Chapter VII
The journey back to Langburn was uneventful, they spent a pleasant night once again at the Lion and Unicorn in St Mary Allington before arriving home in the mid afternoon of the next day.
Her mother and sisters were there to greet them having received Charlotte’s letters earlier that day.
‘Charlotte, darling,’ her mother said as they climbed out of the carriage, ‘it seems like you have been away an age.’
‘It feels a little like it too mother, I have so much to tell you.’
‘Come along inside, you too Constance, Lord Carshaw arrived earlier to collect you and is with the Duke now.’
‘You must have so many stories to tell,’ Ellen said, ‘what is Brighton like? I have always imagined it to be like Bath, but somehow more exciting.’
The explanations of the events on the south coast took up a good part of the next hour, and by the time the Duke and Lord Carshaw appeared in the salon a full account had been given of the weekend’s activities, including the unexpected presence of the Duke of Hareburn.
‘Well it sounds like you have had a wonderful time,’ Lord Carshaw said, ‘and I have heard only a few minutes of the account.’
‘You must have enjoyed seeing Cecil again,’ Freddie said to Charlotte as the party began to break up, and Lord and Lady Carshaw bid their farewells.
‘It was just wonderful,’ Charlotte said, ‘I couldn’t have been happier,’
‘Well I hope you’ll be happy to know he’s coming to my birthday in a few weeks’ time,’ the Duke said, ‘I’ve invited him for the weekend, I’m certain he’ll accept.’
This news caused great excitement in Charlotte, a fact she was unable to hide, embracing her brother where he stood.
‘He has spoken with me too about another matter, of which I am sure you can guess, and which I know from your letter is playing on your own mind’ Freddie continued, ‘it falls to me to give my consent to his question, and I do indeed give that consent, mother may be harder to win over but I am sure she will come around. He intends to ask for your hand that very weekend. His letter had arrived this morning and mother is currently reading it in the boudoir.’
Whilst Charlotte had known this to be the case, being confronted with the reality caused her heart to skip a beat, and suffice to say the thought was foremost on her mind until the arrival of Freddie’s birthday weekend several weeks later.
~
It was now July, and preparations for the Duke’s celebratory dinner were reaching their final stages, that evening he would host a grand affair for the high society of the district along with many invited guests. The Duke of Hareburn would be amongst them, and he was due to arrive at Langburn that afternoon, remaining there until Monday morning.
Charlotte knew that he intended to ask for her hand in marriage, though the exact details were still a mystery. She had decided to wear the dress bought for her by Maria Fitzherbert and at that moment she and her sisters, in whom she had confided the proposal, were preparing themselves for the evening’s celebrations.
~
“My dearest Charlotte, from the time I have known you, you have always been that blossoming rose that commanded my attention, even amongst a room filled with people. My love for you extends beyond any dowry, although I am aware that the Marquess of Collingdale would be a better choice given his fortune and should you deny my love over him, I shall die of heartbreak. But I do have your mother’s approval…I guess what I am saying Charlotte, is that I love you. I have loved you for many years. My heart stops just at the mention of your name. I cannot go on another moment without you beside me everyday. Would you do me the honour of taking my hand in marriage?’ Charlotte took a breath, looked into Cecil’s eyes without any reservations she said, ‘Yes! Yes, Cecil, I will marry you!’ Cecil stood up and embraced Charlotte smiling from ear to ear. ‘Oh, joyous day! I am the luckiest man alive! Then it is set. We shall marry as soon as possible.’ Charlotte had no reservations about that either. ‘That would be wonderful, my love.’
Preparations for the wedding took the Langburn house by a storm. With only two weeks to prepare, at the couple’s insistence, the staff and her mother were busy readying the dresses, letters, and flowers among other things, the many details to make the day absolutely perfect. Her mother had insisted in having the wedding at Langburn upon her approval of the couple’s union, as Charlotte would soon be moving to Hareburn. ‘Charlotte, it is the day of your wedding and you are still not in your dressed. I shall have your sister help you.’ ‘Thank you, mother.’ Charlotte said with excitement and kissed her mother on the cheek. She wore a permanent smile since she woke that morning. ‘Come upstairs at once. We can’t have the bride be late for her own wedding.’ They made their way of the curved staircase to the bedrooms, where her mother left her with her sisters with strict instructions to be ready by 2:00 PM. The guests had already started to arrive.
