Chapter Text
Charlotte shifted, rolling her shoulders and neck in an effort to relieve the dull ache that had started between her shoulder blades. It had been hours since she’d first sat down in this room. Mrs. Wheatley, Samuel, Susan, and Augusta had all pleaded with her to leave, to rest for a few hours at least, but she had refused them all.
She shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Hours had been spent in this chair. Hours spent almost entirely in recollection, thought, and prayer. And waiting. What seemed like endless hours of waiting.
Setting the book she’d been only half-attempting to read aside, she allowed her eyes to roam around the room once more.
It was not a room she’d ever spent much time considering. Her efforts had been better spent in other rooms throughout the house. It wasn’t that she particularly disliked the room, but it was rarely used and most definitely not to her taste. In her opinion, the deep red fabrics combined with the dark wood gave the room a dreary aspect. Only a few paintings hung on the wall, each a hunting scene that, although featuring horses and dogs, reminded her very little of her husband’s personal preferences. She thought that, if asked, he would prefer the sea or landscapes that highlighted the wide-open spaces he loved so much.
From speaking with Mrs. Wheatley, little had been done to the furnishings and decor since Xander’s mother had been alive. The room had been decorated with the late Charles Colbourne in mind, not his son. But Xander’s father had spent his last years in a make-shift bedroom on the floor below, his health so poor from years of heavy drinking that he could no longer navigate the stairs without great effort. When Xander had inherited the estate, it had taken more than a little cajoling from his housekeeper to get him to take over the master bedroom. But despite his dislike for anything associated with his father, he had refused to spend money on updating the room when it was needed elsewhere.
Since their wedding, Charlotte could count on one hand the number of nights her husband had spent in the master bedroom. Like her, he preferred to share a bed and had happily spent his nights by her side in the mistress’s bedroom since. Only a brief illness before Christmas had sent him back to his former chamber.
Until now, she reminded herself.
Allowing her gaze to drift back to her husband, she reached out towards him more from habit than concern, brushing that stubborn lock of hair from his forehead. From his right side, one could easily imagine he was merely sleeping. It was only when she looked at him from the front or his left that she was reminded of what had happened. Swelling and dark purple bruising marred his usually handsome face, his left eye incapable of opening. There was a wound too, hidden just above his hairline. Although not large, it had bled a frightening amount.
They could never have predicted that when Xander left for the dairy that morning, he would not return under his own power. Nor could they have imagined that when he had been brought to the house by some of the men from the dairy, he would still be unconscious all these hours later. And despite the offers and protests of her family and their faithful housekeeper, she had continued to insist that hers would be the first face he’d see when he finally woke again.
A sudden surge of anger burned through her as she recalled Samuel’s poorly timed query, made amongst yet another appeal for her to rest. His question about where his brother kept his will and other important estate documents had sparked a heated response deep inside her. It hardly mattered that he hadn’t intended to cause her any anger or pain with his questions. She knew it was nothing more than his own fear of losing his only brother and his concern for her and the girls that led him to turn to his experience as a lawyer rather than admit his true feelings. Reading documents, writing letters, and making plans for something they all desperately hoped wouldn’t happen was far easier than contemplating the alternative.
However, she’d refused to even consider a future without Xander when there was still a chance he might yet wake. She’d been less than polite when she’d ordered her brother-in-law from her husband’s bedside and had declined to listen to any explanations or apologies since. She was damned if she would allow the love of her life to pass from this earth before the life he’d promised her had barely even begun. After everything they’d been through, both separately and together, she was not willing to accept that anything more could ever happen to keep them apart.
She took a moment to steady herself once more. She could not afford to allow her mind to even begin to wander towards dark thoughts. Xander would recover from the injury that had left him unconscious these last two days and a night. He would heal and return to his wife and family just the same as he had been before he’d struck that damnable drum. She had to convince herself it was true, else she would be sucked into a despair the likes of which she might never recover from. Closing her eyes against the obtrusive thoughts, she counted slowly to herself until her breathing slowed and her mind settled once more. No one would benefit from her allowing her mind to wander away with itself, least of all Xander.
*****
It was the piercing pain just behind his left eye that woke him, each pulse of pain throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He grimaced and immediately regretted the movement, the skin around his eye stretched tight as a drum, each movement of his face pulling on some other spot that only seemed to hurt even more.
