Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Twenty-Seven
All the brothers and their wives, Crispin and his wife, Arabella and her husband, the Gents, and Mater were gathered in the drawing room, according to the instructions left behind by Father, for the reading of the final portion of his will. The Jonquils were seldom together without laughter and jests and general merriment, but this occasion was a solemn one.
Charlie sat beside Artemis, doing his utmost not to look too closely at any of his family members. His emotions were proving exceptionally raw, and he knew if he saw the same grief in any of their faces, he would lose his composure.
Mr. Layton stood in front of them all, beneath the family portrait, a twine-tied packet in his hands. The room sat silent as he dropped his gaze to it and began to read what was written on the wrapping parchment. “Upon my youngest son either reaching his majority or marrying, whichever should occur first, this packet is to be opened by the executor of my estate, Digby Layton, in the presence of my beloved Julia, my sons Philip, Layton, Corbin, Jason, Stanley, Harold, and Charlie, their wives, if any, Crispin Handle and his wife, should he be married, Arabella Hampton and her husband, should she be married, and the Gents.”
Mr. Layton was managing the thing with unwavering dignity and focus. Charlie found he could keep his attention on that gentleman without worrying about his own composure.
The twine was untied and the packet opened. It contained a stack of letters tied together with a ribbon, what appeared to be a leatherbound book, and a folded missive consisting of several pages.
“It is addressed to me,” Mr. Layton said, “with the instruction to read what he has written.”
He, of course, was Father.
It is my hope that I am writing a letter that will never be read, but I remember all too well my father’s description of how he felt in the months before his passing, symptoms which matched my grandfather’s in the months before he left this world, and I am feeling those same things myself. I cannot be ignorant of what is soon to befall me.
At the point this will be read to all of you, my boys, Crispin, of course, included in their number, will be grown and most, if not all of them, married. My sweet little Arabella likely will be as well. I wish I were there. I wish I were with you all.
Father’s words. His actual thoughts and words. It was almost too much to bear. Charlie dropped his eyes to his hands, trying to keep his emotions in check.
I am struggling with the realization that I will miss so much. I will not be afforded the opportunity to meet my new daughters and Arabella’s beloved, to hold my grandchildren. I will not sit with you, Julia, amidst the chaos I can so easily imagine, drinking in the beauty of the family we have created together.
And so, I have endeavored to write out those things I feel in my heart I would wish to say to each of you.
Digby, I have asked so much of you already, but I must ask one thing more. Please distribute the letters herein to those to whom they are addressed, along with reading the very brief notes included below. Thank you, my loyal friend. Thank you for so very many things.
With all my love to each of you,
Your friend,
Your father,
Your husband,
Lucas
Charlie swallowed thickly. He hadn’t known what to expect from that days’ proceedings, but something this personal and emotional had not been anywhere near the forefront of his mind. His brothers were likely a bit emotional as well. Mater most certainly was, but Charlie didn’t look over at her. He could not endure that sight. So he looked to Mr. Layton, avoiding even the briefest glance at anyone else.
“You are all instructed to leave your letters unopened until all have been distributed and I read to you the last bit of direction on this page.” He crossed to where Philip sat, Sorrel at his side.
“This letter,” he held up a single missive, “I am instructed to give to Julia without identifying its recipient to the group.” He handed it to her. “He asks that you deliver the letter when doing so can be accomplished with the needed degree of privacy.”
Mr. Layton then crossed to Philip.
“‘To my eldest, Philip,’” Mr. Layton read from his paper. “‘You carry quite a burden now, a title and lands and the well-being of this family, but I haven’t any doubt that you will carry it well. I’m proud of you.’”
Charlie had to look away as Mr. Layton handed a letter to Philip because the tears in his brother’s eyes were too much to endure.
“‘To Crispin, whom I consider a son,’” the distribution continued. “‘Your home life has been far from ideal, but your presence in our home has been a blessing to us. Please allow Mater to serve as a source of advice as you build your own family. She will be able to guide you to do so in a way that shakes off the painful examples of your own childhood.’
“‘To my son Layton. Yours is a compassionate and caring nature, a trait you owe very much to your mother. Just as I treasure that in her, I treasure it in you.’
“‘To my son Corbin. We live in a world that too often discounts the strength of a quiet and loyal heart. Do not allow yourself to believe that. You have depths of strength and goodness that will serve you well all your life if you can learn to value them.’
“‘To my son Jason. You are an unwavering port in a storm, with a firm and abiding sense of right and wrong and an admirable dedication to the cause of the vulnerable. I admire that in you and hope you value that in yourself.’”
