vanity had been gratified by the deference showed him by Sir John's neighbors, and his good humor encouraged and gratified by Sir John's hospitality. Lady Lucas found Lady Middleton a trifle dull in her own right, but excellent at facilitating others at her parties to connect with those they might enjoyably converse with, and Lady Lucas was determined to learn the secret of it. Thomas was wild with all the riding and sports he had played, and had become fast friends with James Slater, which Lady Lucas hoped could be used to encourage a match between Mr. Slater and Charlotte. Charlotte had not made any particular friends in the neighborhood of Barton, but she had no particular friends in Meryton, either—and there were far more pleasure excursions here than at home.

Charlotte was learning, however, that although she had looked forward to the leisure afforded a guest in a great house, there came a point at which idleness turned to boredom, and though she had not reached that point, she could see that it would come.

On the morning of a long-awaited picnic to the River Creedy, Lady Lucas attempted to advise Charlotte on the ways to encourage James Slater's attentions. Charlotte listened dutifully, but without much hope as to its efficacy.

"I shall do my best, mama," she said.

"I am sure you shall," replied her mother.

That conversation was much on her mind when, during the heat of the day, Miss Pritchard suggested the ladies might wade in the river, as the gentlemen were already doing.

"I should dearly love to, if we go down the river where they cannot see us," Miss Corbin replied.

"But why should we be so missish?" Jane Fernsby cried. "Surely if we stick to the edges of the water and do not go very deep, there can be no harm in it, no impropriety."

"How do you intend to take your stockings off?" Charlotte asked. "Or do you intend to get them wet and muddy?"

"We could take off our shoes and stockings behind a bush," Jane Bradley said.

This answered all the practical objections, and the girls walked off to find a sufficiently large bush or grove to allow them to remove their garters and stockings without exposing themselves.

Once they all had bare feet, they walked down to the river. The two Janes were arm-in-arm, and Charlotte noted their mischievous smiles as they talked quietly.

Charlotte joined Miss Corbin and linked arms with her. "I shall enjoy the river, I think, but it is not so hot a day that I need do more than sit on the bank and dip my feet in it."

"Oh! Yes," said Miss Corbin with some relief. "That will answer excellently. And of course there will be a breeze off the water, which will help still more. I do not mean to be missish, you know, but my mother will not think it right to splash about where the gentlemen can see us."

Not for the first time, Charlotte appreciated her own mother, who, though attentive to the proprieties, was not strict enough that Charlotte need ever fear her disapproval over innocent amusements. "Given that the other girls will be wading more deeply, I doubt your mother will notice that you have taken off your shoes and stockings."

"I do hope so," Miss Corbin said. "She is so very strict about my behavior around gentlemen."

Charlotte thought that if a glimpse of a woman's ankles were enough to inflame a man's heart with lust, peasant girls and working women would dress rather differently; their gowns usually only reached the calf, and when working in the fields would be girded up still higher. That a farm girl could show her knees without a second thought but a lady must be careful not to expose her ankles was one of the more ridiculous things society decreed. But she was too practical to worry about it much.

Because there were ladies present, the gentlemen were still at least half-dressed, splashing each other and wrestling.

Charlotte and Miss Corbin sat on the banks and dipped their feet in the water. It was indeed cooler here, and the water was pleasant. So was the view; the gentlemen were very entertaining in their play.

Miss Pritchard joined Charlotte and Miss Corbin on the bank, but the rest of the girls waded into the water.

The two Janes waded out furthest, until they were standing in water up to their knees, gowns held up out of the water. Charlotte was not surprised when their coy glances at the gentlemen turned rapidly to an exchange of taunts with Paul Slater, and then to strategic splashing that left both girls—gowned in the new fashion for white muslin—with their clothes clinging to them rather more than was proper.

"That is one way to cool off," Charlotte said. "And their gowns will be very easily washed."

Miss Pritchard laughed. Miss Corbin shook her head.

