Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The gathering at Lampton Park had been somber over the twenty-four hours since the reading of Father’s final messages to them all. Mingled with the feeling of renewed loss and longing was also a sense of peace. They’d been granted an almost miraculous moment of his presence among them again. Painful as it was to hear him speaking almost as it were from the grave, they’d had new words from him after thirteen years of believing he had said to them all that he ever would.
Charlie had not yet read the letter written to him, nor had he so much as looked at the book that had come with it. True to her word, Artemis had seen to both, assuring him they were safely placed where she could retrieve them the moment he was ready for her to do so. The lady whom he had, not long after first making her acquaintance, dismissed as too flighty and shallow to be depended upon, had shown herself to be a solid and dependable foundation. As remembrances of the emotional gathering the day before threatened to overwhelm him, he looked to her for reassurance and stability.
They were both in the small sitting room on the ground floor that afternoon, whilst those of his siblings who had little ones spent the day on the back lawn undertaking games and diversions. Charlie would normally have joined them, but he found his heart too heavy for the excursion.
He was sitting on a sofa, Artemis curled up beside him, her head resting on a pillow against his leg. He had hardly slept the previous night. His mind had refused to settle enough to allow him to even keep still. He’d paced the room whilst Artemis had slept fitfully on the bed. Her sleep had not appeared the least restful. It was little wonder she was sleeping so soundly now.
Mater slipped inside. She spotted him and smiled. He’d come to depend so much on her the last thirteen years; she was the one person in all the world he knew would always be pleased to see him.
Her gaze dropped to Artemis, and a look of empathy touched her expression. “Have we exhausted her?”
“We are a lot to endure when all together.” He brushed his hand over Artemis’s hair before settling it on her shoulder. “She told me, the day all the sisters went to the vicarage, that she very nearly cut off all her hair out of frustration with it.”
“Heavens, I’m glad she didn’t.”
Charlie nodded. “She has the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. And it is amazingly soft.” He ran his fingers over the golden curls again. “I like the feel of it.” He looked to Mater, cringing a little. “That’s probably strange of me, isn’t it?”
“Oh, Charlie,” she said kindly. “That is not strange at all. I daresay your brothers feel the same way about touching their sweetheart’s hair.”
“She’s not really my sweetheart,” Charlie said.
“Isn’t she though?” Mater moved her chair closer, then took his free hand in hers. “I watched the two of you yesterday during the reading of your father’s will. She comforted you as naturally and expertly as any of your sisters-in-law comforted their husbands. She held you to herself, and you clung to her in return, and nothing in either of your postures spoke of doing so simply because the other was conveniently located.”
Charlie wanted to believe her, but his heart warned him to proceed with caution. “Comforting someone in distress is not proof of a tender regard.”
“Then allow your current arrangement to serve as evidence,” Mater said. “A lady does not sleep as deeply as she is sleeping now in such close proximity to a gentleman for whom she has no ‘tender regard.’ And yet, she has not so much as stirred. She feels safe and protected and entirely at ease with you. That, my dear Charlie, is a remarkably good sign.”
“Linus said much the same thing.” Some of the tension around his heart began to ease. “Things have been better between Artie and me of late. Father’s friends have offered me some insights, things Father apparently did when you two were first married.”
A fond nostalgia touched Mater’s eyes. “What did they tell you?”
“That he focused on gaining your friendship, finding things you could do together that would be enjoyable without requiring either of you to suddenly be madly in love.”
She laughed lightly, leaning back in her chair and resting her clasped hands on her lap. “Did they suggest hide-and-seek? Because I would personally recommend that.”
Charlie grinned. “We played that with you and Father often growing up. I don’t remember much of him, but I remember that.”
“What else do you remember of him?” Mater asked.
“He used to run around the grounds with us and take part in our larks.”
“Your father had more energy than anyone I’ve ever met, and heavens, he loved being with children. Loved the games and the silliness. Their happiness mattered to him more than anyone else’s, I suspect.”
“Not more than yours,” Charlie said. “I do remember that about him. None of us harbored even the tiniest doubt that you meant more to him than anything or anyone else in the entire world.”
She sighed, the sound as peaceful as it was sad. “I hope that is something each of you boys has carried into your own marriages. If your wives can know they matter to you, that will make all the difference in the world.”
“He used to bring you flowers,” Charlie said. “I’ve done that with Artemis, and she has told me she likes them, though I don’t know if the gesture has made a difference on a truly personal level.”
“I get the impression she is a very guarded person,” Mater said. “Acknowledging that something matters to her likely feels too vulnerable.”
“She has mentioned that she likes my new wardrobe,” he said. “I know she takes great interest in such things, has studied fashion almost academically. I had hoped a bit of effort on my part would show her I was listening when she spoke of it and that I care about the things that matter to her.”