Charlie was a small boy when these messages were written. Father would have known so little of him he’d likely not have much to say.
“‘To my son Stanley. You dedicate yourself so entirely to helping those who need you. I know I need not ask you to be a support to your mother, as I feel certain you will be without a second thought. The goodness of your heart brings peace to mine.’”
Mr. Layton was drawing nearer to Charlie. Panic was beginning to grow.
“‘To my darling little Arabella. It is my hope that my health held fast long enough for you to become an official part of our home and family. I have imagined you here among us many times. I hope you have grown up surrounded by these honorary brothers and a mother who loves you.”
She had not. Father had died before the arrangements could be finalized.
Only one brother remained before Mr. Layton would reach Charlie. One note. One letter. One moment in which to breathe and try to hold himself together.
“‘To my son Harold. You are young yet, and I cannot say with certainty what you will choose to do with your life. Your options are many, but I hope you choose something that brings you joy and allows you to serve others, as I see such happiness in you when you know you are making a difference in the lives of those you care about.’”
Charlie took a shaking breath. It was his turn. His moment. If Father hadn’t quite known what to say to Harold on account of his being young, he’d have nothing to say to Charlie.
Artemis took one of his hands between hers.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered to her.
She wrapped an arm around him, leaning against him in a tight-knit embrace. Charlie did his best to push air in and out of his lungs as he braced himself to hear what his father had written to him.
“‘To my son Charlie, my favorite little playmate, the sunshine in our lives, my companion in so many adventures. My heart worries for you. You are so young, and I fear you will not remember me.’”
Tears began to obscure Charlie’s vision. Father’s fears had been confirmed; he remembered very little of him. Artemis held him more tightly.
“‘I have for you, my dearest Charlie, a letter, as with the others, but also this book. I hope it will help.’”
Mr. Layton held the book and letter out to him, but Charlie couldn’t force himself to reach for it. His tears were threatening to fall, and he knew he hadn’t the strength to add to his emotional upheaval.
Artemis accepted on his behalf and set both items under her chair. “I will safeguard them until you are ready,” she whispered as she set her arms around him once more.
Relief surged over him. He wouldn’t have to hold or touch those things or even admit to himself that they were real until he was strong enough to do so.
Mr. Layton continued his reading.
“‘To the Gents, the truest and most loyal friends I could have ever hoped for. We have walked with each other through countless difficulties, celebrated triumphs, and been part of one another’s lives for decades. I have been honored to count myself among you.’” Mr. Layton managed to read the words, but the emotion in his voice could not be mistaken.
After distributing their letters, he turned to face Mater. The entire room stilled, more so even than it was already.
The sight of Mater weeping tore at Charlie’s heart. He jumped to his feet and moved swiftly to her, reaching her just as Mr. Fortier sat beside her. Charlie met his eye and motioned subtly for him to give over his seat. No argument was made. No hesitation.
As Charlie sat, he realized he was not the only one to have rushed to her side. All his brothers were there. Some stood behind her chair. Some sat on the floor around her. Not a one had left her to face this heart-rending moment alone.
Through her tears, Mater nodded for Mr. Layton to proceed.
Charlie held her hand. Stanley set a supportive hand on her shoulder.
“‘My beloved Julia,’” Mr. Layton read, “‘I wish I were there to drink in the sight that surrounds you. I wish fate had proven kind enough to overlap our years more than it did. I love you with every breath I take and every beat of my heart, and I wish I were able to tell you so again. Pressed into the wax seal of your letter is a key. That key opens a box, the location of which Digby knows. When you are ready, please open it. Above all, remember that I love you. I always will.’”
Mr. Layton held Mater’s letter out. Philip accepted it for her, not requiring her to hold it as grief tore at her once more. All her sons moved in closer, offering a physical defense against the emotional darts. Charlie wished he could have saved her this pain.
Mr. Layton returned to his position beneath the portrait and faced the gathering once more.
His composure remained intact, but there was no missing the fragileness in his expression. He swallowed audibly, then read what remained of Father’s final words to them all.
Where and when you choose to read my letters, I will not dictate. Be good and true to one another. There is strength among you that, if depended upon, will see you through life’s difficulties. Fortitudo per Fidem. Love each other. Defend each other. And know that I love you all.
Think on me fondly, with smiles and laughter. Dry your tears. Hold fast to hope.
Forget me not.
Your friend,
Your father,
Your husband,
Lucas