Slowly, he peeled his eyes…no, eye…open; for his left eye remained stubbornly shut, screaming in protest at the slightest twitch of the muscles in his face. He was relieved when the familiar deep red bed hangings came slowly into focus above him. He was home in his own bed. That much, at least, was reassuring. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers across his left cheek. Even that slight touch was painful on the swollen flesh.
A sudden and strange voice startled him from his exploration. “Oh, no, Xander, you shouldn’t touch your face. You must try to lie still.”
He turned his head towards the voice and immediately regretted the motion as his head began to spin. When the room settled once more, he found himself staring directly into the concerned, brown eyes of an unfamiliar woman hovering over him as she gently pulled his hand away from his face.
His first thought was that she must be a new maid, but even in his addled state, he recognized that she wore no maid’s cap and her clothing was not that of a servant. Squinting, he struggled to formulate actual thoughts that made some semblance of sense. It was only then that he realized she had called him Xander…a name only two living people ever used and one of them he had not seen or spoken to in years.
“Xander?” Reaching out, she raised a hand to touch his cheek. “Can you hear me? Are you in much pain?”
Instinctively, he jerked away from her touch. “Don’t touch me!”
*****
Charlotte blinked in surprise at the way Xander flinched away from her touch. There was a slightly wild look in the one eye he could open, and combined with the swelling and bruising on the left side of his face, he looked quite frantic. “It’s alright, Xander,” she said soothingly as she took his hand in hers. “Don’t try to move. There’s been an accident, and you need to rest.”
He tugged on his hand to free himself from her grasp, his expression becoming more anxious by the second. Something about the disconcerting way he stared at her caused her heart to drop into her stomach. She’d seen that look before.
Years ago, there had been a man who’d moved to Willingden and then fallen ill a few days later. With no one else willing to help a stranger, her mother had taken it upon herself to care for him, and she had assisted. When he’d finally woken from his fevered sleep, he’d been startled, his expression that of a panicked man trying to ascertain how a stranger had somehow come to be in his room. He’d become more and more agitated with each passing moment. It had been some number of minutes before he’d calmed enough to listen as they explained what had happened.
Her husband wore a similar look now. The confusion and suspicion in his eyes made it painfully clear that he did not know her.
“Who are you?” he demanded gruffly, his one good eye darting about the room. “Where’s Mrs. Wheatley?”
She moved hastily to the bell pull, her concern only growing as she watched him follow her movements. She knew her husband’s every expression as well as she knew her own face in the mirror, and the look of utter confusion combined with suspicion she saw in his eyes was deeply unsettling. Silently, she cursed the beast that had caused her husband to be injured in the first place.
She turned at the sound of a light knock on the door before it opened to reveal one of the maids. “Cora,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Please fetch Mrs. Wheatley. Tell her that Mr. Colbourne is awake and ask her to send up some willow bark tea right away.” She hesitated for a moment as she considered her husband’s agitated state. “Have her add some chamomile as well, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cora bobbed quickly before departing.
From the bed, Xander’s eyes grew even wider as he watched the interaction between her and the maid. He had managed to push himself up so he was in somewhat of a seated position, but from the looks of him, he was giving serious consideration to leaving the bed altogether, something she wished to avoid if at all possible. Schooling her features into as pleasant an aspect as she could muster under the circumstances, she returned to his bedside.
“Xander, everything is fine.” She spoke soothingly, as though he were a frightened animal. “There was an accident at the dairy barn. You were thrown aside and struck your head on a milk drum. You’ve been unconscious for the past two days. I’ve sent for some willow bark tea, which should help with the pain, but Dr. Fuchs also left something stronger if you need it.”
She could practically see his mind working, trying to make sense of what he’d been told and what he himself could recall. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, his frown deepening. “This isn’t right. I don’t recall an accident of any kind.”
“Please try not to worry yourself,” she said gently. Dr. Fuchs had warned them that he may have difficulty remembering what had happened when he woke up…if he woke up. He simply had failed to mention that he wouldn’t remember his own wife. “It’s not unusual to have some confusion after an injury to the head. Mrs. Wheatley will be here soon, and we’ll do our best to answer any questions you have. I’m sure your memories will return soon enough.”
As though she’d conjured her from thin air, the door opened, and Mrs. Wheatley hurried into the room. “Oh, thank heavens you’re awake! We’ve all been quite worried about you, Mr. Colbourne.”