Charlotte was unsurprised when Mrs. Fernsby came down to scold the young ladies and chivvy them out of the water and back up the hill to where the older people were sitting and drinking punch.

"Why should we have to leave?" Miss Pritchard said. "We have not done anything wrong."

"They'll be serving lunch soon, in any case," Charlotte said.

Colonel Brandon was among the gentlemen cooling themselves in the river; he had done so many times with his regiment, although of course in the regiment they would have stripped naked to swim. It was a pleasant way to pass a day, made even more so by the young ladies joining them. He had watched the byplay with some amusement; Jane Fernsby had no need of such stratagems to attract Paul Slater, though young Slater had certainly appreciated them. If the two were not wed by summer's end, Brandon would be very much surprised.

He sat on the bank to dry a bit before putting his boots and jacket back on and going up to where the refreshments were laid up. It was a glorious day, though it looked like there would be rain on the morrow.

Paul Slater and Charles Wooten made a variety of lewd jokes about the way the young misses gowns clung to them when wet, and what a girl that did such things would be like in the marital bed. Brandon could not think such talk harmless; it sprang from the same impulses that had led to his poor Eliza's ruin and disgrace.

"Though he may prefer Miss Gastrell, eh?" said one of the young bucks.

"Chance would be a fine thing," Paul said with a laugh. "She's more interested in James—and best of luck to her, for she'll need it."

Brandon decided he was dry enough and set himself to rights as well as he could under the circumstances. He walked up the path to where luncheon was spread on blankets under a fine stand of trees. There was an empty spot near Miss Lucas, and he took it; she welcomed him politely and offered him a plate full of meat pies.

"How was the river, Colonel?" Charlotte asked.

"Very nice, thank you," Brandon said. "You did not join the other girls wading."

"Miss Corbin's mother is very strict," Charlotte said, "and I wished to keep her company. Also, I did not wish to make a display of myself."

"You do not wish to catch the eye of a gentleman?" Brandon asked, in some surprise, for he had noted that she was as attentive to the eligible gentlemen as any of the other unmarried ladies in the party.

"Not in that way," Charlotte said. "I have long observed that such obvious flirtation is only effective if the lady is already considered attractive by the gentlemen she is trying to attract. Otherwise, she opens herself to scorn."

Brandon considered his own experiences. "I had not thought of that, but you are right."

"I have no illusions as to my allure, Colonel," Charlotte said. "I am no beauty, I have little fortune, I have no accomplishments, and few connections. I must be more careful than those girls whom men are drawn to." She took no pleasure in this recitation, but she had known each of these facts long enough to be used to them.

"You are too harsh in your judgments, surely," Brandon said.

"Which of my statements do you disagree with?"

Brandon could not dispute them individually, and yet he felt they did her too little credit. "Such a bare recitation does little to credit your true nature. You are sensible, kind, practical, and attentive to the people around you; you would make any man an excellent wife."

"Thank you, Colonel, that is very kind," Charlotte said. She had not thought he esteemed her that highly; although he was always courteous, he avoided the unmarried ladies, including herself. Surely the master of the second most prominent estate in the country could have found a wife by now if he desired one. Perhaps she should spend more time with him. "But few men rank kindness and practicality highly, in their picture of the ideal wife; and for those that do, there are many women who possess those things who are also accomplished or beautiful or wealthy or well-connected."

To that, Brandon had no answer. Charlotte dearly wished to know whether he might ever consider her good character enough to overcome her other deficiencies, but could think of no way to ask it that would not be obvious.

***

It rained for the next several days, and Brandon set himself to work diligently at his accounts, and at the decisions his steward brought before him. He had not been trained to such work, for of course his brother would inherit, and his years with his regiment had not prepared him for it. Even when his regiment had been in England, he had spent no time on such estates and knew little of their rhythms. He could have left all to his steward, but that had been no small part of the reason for the estate's current disarray, for his brother's steward had been better at flattery than farming. The new steward was much better, but still Brandon wanted to know what all was being done on his lands, and what decisions there were to be made. Sir John and their other neighbors had been most kind in their advice, but there was no substitute for experience.

