Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Thirty-Six
Artemis pushed the wheeled chair the Jonquil brothers had designed and Philip had requested the local blacksmith make as she entered the small sitting room at the front of the house. She’d been entrusted with the task of convincing Sorrel to use the contraption, and she didn’t mean to fail in the undertaking. She loved this family too much to let any of them down.
Sorrel looked away from the window and over at Artemis as she approached. As her eyes fell on the chair, her mouth pulled into a hard line. Artemis had learned from years of living with Adam that when approaching a hard-nosed individual with something he or she didn’t care for, it was best to cut off the objections before they began.
“Do you remember when we were in this room the day Mater’s gentlemen friends arrived and I asked you if you would like to stroll about the grounds with me?” Artemis sat in the wheeled chair, fully confident its design would prevent her from spilling onto the floor. “You told me you would rather stay inside with everyone else. I didn’t cry, something I’m still quite proud of, but the rejection was exceptionally painful.”
Confusion gave way to understanding, which slipped aside as remorse took hold of Sorrel’s expression.
Artemis pressed onward. “I came to realize, though, that there might be a different explanation for your refusal to spend a pleasant hour with me strolling about the grounds. There was a chance, slim though I had to acknowledge it to be, that you did not feel yourself equal to the physical demands of a stroll rather than repelled by the idea of spending that brief interlude with me in particular.”
Artemis kept her own expression neutral and her gaze languidly on the focus of the monologue, just as she’d seen Adam do time and again. And, as she’d seen him do, she didn’t allow an answer until she had fully laid the groundwork.
“But then, my dear sister-in-law, your husband and mine, with a bit of input from their brothers and the expert hand of the local blacksmith, designed this remarkable chair, which would overcome the hurdles that I assume prevented you from accepting the invitation I extended and the one you have yet to use.” Artemis leaned an elbow on an arm of the chair and rested her temple against her upturned fingers. “So which is it, I have to wonder? Did you, in fact, turn me away because you did not yet have the means of undertaking that stroll? Or did you toss aside my vulnerably extended hand of friendship because you despise me and wish I weren’t a member of your family?”
The corner of Sorrel’s mouth twitched. “You are quite good at this.”
Artemis lifted a single shoulder. “I was raised by the Dangerous Duke. He taught me well.”
“I do not care for wheeled chairs.”
Artemis tapped at her chin with one finger, making quite a show of thinking deeply. “I do not believe that is the question I asked.”
With a sigh, Sorrel said, “I do not need a wheeled chair.”
“Then you did refuse because you despise me.” She let her shoulders slump in an overly dramatic show of injured feelings. “I have feared that from the beginning. Oh merciful heavens! Horrid turn of events!” She turned the chair around and began pushing herself slowly from the room.
“You can move the chair on your own? No one needs to push it?”
Artemis continued her departure, keeping her pace snaillike. “What difference does it make? You don’t need it or want it. You simply despise me and nothing else.”
She could hear the rustle of skirts, then the tap and slight drag of a cane being used to propel a struggling body forward. Sorrel cut her off long before she reached the doorway; Artemis had never intended to actually leave.
“It can be propelled by the one using it?” Sorrel eyed the chair with unmistakable interest.
“Your husband insisted on that,” Artemis said. “Your youngest brother-in-law spent many long hours sorting the ‘how’ of meeting that demand. They’ve managed it.”
“It cannot navigate stairs.”
She gave her sister-in-law a look of lighthearted scolding. “They are intelligent, these Jonquil men, but they aren’t miracle workers.”
Sorrel leaned very heavily on her cane, studying the contraption before her. Artemis could sense she was nearly ready to at least consider the possibility of this chair being a blessing rather than a burden. She needed only the right nudge.
“Your husband and children are on the back terrace.” Artemis stepped out of the chair. “They would likely appreciate having you join them.”
“I would feel . . . silly, for lack of a better word.”
“A wise man once told me that no person ought ever to outgrow a love of being a little silly.”
Sorrel eyed her suspiciously. “My husband?”