“Mrs. Wheatley.” Xander’s relief at seeing the familiar housekeeper was palpable. His eye darted back and forth between her and the older woman. “I don’t…I don’t know who….”
“Papa!”
She spun around just as Leo ran into the room, Augusta, Samuel, and Susan behind her, crowding into the doorway. Catching Leo around her shoulders, she stopped the child in her tracks. “Gently now, Leo,” she said quietly, leaning down close to her ear. “Your father just woke up, and he’s still in quite a lot of pain. We mustn’t overwhelm him.”
“Leonora?” Xander stared at the little girl for a moment, clearly taken aback by what he saw. His eyes moved towards the doorway, and he started, his body jerking abruptly in surprise. “Samuel? What are you doing here?”
The look he directed at Mrs. Wheatley was both pleading and accusatory, silently demanding an explanation for his brother’s presence. The housekeeper darted a look in her direction, plainly just as startled by his unexpected behavior as she had been. It was a rare thing indeed for Xander to ever express any sort of disapproval towards the woman who had served him for so long that she was more family than servant.
Charlotte turned towards their family gathered in the doorway, determined to manage the situation before he became even more upset. “Sam, could you please send for Dr. Fuchs? And Augusta, why don’t you take Leo downstairs to practice that new duet together on the spinet? I’m sure Susan would love to hear it.”
Samuel nodded slowly; concern now etched on his face. “Of course, Charlotte. I’ll send for him right away.”
Augusta stepped forward and gently guided Leo towards the door just as Cora reappeared, tea tray in hand. Within moments, only she and Mrs. Wheatley remained in the room. She bit her lip as her husband continued to glance suspiciously in her direction, no sign of recognition in his one open eye. His breathing had become more rapid upon seeing the rest of their family, and it took everything she had not to rush to his side to try to calm him. But she held herself back, standing near the foot of the bed so as not to make him even more uncomfortable with her presence than he already was.
Mrs. Wheatley, too, sensed his rising panic and stepped forward with a cup of tea. “Xander,” she said gently, “I want you to drink this. It will help with your pain.”
Nodding slowly, he took the cup and raised it to his lips as he continued to study her over the brim. That small wrinkle that always appeared between his brows when he was confused or worried was now prominently displayed, and his gaze swept over her features again and again, struggling to make sense of the strange woman standing in his bedroom.
After a few minutes, he handed the cup back to the housekeeper and drew a deep breath. “Something is very wrong,” he said slowly, with just the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice. “I don’t remember having an accident of any kind. I don’t even recall going to the dairy barn.”
“The accident was yesterday morning,” she explained gently. “You’ve been unconscious since then. We…we were not even sure you would wake up.”
Mrs. Wheatley sent her a sympathetic glance. “The doctor said you might have trouble remembering what happened,” the housekeeper reassured him, “and that it was perfectly normal if you did.”
Xander shook his head and winced at the pain the motion caused him. “It’s more than that, Mrs. Wheatley. Things are not as they should be. Leonora… she had longer hair… and she was younger. And was that Augusta? Lucy’s niece? And, please, explain to me why Samuel, of all people, is here.” Finally, his attention returned to her, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. “And who exactly are you, madam, that you know my daughter and brother so well and are ordering a maid about in my house?”
Mrs. Wheatley gasped as she, too, finally came to understand what Charlotte had already suspected. “Xander, you do not know…?” She paused and drew a slow breath, gathering herself to ask what must be asked. “Do you recall the date, Xander?”
“Of course I do.” He insisted firmly before frowning and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s…spring. Spring of…1818.”
Charlotte clutched at the nearest bedpost to steady herself. Although she had known what he was about to say before the words left his lips, it hadn’t made it any easier to hear. He had no recollection of Augusta coming to live at Heyrick Park, no recollection of reconciling with his brother, and no recollection at all of falling in love and marrying her. Instinctively, she fingered the ring on her left hand. Their entire marriage had been wiped from his memory the moment his head had struck a milk drum that had been standing too closely nearby when a cow had kicked out in fear.
A milk drum, of all things!
She wanted nothing more than to beat that horrible, cursed thing into non-existence! Yes, it had been full and weighed well over a hundred pounds at the time, but for her husband to have been felled by an irate cow and a milk drum was ridiculous! And that ridiculous drum had stolen his memories from him.
Three years stolen in a single moment. And within those three years lay every single memory he had of their time together.