It was very unlike his regiment, and yet there were similarities; then, as now, knowing the personalities of those beneath him and their capabilities, and arranging things accordingly, was half the battle.

Still, he was glad for an excuse to set his books and maps aside when the day's post brought a letter from little Eliza.

That happiness did not last long once he read it.

***

Once the rain had broken, the usual round of engagements had resumed. Colonel Brandon, knowing his duty as one of the principal landowners of the neighborhood, hosted the next party at Delaford. Neither the house nor the grounds were in the state he would wish; everything was clean and orderly, with as much elegance as his housekeeper could manage, but it would be some time before the estate's income was equal to the repairs and modernizations which would bring it to its full potential.

"No, don't be too hard on yourself, Brandon," Sir John said, when Brandon mentioned his misgivings. "There is work to be done, to be sure, but the bones of the place are very good, and of course everyone knows that you are a much superior master for the place. Let us see what needs doing, eh?"

The Middletons and their guests had come over two days before the festivities, and would be staying at Delaford for a week before returning to Barton Park. This would give Sir John an opportunity to see how things progressed, and instruct Brandon and Sir William in the management of an estate; it would also allow Lady Middleton to act as hostess, for Colonel Brandon had neither a wife nor a female relation he wished to give such power over his home.

Lady Middleton was of two minds on the matter; she was proud of her skills as a hostess and was gratified by the honor that Colonel Brandon was paying to her taste and her plans. But she was also an indolent woman by nature, and hosting a party in a house which was not her own, and whose staff she had not the usual management of, would require more work than she really would prefer.

Fortunately for Lady Middleton, the Lucases were also invited, and if Lady Lucas and her daughter had less experience with entertaining on so grand a scale, they had greater energy and were perfectly willing to be Lady Middleton's agents. Thus it was that Lady Middleton was able to sit in the parlor at Delaford with as much idleness as she would have had at Barton, while Lady Lucas and Charlotte supervised the servants in their work.

Charlotte welcomed the work; much as she was enjoying their summer in Devonshire, she was used to rather more activity than Barton Park allowed, and had great satisfaction in seeing the results of her work at Delaford. In addition, though the men were out touring the estate and she did not see Colonel Brandon all day, the time in his house with his servants gave her much to think on.

Certainly, she had known from the first that only a simpleton would not court his notice, and, if possible, secure him; he was a man of rank and position, with an estate that would one day be quite fine. More than that, he was a gentleman in habit as well as in his antecedents, and a lady married to him need not fear ill use. And she had come to respect and like him, for he listened when she spoke, he was kind, he was thoughtful, and he valued her gifts. Spending time with him was a pleasure in its own right.

But she had only known him when he was a guest in another's house, and men sometimes showed one face in public and another in private. Here she could listen to the servants as they worked and question them about their master's habits.

"We were all relieved to find Colonel Brandon not much like his brother," said one of the maids, as she brought in an armful of flowers for Charlotte to arrange. "He never yells, like the old master did, or throw things, or take his temper out on anyone. He expects a lot of hard work, but he'll notice and praise it when you've done it, instead of taking things for granted."

"His brother wouldn't notice if things weren't done quite right," one of the other maids said. "Or if he did, he'd blame the wrong person. The Colonel has a keen eye, and if something's wrong, he'll know whose fault it is … but he's very reasonable about accidents and things you couldn't help."

"He's a good master, then," Charlotte said.

"We all think so, ma'am," the first maid said. She curtseyed and left to be about her work.

Charlotte was not surprised to hear it, for it accorded well with what she already knew of the man, but it was good to hear that he was still a reasonable, gentlemanly man even with those entirely under his power.

***

That night at dinner, Colonel Brandon was a genial host, but it fell to Sir John and Sir William to carry the conversation. After dinner, when the men joined the ladies in the drawing room, he smiled but withdrew to a table with paper and pen to write letters.

