Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Thirteen
The question of what to present to the Royal Society remained unanswered in Charlie’s mind. He wasn’t well-versed enough in Budan’s theorem to expound on that. He was deeply intrigued by the law of quadratic reciprocity but hadn’t anything new to add to the topic. He’d hoped to further study Euclidean geometry at Cambridge, as he was convinced its principles were not the only ones at work in the universe no matter the general consensus. That last would make an excellent topic for lecture, but he couldn’t prove anything nor speak with a great deal of authority.
This was an opportunity he dared not waste. It could be a means of reclaiming a little of what he’d had to give up. And yet, that was not what hung heaviest on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Artemis.
“He never looked at me or spoke to me.”
“He never said my name.”
Charlie could hardly imagine a father completely ignoring his child and doing so for the entirety of her life. He’d been unsure what to do while she’d shared such personal pain and recollections. Had she needed an arm around her shoulders or a hug? He’d settled for holding her hand, hoping it would help. After a time, she’d rallied. And she’d stayed in the bookroom for a while afterward, reading and perusing her fashion plates.
Had he done the right thing? They didn’t love each other, and this marriage had not been their choice, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be unhappy.
Now, with only the light of his candle breaking the dark of the bookroom, his mind refused to make sense of anything. Not mathematics. Certainly not the lady he was married to.
He took up the letters Giles had delivered to him earlier that day but which he’d not yet had time to even glance at. Letters in one hand, candleholder in the other, he made his way back to his bedchamber. None of his clothes were so fashionably close fitting that he needed a valet to help him undress. He could simply strip down to his small clothes and climb into bed when he was ready.
Light spilled through the ajar door of the circular sitting room, precisely the amount one would expect from a candle. Charlie moved to the door and peered inside.
Artemis was seated on the sofa, her legs up beside her, just as she’d sat in the bookroom. She held a folded handkerchief in her hands, which rested on her lap. Her gaze was on the bit of linen, and what he could see of her expression was deeply sad. Heartbroken, even.
Charlie’s heart dropped to his toes. He hadn’t caused this, had he?
“Artemis?”
She didn’t look up. He knew she wasn’t asleep.
What was he meant to do? He didn’t know what was causing her distress. He certainly didn’t know how to fix it.
What would you do, Father? There was, of course, no answer. He was on his own, muddling through life, as always.
He crossed to her, pausing just long enough to set his candle and the letters on the side table next to the sofa before sitting beside her. “Is something the matter?”
“Nothing I can’t sort out.” Her usual tone of defiance felt forced. She had often frustrated him with her playacting and insincerity. Seeing that mask crack, though, was not the satisfying experience he would have expected.
“Not much can be said for me, but I am generally considered a good listener,” he said.
“I suspect I have forced you to listen to more already today than you’d prefer.” She shrugged a shoulder and tipped her chin at an arrogant angle.
Not once in the last two years had Charlie expected he would ever feel empathy for Miss Shamcaster.
“I am sorry about how you were treated,” he said. “A father is someone who ought to . . . ought to be there when you need him.”
Eyes still on her handkerchief, a bit of linen that appeared to have seen better days, she asked, “Was yours?”
He seldom spoke of his father, almost never, in fact. But he felt in his bones that she needed him to. She needed to know that her difficult feelings about her father were something others could empathize with.
“My father died when I was seven years old,” he said. “So, no, he has not been around when I’ve needed him. I suspect, though, if he had remained alive, he would have been.”
“I wonder sometimes which is more difficult: missing the kindnesses one once had or mourning the tender moments that never were.”
How easily she could have been describing the last thirteen years of his life. “I’ve wondered that myself.”
She took a slow, deep breath. It was the sort of thing one did when hoping to retain one’s composure. “Did you enjoy your mathematics?”
“I always enjoy mathematics.”
She shook her head. “You are a strange person, Charlie Jonquil.”
“Yes, but a strange person with letters.” He reached over to the table and took up the stack. “And two of them are for you.”
Eagerness entered her expression. He was glad of it. Seeing her so downcast weighed heavily on him.
He set her letters in her hands.
“Daria,” she said, eyeing the first. “And Nia,” she said about the second. She looked at him briefly. “Two of the Huntresses.”
“Ah.”
She bent over her letters, so he turned his attention to the one addressed to him in Mater’s familiar handwriting. He flipped it over and broke the seal.
It was a single sheet of parchment written on one side only. A brief letter, then. That was a bit disappointing.
He read silently.
My dearest Charlie,
I realize you are only just settling into your new life and home, but I fear I must disrupt. While it will seem an oddity to you, and I will confess it is unusual, your father’s will requires that all you boys and your families come to Lampton Park for the reading of its final portion. He was very specific about this.
Though the reason for this gathering is perhaps not the happiest, I am so pleased at the possibility of seeing all my boys again, and you in particular, Charlie. I look forward to hearing how you are progressing with your marriage and the life you are building.
Come as soon as you are able, with plans to stay until all of you are able to arrive and these matters can be seen to.
All my love,
Mater
She anticipated hearing a good report from him, reassurances that all was going well. He and Artemis were not much better off than they had been when last Mater had seen them. They spent most of their time ignoring each other. When they weren’t isolated, they were generally arguing. And now and then, they had moments of companionable peace, like they’d had today.
And on the back lawn during their game of catch us, catch us. Heaven knew he’d thought about that moment many times. He imagined himself touching her soft curls again, putting his arm around her. He couldn’t shake the idea, and he couldn’t deny that it was far more appealing each time he pondered the possibility.
But even that bit of encouragement didn’t change the reality of their situation. His struggling marriage would be subject to direct comparison with the loving and successful families his brothers were building. Fleeting moments of not wanting to strangle each other would not pass muster at Lampton Park.
Charlie couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Mater. And his brothers would alternate between teasing him mercilessly and offering mountains of unsolicited advice. He didn’t care for the possibility of either one.
“Is something the matter?” Artemis asked.
“We are being summoned to Lampton Park, something to do with my father’s will.” He couldn’t reconcile that part of it. Father had been gone for thirteen years. How could any aspect of his will be read and enforced only now?
“Will very many people be there?” She gave no indication of what she hoped the answer would be.
“My entire family,” he said. “And I know them well enough to be certain they will not bother to hide their curiosity about the two of us.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke again. “What are we to do? I suspect neither of us wishes to be scrutinized.”
He could think of only one answer. “The same thing your brother-in-law told us to do in London”—once more mimicking the duke’s voice—“we will undertake a required bit of playacting.”
“We’re going to lie to your family?”
He hated that her evaluation wasn’t entirely an exaggeration. “I propose we call a truce between the two of us while we’re there. We’ll make a show of being on friendly terms and, in so doing, avoid the awkwardness we would endure otherwise.”
In other words, yes, he silently added. We are going to lie to every last one of them.