Artemis shook her head. “His father. I suspect if he were here, he would give you a hug—he gave the very best hugs—and he would tell you it was perfectly acceptable to feel sad or to cry or be afraid. He would tell you he was proud of you and that he wanted you to be brave. Then he would say he loved you. And he would mean it.”
For the first time since learning of her Papa’s true identity, she found talking about him didn’t entirely break her heart. In time, she might even find joy in it.
“I wish he had found me the way he found you,” Sorrel said. “I needed a father like him.”
“Does it not seem rather extraordinary that so many of his daughters-in-law came from difficult homes and histories?”
Sorrel’s expression softened, turning almost tender. “It’s because he raised boys who were like him. We can come to this family in our brokenness, and they don’t flinch, they don’t hesitate, they simply love. And their mother raised them to value and respect the women in their lives, so they also don’t run roughshod over us or make us feel inferior.”
“Rather remarkable, really.” Artemis hadn’t realized just how remarkable until very recently.
Sorrel took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I think I’d best learn how to work this contraption.”
“I have every faith in you.” Artemis offered a quick explanation of the rather ingenious device. “A chair with only a single axle would be unstable, but one with a second set of wheels jutting out in front would be as cumbersome as a Bath chair. Placing the wheels behind became their next idea, from what I understand.”
Sorrel eyed the chair but hadn’t yet sat in it. Her endurance for standing was small. Artemis hoped she would find her determination quickly.
“Charlie did a great deal of calculating and realized that a single wheel could be placed behind and nearly under the chair to prevent it from tipping backward.”
Sorrel looked to her, worry in her expression. “What about tipping forward?”
“That is what these little legs are for.” Artemis tapped the bits of wood with her foot. The miniature chair legs didn’t quite reach the ground but would stop the chair from falling entirely forward. “Charlie said a great many mathematical things that, in essence, meant the chair is weighted toward the back and these legs will likely almost never come into use but are more than sufficient to prevent disaster.”
Sorrel took a deep breath, looking at the chair with more fear than reassurance. Hers was not, however, an expression indicating a lack of bravery. This was a lady facing a demon that had likely haunted her steps for years. “Is it terribly difficult to maneuver?”
“Not at all. My arms have grown a bit tired from practicing, but that endurance would grow over time.”
Sorrel nodded, a heroic amount of determination now tugging at her features. She gave Artemis her cane and sat in the chair she hadn’t wanted but would, if the fates were kind, find to be a source of freedom. There was no finesse in her maneuvering, but there was ample focus and persistence.
They reached the french doors leading out to the terrace. Artemis slipped in front of Sorrel’s chair and opened both sides so she would have enough room to pass through with ease.
Philip and Charlie were there with little Kendrick and Julia. All four looked over at the latest arrival. The smile that spread over Philip’s face nearly brought tears to Artemis’s eyes. It was a look of unmistakable, unabashed love.
Artemis met Charlie’s eye and saw he was as pleased as she.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Philip said to his wife.
“Well, here I am,” was the reply.
Philip scooped up their little ones and set them on their mother’s lap. He leaned forward and kissed her quickly, playfully. “I think it is time for an adventure.”
“I think it is past time.”
He slipped behind her chair. His eyes met Artemis’s. He mouthed a “thank you” before taking hold of the back of his wife’s chair. “Hold fast to the little ones, General Sorrel. We’re going to see how fast this chair can go.”
Philip pushed her chair along the terrace toward the decline at the far end. The giggles of their children joined his laughter. After a moment, Sorrel joined as well. The little family was soon on the flagstone path beyond and making their way around the side of the house.
“One ought never to outgrow a bit of silliness,” Artemis said quietly. Papa’s boys embodied that bit of wisdom. She loved Papa all the more for it.
“I don’t know how you managed it, Artie, but I feel as though I’ve just watched a miracle.” Charlie put his arms around her.
Artemis leaned into his embrace. “I didn’t do it entirely alone. Your father helped.”
“I am amazed at how often he still does,” Charlie said. “I’ve felt these past years as if he had abandoned us, but I’m realizing he’s with us more than we know.”