Lady Middleton was content to sit drowsily on the sofa. Lady Lucas asked for a game of whist, which her husband, son, and Sir John were happy to oblige.

This left Charlotte unemployed. She went to sit by Colonel Brandon, which may have been her mother's design in asking for a game which could not accommodate all present.

"You are very pensive tonight, Colonel," Charlotte said. "I hope nothing is amiss."

"Miss Lucas, I would value your thoughts," Colonel Brandon said. "I wrote to my ward, asking her for more details about her new school. This was her reply."

Charlotte took the letter Brandon held out. The penmanship was excellent. Even crossed to fit more lines onto the page, it was clearly legible. She read it, considering the descriptions of the other girls and the teachers. "I do not think that I would wish to live in such a house," she said at last.

"Nor I," Brandon admitted. "I shall have to find another, I suppose."

Charlotte considered the letter again, this time studying it for clues as to its author's character. "You said this was her second school. How old is she?"

"Twelve," Brandon said. "She has been at school most of her life, as I had no home to bring her to."

"That is full young to be at school even now," Charlotte said in some surprise. "I had imagined her older. Why, she cannot know much of the world outside of school; she has never lived in a home with a family, never participated in society even as a child. Even in the best school, that is very poor preparation for life."

"I cannot bring her to live with me here, I am a bachelor," Brandon protested.

"You could hire a governess," Charlotte said. "Or you could marry." She was careful to keep her voice even, and cast no meaningful glances his way; he retreated whenever flirtation was aimed at him, and she rather thought that part of his respect for her was that she did not attempt it with him.

"There would be talk," Brandon said. Everyone in the area had known of the scandal that caused her mother's divorce; it could hardly be hushed up. Whether Miss Lucas had heard the old gossip, and connected his ward with that unhappy time, he did not know. "She would be assumed to be a natural child—either mine, or my brother's." Or perhaps someone would guess the truth.

"And you think there is not talk now?" Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "She has no family, only a guardian of no apparent relation to her who put her in school from infancy. Regardless of the truth of her parentage, people are often quick to believe the worst; it is a common enough story, you know. The difference is, she now bears the brunt of such gossip alone. If you were to bring her here, you would share it—though it would still fall mostly on her, of course. But you are one of the principal landowners in this neighborhood, and on good terms with the rest. Everyone wants to be on good terms with you; if you did not wish such talk to trouble your ward, she would be much better shielded from it here than anywhere else in England."

"I suppose that is so," Brandon said with some reluctance. "But there is no lady I love well enough to marry." There had been, once; having known such passion, he had never thought of marriage again. Any woman would only be second in his heart to his poor dead Eliza, and what sort of trick was that to play on a woman?

"Is love a requirement for marriage then, in your understanding?"

"Yes," Brandon said. "I have seen the misery that is caused without it. My brother married without love, you know; his wife loved another, in her youth, and the family convinced her to marry him anyway." There had been much else that was ill-done in that marriage, to be sure, but the want of love had been no small part of it.

"And yet I have seen passionate love sink into indifference and disdain," Charlotte said. She had only been five when her mother's dearest friend had married Mr. Bennet, but she remembered it, and though she had not been old enough to understand what was happening as their relationship soured, she had been old enough to note it. "I do not know the details of your brother's marriage, of course, but … you yourself said her heart was engaged elsewhere, and she was persuaded against her will. That is not the same as marrying for practical reasons, to a person of your own choosing, surely."

"Perhaps," Colonel Brandon said. "It seems to work for many people. But I do not know that I should find it congenial." He paused. "And, having once loved … very deeply, I do not know that I should be a fit husband to a woman whom I did not love."

Charlotte considered this. "I do not agree, Colonel, for you are a considerate man, a gentleman in every possible sense of the word. You would treat a wife with respect, whether you loved her or not; you would not expose her to scandal; you would not use her ill; you would not make her an object of scorn. I think there are many ladies who would find you a congenial husband, whether or not you loved them."