“That is worth a great deal, Charlie.”
Artemis adjusted her position a little, though she didn’t wake in the slightest.
“Would you fetch a throw from the window seat?” he asked. “She never sleeps this soundly; I don’t want her rest ruined because she’s cold.”
“Of course.” Mater returned with a heavy throw and spread it over Artemis, tucking it a bit around her before retaking her seat.
“Artie asked me once what it was like to have a mother.” Charlie laid his arm on Artemis once again. “She never had one.” He looked at Mater. “I told her she has one now. I hope she believes me.”
“So do I,” Mater said. “And I suspect Mr. Layton would be more than happy to take up the role of father, should she allow him to. He is quite fond of her.”
“She has someone to fill that role . . . somewhere.”
“I thought her father passed away.”
Charlie nodded. “He did, a few years ago, but he was never part of her life. Not truly.”
“Then someone else?”
He didn’t know how much of the history he could share with Mater. Artemis hadn’t told him her wishes on that matter. And yet, how could they hope to find her Papa if those who might be able to help identify him were not enlisted to do so?
“If I tell you something she told me in confidence . . . ”
“You can depend upon me,” she said.
There was no one Charlie trusted more than his mother. “When Artemis was a little girl, she crossed paths with a gentleman who showed her particular kindness. He found her when she was hopelessly lost—figuratively and literally—and showed her love she did not feel from her own father. Her memories of him are vague; she was very young during their first encounter. She does remember that he was a gentleman, likely about the age of her father—”
“Of my generation, then, more or less,” Mater interjected.
Charlie nodded. “He told her he had a home of his own and children. This would have been about fifteen years ago. She saw him a few more times in Heathbrook but not often. It is likely he did not live in the area but passed through somewhat regularly. When her oldest sister married, Artemis left the area to live in Northumberland and has not seen him since.”
Mater hmmm’d, the sound one of pondering. “That corner of Shropshire does not rest on a main thoroughfare. I would wager the number of people who regularly passed through is somewhat limited. We traversed Shropshire now and then on our way to visit Aldric at his estate, though that was not always the path we took.”
“Would Lord Aldric have passed through Heathbrook, do you suppose, or any of the other Gents?” Charlie asked. “They are all the age of the gentleman she is seeking.”
“I would guess they have all passed through Shropshire, though whether through her village, I don’t know.”
Charlie hadn’t realized that. “It feels like such an impossible mystery to solve. But you should see how her entire countenance changes when she speaks of her Papa. There is hope in her eyes. She speaks of him as someone who loves her, as the one man whose love and tenderness and devotion she depends on. She speaks of finding him again with so much eagerness and longing. She told me she’d always dreamed of him being at her wedding and loving her children as his own grandchildren. She even admitted one of the reasons she draws so much attention when she is in Society is to increase the likelihood that he will take note of her and realize who she is.”
“The poor dear.” Mater pressed a hand to her heart. “And she has no clue as to his identity?”
“None. She is entirely dependent on him recognizing and remembering her. That it hasn’t happened yet, I think, has dealt her a greater blow than she admits. Her father never acknowledged her—literally never did. To be forgotten by her Papa would devastate her.”
“And she has always called him Papa?” Mater asked the question as if it were of great import.
“It is the only name she has for him.”
“And does she suspect he knows her name?” Mater pressed.
“She is certain he doesn’t,” Charlie said. “He always called her Princess.”
“Oh, Charlie.” Mater took in a sharp breath. “When did she last see him?”
Something had just changed. The conversation quite suddenly held a note of earnestness.
“Not long before her eldest sister married. Artemis moved away after that.”
Mater stood, her eyes darting about in that frantic look one got when pieces of an overwhelming puzzle were beginning to fall into place. “Everyone is out on the back lawn, I believe.”
“I think so.” He watched her, unsure what had her so quickly flustered.
“Give me a moment, Charlie. I will be back.” She moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he called after her, twisting a bit to look at her.
“I believe I know the identity of her Papa.” She disappeared on that declaration.
Charlie had moved enough that Artemis awoke. Sleep hung heavy on her, but she sat up, looking around in confusion.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Is something the matter? You seem overset.”
“I—There was—” What ought he to say? If he told her of Mater’s suspicion, but in the end, Mater was wrong and she didn’t know who Papa was, Artemis would be heartbroken all over again. Perhaps she would be upset that he had shared her history at all, even with someone as dependable as Mater. “I told Mater that I was grateful you had something of a mother figure in her now, a role she is anxious to take up if you will allow it.”
“Of course I will.” She watched him, brows drawn. “Why should that upset you?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t. But she and I discussed our sorrow that you haven’t someone to take on a fatherly role in your life, which began a slightly different discussion.”
Artemis stiffened. “Did you tell her about . . . ?”