*****
Everything was wrong, and his head felt as though it was being squeezed in a vise. He could have easily believed he’d been kicked in the head by a cow if that’s what they’d said had happened. Everything seemed foggy, and without the vision in his left eye, he felt off-kilter, as though he would list to one side if he tried to stand.
Xander looked back and forth between his housekeeper and the strange young woman who called him by his childhood name and seemed so comfortable in his home. Amongst the confusion and pain, a growing sense of anxiety was twisting its way through his stomach and tying his guts in knots. So upset were his insides that he was beginning to fear that the bitter tea he’d only just drunk was in danger of coming back up.
“Would someone please explain to me what’s happening?”
The woman took a step closer. “It is spring, Xander,” she confirmed gently. “But it is spring of 1821, not 1818.”
He looked quickly towards Mrs. Wheatley for confirmation, and she nodded. “No,” he shook his head, “that’s not possible. 1821?”
“Leo is nine years old,” she continued, her reluctance written plainly upon her face. “Augusta’s parents died in the winter of 1818, and you became her guardian. She has lived at Heyrick Park since then.”
He felt the blood drain from his face as he attempted to comprehend what he had just been told. “Phillip and Alice are dead? And they left Augusta in my care?”
Mrs. Wheatley reached out and patted his hand. “You and Miss Colbourne were the only family she had left.”
Could he really even be considered Augusta’s family after everything that had happened? It had been years since he’d seen or spoken with Lucy’s sister and brother-in-law. After his wife’s death, they’d separated on less than good terms. Alice had been consumed by her own grief, and although Phillip had always been friendly enough, he’d had little choice but to support his wife. That Phillip had even considered making him Augusta’s guardian was shocking to him, even if Leonora was her only remaining family.
What could Augusta have possibly thought, being sent to live with a man she didn’t know so far from her friends and home in London? He’d barely known her as a child, but she looked so very much like her mother…and her aunt…now that she was grown. Had Alice told her all of the horrible things she’d thought of him when they’d last spoken? Did Augusta hold Lucy’s death against him, too? Had she said anything to Leonora about the circumstances of her mother’s death?
Without thinking, he pressed his palms against his eyes and hissed loudly as pain shot through the left side of his face. At that moment, he wished he could bury himself in his pillows and blankets, close his eyes, and go back to sleep, awakening only when this nightmare was over. But his mind was spinning with too many unanswered questions that he dreaded asking. Reluctantly, he succumbed to his curiosity. “And Samuel? Why is he here? I cannot believe you would have sent for him without waiting at least a few days to see if I would recover.”
He forced himself to look to Mrs. Wheatley once more, making little attempt to disguise the feelings of betrayal he’d felt upon seeing his brother for the first time in what…a decade now? If anyone knew how he felt about Samuel, it was the woman who’d raised him since he was a small boy. She’d been witness to everything that had happened between them over the years, standing by his side the day Samuel had left Heyrick Park for the last time. How could she have possibly allowed him back into the house after everything he’d done?
“She didn’t send for him; he was invited here,” the woman interrupted before Mrs. Wheatley could respond. “You reconciled with your brother this past autumn. Suffice it to say, there’s a much larger story there, but he and his wife, Susan, are now frequent guests here. They were already visiting before the accident occurred.”
He gaped at her, unusually captivated by those warm, brown eyes. She seemed so confident in herself, so self-assured…yet a resigned sadness had been slowly permeating her mien as she stood there at the foot of his bed, hands clasped tightly together. A shiver ran down his spine. As much as he might want to, he knew he could not leave this matter unattended any longer. “Your name is Charlotte?” he asked. “That’s what Samuel called you.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “My name is Charlotte.”
It felt inappropriate to call a woman he did not know by her given name when propriety and the manners that had been drilled into him as a child demanded he do otherwise. In the back of his mind, he already knew there was but one logical explanation for her presence in his bedroom, not to mention the familiar way in which she spoke to him, his family, and his staff. But the answer was so completely improbable that logic dictated it could not possibly be true.
“Well, Charlotte….” His heart began to pound, and his voice caught unexpectedly in his throat. “I don’t know who you are, but perhaps you could enlighten me,” he paused to clear his throat, “on how you came to be in my home and why you are wearing my mother’s ring on your hand.”
She took another tentative step closer, an air of kindness and concern about her. “I believe you’ve already deduced the answer to your question, Xander.” She smiled hesitantly. “You gave me your mother’s ring on our wedding day, just this past autumn.”