It occurred to Brandon that he was speaking with one such lady. He had thought since inheriting Delaford that any woman who wanted to marry him, if she were not in love, would think solely of the privilege of being mistress of a fine estate. The women who had set their caps at him had done nothing to dissuade that assumption. And surely Miss Lucas of all women was not discounting the material advantages of his position. But while he knew her to be desirous of a good marriage with any eligible man she could get, he also believed that she genuinely liked and respected him, as he liked and respected her. That, when she said he would be a congenial husband to the right lady, she meant he would be a congenial husband for her, in his own right, without considering his estate.

"I thank you for the compliment," he said in some confusion, and cast about for some way to turn the conversation to less fraught matters.

Charlotte watched him thoughtfully. "Of course, if you do not wish to marry, you may remain a bachelor all your life. You could hire a governess for your ward, or you could find a family to place her with, or another school. You have many choices." That was the privilege of being a gentleman, she thought but did not say.

"You have given me a great deal to think about," Brandon said.

"I hope I have been of help to you."

"You have."

***

The next day, Brandon had no chance to ruminate on Miss Lucas's words, for as host he must always be looking out for his guests. If Miss Lucas was one of those guests, she was one of many; he was not derelict in his duties if he did not seek her out.

Still he felt her eyes on him, and wondered what she was thinking.

Charlotte, for her part, had lain awake much of the night wondering if she had pushed him too far, if he would avoid her from now on as he had for the rest of the evening. He certainly did not seek her company the next day. Still, if she had not spoken honestly about her feelings toward marriage, she would have regretted it; she would always have wondered if a slight push in the direction of matrimony might have carried the day. Now it only remained to see what the fruits of that conversation would be; he could ignore her when the house was full of guests, but he could not, in courtesy, do so when everyone else had left.

There was but little conversation in the drawing room that evening; all were tired after such a long day, and Brandon in particular was eager for the solitude of his own rooms.

The day's pleasant conversation had brought him no closer to knowledge of his own thoughts. Young Eliza must be his first and truest care; that had not changed. He had thought, briefly, when she had first become his charge, that he must marry and provide her with a mother; but then he had not wanted her to call anyone else by that title, and the wandering life of an officer following his regiment would hardly be good for so young a child—for he had been to India, and to the Americas, and to even when in England he had nothing but temporary lodgings. Besides, he had had no heart for marriage after seeing what had become of his own dear Eliza, and scarce funds to afford a wife. He had decided at last that if he were to fall in love again, well and good; if not, there was nothing that could entice him to the altar. Having discarded the possibility of marriage, and found a reasonable situation for his ward, his opinions had little changed in the decade following.

But his situation had. Instead of a rootless army man, with no ties to anyone or anything save to his ward, he was now a gentleman of property, a leader in his community. He would live out the rest of his life here in Devonshire. He had a home to offer young Eliza. There would be talk, but if Charlotte was right and she had already been exposed to speculation, surely it would be better if she were where he could shield her and defend her, at least a little, from it; and surely her mother would have preferred her to live in a home, with a family who loved her, instead of at school where she must be at the mercy of any student who wished to tease her.

Yes, he should remove her from school and bring her here, and trust to his own care rather than that of strangers.

But how to do the thing. Miss Lucas had suggested a governess, and that would be simple; but yet he wondered. In the years since Eliza's death, his heart had only been lightly touched by any woman. He knew himself, knew he was unlikely to experience such a grand passion again—and yet she was right, that many people were quite content with marriages that were not based on passion at all.

What good, after all, had such feeling ever done him or anyone else he knew? He could not think his love for Eliza wrong; that was the best thing in his life, and if they had not been discovered and separated, if they had succeeded in eloping, he was quite sure they would have been happy together for the rest of their lives, whatever else might have happened.

But that was over, and would never come again. And, looking forward into the future, he found he did not desire for things to continue on as they were.

