“Perhaps he will, but surely he has not said he has no intention of coming back, has he?”
“He didn’t discuss it. He just said he was going.” She shrugged, feeling somewhat helpless.
“Then have no fear of it for now,” Margaret encouraged her. “Now, come, stand.” She pulled on Charlotte’s hands, urging her off the bed. “Big breath.” Margaret breathed with her, in through their noses and out through their mouths. “And keep that handkerchief with you in case you need it again.”
She pulled on Charlotte’s arm, trying to tow her toward the door.
“Where are we going?” Charlotte resisted, trying to keep her heels in the floorboards and not move a muscle.
“Back downstairs.”
“I can’t face them all after I just shouted at them.”
“My daughter lacking courage? Pah! You’re one of the most courageous people I know.” Margaret smiled at her, full of pride. “Come, Charlotte, you’ll have to face them at some point. It’s better to get it out of the way and done with.”
Margaret at last accomplished pulling Charlotte out of the door. They moved down the corridor together, hand in hand, with Charlotte dabbing at her nose every now and then with the handkerchief. At the top of the stairs, she caught sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror and hesitated long enough to look properly at her face.
Her cheeks were blotchy and red, as though they had reacted to some stinging nettle from all her tears. Her eyes too were red raw, still glistening.
“I look awful,” Charlotte muttered.
“Do you?” Margaret’s face appeared in the reflection behind her. She wrinkled her nose then shook her head. “No, dear. You look human.” Margaret hugged her from behind and Charlotte laid her palm over her mother’s hand on her shoulder.
I do love my mother.
Feeling closer to Margaret than she had felt in a long time, she let her mother draw her down the corridor and to the top of the stairs. They walked down, slowly, though there was no one in the hallway now. As they reached the bottom step, Charlotte could hear murmured voices coming from a nearby room.
“Care to explain, Harry?” David was asking, his voice solemn.
“He started it. He threw my book in the river –” Rose cut in.
“Rose, since when is your name Harry?”
She huffed loudly and judging by the noises of the settee creaking under weight, Rose must have thrown herself down on the nearest rococo settee.
Margaret urged Charlotte not to say a word yet with a finger to her lips. They crept nearer to the door, the better to listen to the conversation.
“Harry, you have been picking a fight with everyone you can. You’ve caused trouble for Charlotte, knowing what would rile her, and you seem most particularly interested in teasing Rose. What is going on?” David asked again.
Charlotte peered around the doorframe to see their father standing by the mantelpiece, his arms folded. David was sat on a nearby chair, his face solemn and his hands fidgeting together.
“I…” Harry started, then hesitated. David urged him on with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want to go.”
“Go where?” David asked.
“To university.” Harry’s answer made Rose sit up straight in alarm off the settee. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be away from you all,” Harry added quickly now.
“I see. And you decided to show your love for us all by lashing out?” David said, wincing and clearly not seeing the sense in this behavior.
“I thought you might tell me I didn’t have to go if I made enough trouble.”
“Harry.” David sighed and sat on a nearby footstool, facing his son with a kindly smile. “For starters, you have some years left before you have to go to university.”
“You talked of it recently!” Harry reminded him hurriedly. “You said you wanted me to go to Oxford or Cambridge.”
“You don’t have to.” David shook his head. “Harry, your life is yours to do with it as you like. If you decide you don’t want to go to university, then that’s fine, but I will say this. Don’t make a decision either way yet. By the time you get to being eighteen, you may be as tired of us all as Charlotte is and be quite happy to get away for a while.”
Charlotte made an involuntary squeak in the doorway at her name. Her father looked up and to her surprise, there was no trace of anger in his face. He stood from the footstool and patted Harry warmly on the shoulder, then he walked toward Charlotte in the doorway and pulled her into a warm embrace.