~
They had commandeered one of the upper rooms, normally reserved for guests, to act as a boudoir in which all three could prepare themselves and make ready for the great event. The room also had a view over the front of the house and was therefore a suitable vantage point to watch for the arriving guests, something the two elder sisters considered essential.
‘What’s in this cupboard?’ Charlotte asked, as her sisters fussed around her with the dress.
‘Oh, it’s just all the stuff mother bought when she went through her painting phase,’ Ellen replied, ‘do come along Charlotte, we’ve got to get things ready, look the dress is all laid out, why it’s so beautiful, I shall hope to wear something this beautiful on my wedding day.’
‘I just want to take a look,’ Charlotte said, her curiosity at her mother’s painting prowess, or lack thereof, getting the better of her.
‘Yes, see if that awful painting of the Carshaw’s spaniels is in there,’ Isabella said, ‘the smallest one looked more like a piglet. But then do come and get ready, we all need to look your best this afternoon, after all, you only marry once.’
‘I will,’ Charlotte said, ‘just let me look.’
Opening the cupboard Charlotte found that it was indeed full of half finished canvasses, the outline of a dog, or a smudged watercolour image of the estate looking up forlornly at her. But towards the back of the cupboard were other, more impressive, works, stacked together in ornate gold frames. Charlotte moved further inside the cupboard as the sounds of her sisters’ fussing continued from outside.
As she moved further into the cupboard, letting go of the handle on the door it slammed shut leaving her in the semi-darkness. Startled she turned, but the cupboard now seemed bigger. She couldn’t hear her sisters’ voices from outside, and calling to them she felt her way back towards the door which, with some difficulty, she found, turning the handle and pushing it forward.
‘What the hell?’ Phoebe said, as Charlotte emerged from what was now the storage cupboard of the restoration studio and appeared before her. ‘Where the hell have you been girl? I got doughnuts from McClusky’s.’ and pausing ‘what’s with the dress? I looked all over for you when I got back, we guessed you’d taken a half day, did it not occur to you to tell someone? Anything could have happened to you.’
‘What? What day is it?’ Charlotte said, ‘you’re here?’
‘Of course, I’m here, I work here, just like you’re supposed to but I don’t see much progress on Maria Fitz today, where the hell have you been?’
‘I … I, you mean it’s the same day? The same time? Charlotte said.
‘I think someone’s been breathing in some paint fumes in that cupboard. Good thing Mr. Gribaldi’s away in Europe, but it’s me that’s had to cover for you while the others have asked where you are. I tried calling you, messaging you. Hell, I was going to go around the hospitals in a minute, and now you appear dressed like … like Maria Fitzherbert herself.’ Phoebe said, her anger and relief at seeing Melissa safe and well producing a mixture of emotions.
‘So, you’re telling me that it’s December 21st 2017 in New York City, a few hours after I went into the cupboard,’ Melissa said, half talking to herself.
‘Wait, you mean you’ve been in the cupboard all day?’ Phoebe said, ‘I shouted for you, hell I even opened the door and looked in, you weren’t in there.’
‘No, I wasn’t,’ Melissa said, her thoughts not in the present but in the past, could she have dreamt everything that had occurred in what was nearly a year away from her present reality, yet it was only a few hours that she had been away.
‘And where did those clothes come from?’ Phoebe asked again.
Melissa had become so used to wearing what, to Phoebe’s eyes, were the most outlandishly eccentric clothes, that she hadn’t even thought that she appeared somewhat out of place.
But the shock of having arrived back in her own time was now subsiding and asserting herself she realised she would now have to resume her role, or rather her actual life, as an art restorer in 21st century New York City, though if being transported back and forth from the Regency period were this easy perhaps it wouldn’t be long before she went back to see how Charlotte was getting along.
‘I’m sorry Phoebe,’ she said, ‘I just needed some space, things have been getting to me lately, the whole thing with Danny, and trying to work out what to do with my life, and now Christmas coming, it’s all been kind of too much.’
Her friend looked at her sympathetically, despite the worry that Melissa had caused her these past few hours, a worry born of a genuine love and affection, she knew that she had been having some difficulties of late, perhaps dressing up in strange clothes and taking herself off some place else was Melissa’s way of coping, after all we all need a bit of escape every now and then, isn’t art one way of doing that?