Brandon was … not lonely, exactly, for he had many friends, and the work of restoring the estate was engaging. Yet the evenings by himself were long, and the solitude was wearying. Bringing Eliza home and engaging a governess for her would fill some of the quiet, yet he wondered if that would be enough, for a warm, active girl such as Eliza was.

He had reacted very strongly, he realized, to a commonplace suggestion. Certainly, Miss Lucas was far from the first person to say that he should marry, for one reason or another, and usually he rebuffed the recommendation gently and turned the conversation, and thought no more on it.

This time, however, he had shared a bit of his heart, and his history. Certainly, it was because he liked and trusted Miss Lucas; but he wondered if there might be more. He was not in love with her, but he realized he could imagine her here as mistress of Delaford. He could imagine living with her for the rest of his life. Brandon liked talking with her; she was intelligent and thoughtful. If she had not the accomplishments one would normally expect of a gentlewoman, she had very ably done the work Lady Middleton was too idle to do, and a willingness to work might be a better prospect in a wife, given the amount still to be done in Delaford.

His life would be enriched by having her in it, he thought, and wondered: was he seriously considering proposing marriage?

Brandon made no decisions that night, but he had much to consider

***

Charlotte was much relieved, the next day, to find Colonel Brandon no longer ignoring her; indeed, although he spent much time out on the estate with Sir John and her father and brother, when the gentlemen and ladies were together, he invariably chose to sit by her.

"The Colonel seems quite taken with you," said Lady Lucas the next day at breakfast. The gentlemen were already out, and Lady Middleton had not yet come down.

"He is quite attentive," Charlotte said with a smile. They had not talked of anything of import, and yet it was a pleasure to converse with him. Even leaving aside Delaford, he was the most congenial man she knew.

"This is an opportunity not to be missed," Lady Lucas said. "I hope you are taking every effort to secure him."

"I am very well aware of that, Mother," Charlotte said. "Yet I think that he does not like girls who flirt—certainly, he is very practiced at ignoring such attentions. I have … hinted that I would be very pleased with any attention he would deign to give me, but I do not know how much more I could say or do without frightening him off."

"Hm." Lady Lucas considered this, and nodded. "I think you are right, my dear; I trust your judgment."

She did, however, hint to her husband that he should take every opportunity to sing his daughter's praises. As Sir William was an affectionate father, this was an easy thing for him to do.

***

Colonel Brandon noted with amusement that Sir William had taken to bringing up his daughter's many virtues whenever possible; Sir John, amiable man that he was, was only too happy to join in praising her as a very good sort of girl. More welcome to him was the way that everyone, except Lady Middleton who did not seem to have noticed, found reasons to leave him and Charlotte to talk.

"I think your parents have hopes," he said to her after a particularly transparent excuse left the two of them the only ones not engaged in a game on the other side of the drawing room.

"You are right," Charlotte said. "They love me, and know that I like you, and hope that you like me. They are not subtle, but they act only out of love."

"We talked about love, passionate love between a man and a woman," Brandon said. "Yet there are other types of love, no less important or real."

"There are indeed," Charlotte said. "I do not believe my parents were ever in the romantic sort of love, and yet our household was warm and full of care. They are very well suited to each other, and happy with the life they have built."

"Is that the sort of life you would aspire to?" Brandon asked.

"It is," Charlotte said. "Although that depends on securing a husband who would be the kind of man one could build a life such as theirs with." She was young, yet, and although she had many years before she would be on the shelf, she would grow no wealthier or more beautiful in that time.

Colonel Brandon was quiet. Charlotte kept her eyes lowered, out of maidenly modesty, but also out of fear of what she might see in his eyes, if she met them.

"I think that would be a very good life," Brandon said at last. "And I think that we two together could build such a life, if you would do me the honor of being my wife."

Charlotte's breath caught. She had not truly dared to hope! "That would give me every joy, Colonel." She smiled at him, and reached out to clasp his hand.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, and kissed it.


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