Despite her response being nothing more than what he’d expected, her words were followed by a dull roaring in his ears as he locked his one good eye with hers. “We’re married? You…married me? Willingly?”
A startled burst of laughter escaped her, and even Mrs. Wheatley’s serious expression gave way to the hint of a smile. “Yes, Xander, very willingly. And I must add that you were also a willing participant.”
He studied her for a long moment before turning once more towards his faithful housekeeper. “I really got married, Mrs. Wheatley?”
She arched one brow. “You did indeed, Mr. Colbourne, and the house has been all the better for it.”
*****
Further conversation was disrupted by the arrival of a maid delivering a tray of soup and bread from the kitchens. While Mrs. Wheatley fussed over Xander, plumping his pillows and straightening his blankets before settling the tray across his lap, Charlotte could not help but notice how he glanced surreptitiously at her when he didn’t think she’d notice, no doubt trying to make sense of her, much as he had the first time they’d met.
It took all of her restraint to stay back, allowing the housekeeper to tend to him, her fingers once more twisting at the ring on her finger with the effort. She had never felt more useless in her entire life than she did watching another take on the care for the man she loved above all others. Although she had every faith in the loyal Mrs. Wheatley and greatly appreciated her years of dedication to him, it should be her tending to his needs.
“I’ll return for the tray shortly,” Mrs. Wheatley lightly touched his arm. “The doctor will be here soon, but you needn’t worry about any further visitors after he leaves. You’re to get your rest tonight.”
The older woman squeezed her hand briefly before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her. Although she appreciated both the opportunity to be alone with her husband and the small gesture of support, she had the distinct feeling that her husband was not quite as enthusiastic about being left alone with her. She could hardly fault him. Were she in his position, she would likely feel just as confused and uncomfortable being left alone with a stranger after having just been told you were now married to one another. The next days… if not weeks… would be difficult. For all of them.
No longer able to continue to stand quietly off to one side, she moved closer. “Do you need any help? I could stay and keep you company while you eat.”
“I believe I can manage alone,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed upon his tray. “I’ll most likely go back to sleep once I’ve eaten. My head still aches a great deal.”
“Of course,” she conceded, hoping her disappointment was not too plainly heard in her voice. “Mrs. Wheatley will bring you some more willow bark tea later for the pain, but please ring if you need anything at all.”
He nodded his assent, and she left quickly, suddenly quite overcome. Escaping to her own room, she stood with her back pressed against the door. A great shuddering gasp escaped her, her shoulders shaking as she bit her knuckle to keep from crying out. So intertwined had they become that it felt as though a hole had been torn deep inside her; her heart was left raw and exposed.
But no, she was getting ahead of herself. Hadn’t she only just argued with Samuel that they should not assume the worst, that Xander would make a full recovery? Surely Xander’s memories would return within a few days, perhaps weeks at most. He would recover, and life would return to the way it had been these past few idyllic months. There was no time to lose herself in the whirl of emotions that spun inside her head and twisted her stomach, not when there were so many looking to her as an example of how to proceed under such strange, unexpected circumstances.
A fluttering, low in her abdomen, shook her from her thoughts. Had it really only been a week since she’d excitedly shared the news with him that she could feel the baby moving? He’d been almost childlike in his excitement, fawning over her as they’d lain side by side in bed. It was yet another treasured memory he couldn’t recall, but she was determined to relive those moments with him.
Drawing herself up, she squared her shoulders. “We must be strong, little one,” she whispered, her hands moving to lightly cradle her stomach. “Your Papa needs us. Now, more than ever.”
Leaving the sanctuary of their suite, she found Mrs. Wheatley and Samuel returning up the stairs with Dr. Fuchs in tow. Seeing her, Samuel stopped at her side while the housekeeper led the doctor into the master bedroom.
“Can he really not remember anything?” Samuel whispered anxiously, his eyes darting towards the open bedroom door.
Charlotte held up a finger, indicating he should wait. There was no use discussing anything until Mrs. Wheatley withdrew, leaving Xander and the doctor alone. Despite their prior disagreement, now was also not the time to hold on to her anger. After all, Samuel had apologized more than once, and Xander had woken up as she’d insisted he would. Setting their argument aside was what was needed now. They were a family and must hold together.