‘Hey, sorry I got mad, doughnut? But seriously, what’s with the dress?’
The two women sat in front of the portrait of Maria Fitzherbert with the open box of McClusky’s doughnuts in front of them, Phoebe had purposely picked the most glazed and sprinkle topped ones available, and Melissa devoured two in under a minute, forgetting that Phoebe was unaware of what almost a year without doughnuts can do to you.
Phoebe seemed satisfied with the explanation that Melissa gave as to how she had acquired the dress at the thrift market on Baldwin Avenue off Avon in an attempt to get more into the character of the period from which Maria Herbert’s painting was from.
‘I just wanted to know more about how she would have felt and thought,’ Melissa said, beginning on her third doughnut, the corset underneath her dress beginning to tighten.
As the women finished up for the day, and Melissa changed into the spare set of clothes which she always kept in the store cupboard, and which now appeared firmly to have suspended its inter era travelling ability, she thought about the events of the past months back in the time of Maria Fitzherbert. She had experienced so many things that it was impossible to process them all at once, the sights and sounds, the joys and laughter, the sorrow too which now she felt at leaving Cecil behind. But all of this was tempered by the thought that perhaps one day she might return, and pick up where the story left off, after all it seemed as if she had all the time in the world.
‘Drink?’ Phoebe said as she put on her coat and covered over Maria’s painting.
‘Sure,’ Melissa said, ‘how about the Duke’s Head?’
‘Again? Two night’s running?’ Phoebe replied, ‘I thought you hated it?’
‘Well I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.’
The two women left the museum and walked arm in arm through the snowy streets towards the Duke’s Head. Nothing had changed from twenty-four hours previously when the same scene had occurred. Christmas was still coming to New York City, and around them it was clear that the holidays were nearly upon them.
The Duke’s Head looked no different from the outside, and Melissa had to keep reminding herself that it wouldn’t do because she had only been there a day or so ago rather than the months that had elapsed in her own mind.
They pushed open the door and Phoebe led the way inside. ‘Squire James’ was once again serving behind the bar and he gave them a familiar nod as they entered.
‘See, we’re locals now,’ Phoebe said laughing.
‘Ladies, good evening,’ the Squire said, ‘will it be wine again?’
‘You know what, make it sparkling, a bottle of champagne, but not the most expensive one,’ she said, leaning in.
The Squire smiled and proceeded to uncork the bottle whilst Melissa and Phoebe perched themselves up on the stools at the bar.
‘You know, I don’t mind that painting as much now, maybe it was the light last night, but it’s grown on me,’ Melissa said, pointing to the painting of Charlotte’s brother hanging upon the wall and which she knew to have once been far cleaner and more attractive than it was in its present state, though the likeness to the dashing young Duke still left something to be desired.
‘Really?’ Phoebe said, ‘I still hate it,’ and she raised her glass, ‘here’s to us. And Melissa, don’t ever bunk off work without me again okay Hun?’
‘Deal,’ Melissa said, clinking her glass to Phoebe’s.
She wondered whether they were missing her back in the Regency, were her sisters searching frantically for her, was her mother sending out search parties through the grounds? Perhaps the Duke had been summoned back from London, and what of Cecil? When he discovered her absence at dinner that night, when she had felt so certain he was about to propose, would he be heartbroken? These thoughts played upon her mind as the evening drew on until the thought occurred to her that if so little time had passed in the here and now during her absence, then perhaps the same was true of that time as well. Perhaps one day she would return and pick up exactly where she had left off.
But it was at that point that she noticed him, or rather them, for over in the corner of the bar was a small group of men. They looked like city brokers, their sharp suits and the three empty bottles of Bollinger champagne suggesting as much. The bar itself was lively, and until now Melissa had been too absorbed in her conversation with Phoebe to notice much of what was going on around them. The men were engaged in lively conversation, making wild gesticulations and evidently enjoying what was perhaps their last day of trading before the holidays began. But it was not the actions of the group which had caught her eye but two of the participants, both of whom she recognised. One was the man who had tried to chat her up the previous evening, except of course she was more familiar with him being the Marquess of Collingdale, his features matching that of the man who had so unsuccessfully chased her affections these past months. The other was Cecil.