“Your Papa.” He nodded. “I did.”
“Did she—?” Artemis dropped her gaze to her hands, her fingers fussing with each other. “Did she laugh at me?”
He reached out and set his hand gently on her cheek. “Not at all, Artie. She asked a great many questions, clearly attempting to learn all she could so she could help us identify him.”
“Do you suppose she would help?”
“My dear.” He scooted closer and dropped his hands to her shoulders, then slid them to hold her hands. “She left here on the declaration that she believes she knows who he is.”
“Truly?” The word emerged quiet and broken.
“Truly.” He lifted their entwined hands so they rested against his heart. “I cannot promise that she is correct. Her suspicions may prove incorrect.”
She nodded. “I will try not to let my hopes soar too high.”
“But they will, won’t they?” He hated the thought of causing her more sorrow in an area of her life that already weighed on her heart.
Mater returned in that moment, holding fast to the hand of Mr. Layton.
“I thought it might be him,” Artemis whispered.
She kept one hand in Charlie’s as she sat forward on the sofa. Mr. Layton moved another chair to where Mater’s still sat.
“I’ve brought Mr. Digby because he can confirm if my suspicions are correct,” Mater said, as much to Charlie as to Artemis. She then turned to her companion. “Artemis grew up in Shropshire. When she was very little, she met a gentleman there, one she believed was merely passing through, though he did so more than once. She came to call him Papa, and he called her—”
“‘Princess,’” Mr. Digby finished, understanding dawning in his features. “Oh mercy.”
“She has to be that little girl, don’t you think?” Mater pressed.
Mr. Digby studied Artemis. “Golden curls. Green eyes. Likely quieter then than she is now. And to have produced the names Papa and Princess. That cannot be a coincidence.”
“And she last saw him in 1805,” Mater said. “I remember perfectly well in which year the Duke of Kielder invited us to his wedding.”
“You were there?” Artemis asked.
Mater shook her head no. “But we were invited.” To Mr. Layton, she said, “I am not wrong, am I?”
“I don’t believe you are.”
Artemis’s gaze had settled firmly on Mr. Layton. The hope in her expression was almost painful. “Are you he? My Papa, I mean?”
Mr. Layton leaned forward and took her free hand. “No, Artemis. I am not.”
“Then who?”
Gently, quietly, and with emotion, he said, “Lucas.”
Artemis froze. Charlie’s eyes darted to Mater, hardly believing what he was hearing.
“He passed through Heathbrook in 1803 on his journey home from visiting Lord Aldric,” Mater said. “He told me about a stop he made and a little girl he’d spent an afternoon with, attempting to return her to her family. He’d clearly come to love her during their brief time together. He worried and wondered about her, afraid she would get lost again with no one to find her. From that moment forward, whenever making a journey north, he did so through Shropshire, no matter how out of the way.”
Artemis was shaking her head in small, quick movements.
“He asked Digby to pass through there whenever possible”—Mater indicated Mr. Layton—“but without knowing your actual name, finding you was all but impossible. He would have asked Lord Aldric, but that gentleman doesn’t always utilize finesse in such matters, and Lucas didn’t wish to cause you or your family distress by drawing attention to his notice of you. I know Lucas saw you a few more times; he told me he did. He ought to have asked your name, but he likely feared doing so would scare you away. His Princess was seldom from his thoughts.”
Artemis pulled her hands free and wrapped her arms around her middle, not looking at any of them.
“You moving away didn’t interfere with seeing him,” Mr. Layton said. “You didn’t cause your separation from him.”
“We didn’t attend your sister’s wedding because we were still in mourning,” Mater said. “Lucas died in 1805, before you left Shropshire.”
Artemis stood, still embracing herself. She hadn’t the look of one pleased to have solved a life-long mystery. She looked almost angry.
“You’re wrong.” She shook her head again and again.
“I truly don’t think we are,” Mater said softly.
“No.” Her voice snapped. “He is someone else. He has to be.”
Charlie rose as well, unsure what he ought to say or do. He was reeling as well. “I know your connection to this family has not always been a pleasant—”
“My Papa is someone else,” she said firmly. “He is out there somewhere. I know he is. And he loves me, and he has been looking for me. Just as I’ve always known he was. He is. I refuse to believe he—” Emotion broke her voice. “That I—” Tears began to pool in her eyes. “He is the only reason I haven’t felt utterly alone for fifteen years. He is still out there somewhere, Charlie. I won’t believe otherwise. I can’t.” She spun about and ran from the room, leaving behind an utterly bewildered Charlie.
They’d found the gentleman she’d been looking for, and he had proven to be none other than Charlie’s own father, something he himself was struggling to wrap his mind around. But finding Artemis’s Papa and discovering he was gone, and had been gone through all the years she had searched for him, had only hurt her further.