When Mrs. Wheatley emerged, she motioned for them both to follow her back into the other bedroom and closed the door. Without preamble, she turned to her brother-in-law. “It appears that he’s lost the last three years. He doesn’t recall Augusta coming to live here, your reconciliation, or ever meeting me. It appears Mrs. Wheatley is the only person he feels he can trust. She and I have briefly explained to him about Augusta’s parents and that the two of you had resolved your differences, but he does not yet have any further details surrounding either of those events. I’m afraid you’ll have to sit down with him and explain everything that happened between the two of you again.”
From the look upon his face, Samuel did not relish the idea of once again rehashing their years-long differences. “You don’t think his memories will return?”
“I certainly hope they do, but we shall have to rely on Dr. Fuchs’ assessment. In the meantime, I do feel it’s important that we be honest with him about everything. We would not be doing him any favors by keeping certain things from him simply because they might be difficult subjects to discuss. When his memories do return, and he realizes we’ve been keeping things from him, he will not be happy.
“It’s also unlikely to be helpful if we try to tell Xander how he felt about events that occurred. His prior opinions and feelings may not be how he feels now…at least for the time being. We cannot expect him to immediately accept that you are back in his life again, Sam, simply because we tell him he was perfectly happy to have you back a week ago.”
And it went unspoken that she also could not expect him to love her again simply because he had before.
Samuel grimaced and emitted a loud sigh. “I’m not particularly enthusiastic about reliving the night he finally told me how he felt after all these years,” he admitted. “But I will tell him the truth as you’ve requested, leaving nothing out. I only hope he comes to feel as forgiving as he did last autumn. I’m not sure it will be so easy for him this time, however. Without the benefit of regaining your favor as an inducement to reconcile, I fear he will have little reason to accept me back in his life once more.”
“I know, Sam, and I’m sorry for it.”
“Please don’t apologize, Charlotte,” he insisted, waving away her apology. “At least he knows who I am. I cannot imagine how difficult this is for you.”
She squeezed his arm. She would forever be grateful that Xander had allowed his brother back into his life. He and Susan had provided a welcome distraction for both Leo and Augusta while she’d spent so much time with her husband over the past two days. “I made a vow before God to be there for him in sickness and in health. We will weather this storm together. After all, it could have been much worse. He might still regain his memories yet. And if he never remembers our past, at least we still have a future ahead of us to make new memories together.”
“It’s commendable of you to be so optimistic, Charlotte. If only he could forget all of the bad memories but keep the happy ones,” Samuel mused.
She managed a weak smile. Her husband had more than his fair share of bad memories, and she did not relish giving him back those he’d forgotten. “If only.”
“Perhaps it would be best if we give him a few days to come to terms with what has happened,” Mrs. Wheatley suggested. “He is still recovering from the blow to his head and needs to rest as much as possible. It won’t help matters to overwhelm him.”
“By which you mean overwhelmed by a brother he still hasn’t forgiven and a wife he can’t recall even having,” Samuel said wryly.
Even the thought of keeping her distance from Xander during such a trying time went against all of her instincts, but she knew the older woman was right. Overburdening Xander, when he was still recovering from a severe blow to his head, would only cause him a great deal of unnecessary anxiety and confusion.
“As much as I dislike the idea, Mrs. Wheatley, I know you’re right. I’ll check on him shortly, and then we will give him the next few days to recover. If he has questions or concerns, we will, of course, address them immediately. If we’re lucky, his memories will return as he continues to heal. Since he trusts you implicitly, I will leave him in your hands. I know you will take excellent care of him, and I’m sure it will be a great relief to him to have you there.”
Rather than a wife, he did not know.
In a rare display of affection, Mrs. Wheatley clasped her hand in hers. “I think it’s for the best.”
She smiled gratefully. “And we would never do anything less than the best for him, would we?”
The sympathetic look upon the housekeeper’s face conveyed that she knew just how difficult it was for her to leave her husband’s care to another. “Indeed, we wouldn’t, Mrs. Colbourne, even if it’s one of the most challenging tasks we’ve ever been faced with.”
Charlotte sighed. “We will do as you suggest, Mrs. Wheatley. We will let him rest for tonight and begin answering his most pressing questions when he’s feeling well enough.”
Samuel’s brows raised high upon his forehead. “I imagine he’ll have more than a few.”
The three shared a long look of resignation, each knowing that, unless Xander miraculously regained all that he’d lost overnight, the coming days would not be easy. Charlotte attempted a smile. At least she would have her family by her side. “I do not doubt it, Sam. If I know Xander, he will have an entire list of them.”