Except like the man who resembled the Marquess he did not quite resemble the man who loved her, and whom she too had come to love as the months drew on. Rather he had a familiarity of feature about him which convinced her that it was Cecil, or at least a very close approximation, and as she gazed over at the group, ignoring Phoebe’s now inane champagne chatter, he looked across at her. For a moment the two made eye contact and, as for Melissa, a look of recognition flashed across his face. She held his gaze a little too long, as he did hers, and as he broke it, and she looked away in mild embarrassment, she knew that there was a connection there which was more than just attraction.
A little later in the evening, when some of his companions, including the look-alike Marquess, who thankfully had not noticed Melissa there that night, had left the young man, who appeared so much like her Regency love, approached the bar. Phoebe conveniently went to ‘powder her nose,’ which reminded Melissa of her mother, or rather her Regency mother.
‘Hi there,’ the man said tentatively as he approached the bar, ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘Not at all she said, we were just finishing up,’ She looked over at the painting of the woman which she had quickly pondered with the so called ‘Marquess of Collingdale’ the other night. The young man, Cecil, looking in the same direction to see what was drawing her attention away. ‘A simple portrait of a lady from the Regency, I gather.’ Melissa, with her eyes still on the portrait, ‘Do you think she’s scared and alone?’ He looked away from the painting and laid his eyes on her as though he was about to describe her. ‘You know, people subconsciously tend to interpret portraiture as a mirror of their own characteristics. I think this woman is as a woman who carries herself with integrity and who treats those around her with genuine love, and who is …beautiful and graceful.’ She broke her stare from the painting and landed onto his eyes, he sounded exactly like Cecil. She had carried herself with elegance and grace for nearly a year in the Regency, how she must have changed from the woman she used to be.
He smiled at her, breaking her stunned look, trying to turn the conversation back to the present, ‘I wondered if I might buy you a drink, it’s Charlie by the way.’
‘Oh, nice to meet you,’ Melissa said, ‘I’m Charlot … Melissa, sorry Melissa, that’s me, see what a few drinks does,’ and she laughed.
‘Oh, I do that all the time, my mom always called me by my second name, which I hate, but it kind of stuck with me so sometimes I call myself it by mistake.’
‘What’s your second name?’ Melissa said, ‘or is that a secret?’
‘It’s no secret, just embarrassing, it’s Cecil.’
Melissa froze, now she knew for certain that all of this wasn’t just coincidence, the painting, the Marquess and now Cecil himself stood right in front of her.’
‘I know right, it’s a shocking name,’ he said sheepishly.
‘Actually, I kind of like it,’ Melissa said, ‘I’ll answer to Melissa or Charlotte, if you answer to Charlie or Cecil.’
‘That works,’ Charlie said, ‘so how about that drink?’
Phoebe was wise enough to take her time in the powder room and lucky enough that upon emerging she bumped into an old flame who now worked at Goldman Sachs, and who, if truth be told, she’d rather regretted dumping eight months ago over a disagreement about his golfing holiday, and who now seemed more than willing to pick up where they had left off. She had learned from him that Charlie was in fact a very successful business man, at his age, in fact he had made well over a billion last year. Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder towards the bar where Melissa was deep in conversation with Charlie, he was attractive, tall and well built with pleasant features. Phoebe decided to leave her to it, after all each of them could handle themselves if needs be, she’d check in with her before they left.
‘I feel like I’ve known you forever,’ Charlie said as he and Melissa enjoyed their third Bellini of the evening.
She wanted to reply that, whilst not forever, they had certainly known one another for some time longer than the hour they had spent together at the bar.
‘I guess it’s good when you just click with someone, and it seems right,’ she said, as they clinked their glasses together. She had to keep reminding herself that she was no longer under the watchful eye of a chaperone, or at least Phoebe wouldn’t mind if she and Charlie kissed before saying goodnight.
It was getting late now but she could not bear to tear herself away from him, he reminded her of every happy memory in that year past, and she knew that it could not just be through happy fault that the too had now met once again back in New York City.
‘Could I have your number?’ Charlie asked, as Melissa finally called a cab.
‘Sure, as long as you promise to use it,’ she said laughing.
‘First thing tomorrow,’ he said, ‘Christmas or no Christmas.’
And with that he escorted her from the bar, and out into the cold New York night.
‘Well goodnight then,’ he said, ‘I hope I’ll see you again real soon, I’d say it’s been wonderful meeting you but like I said, it feels like I already know you.’
‘I think we know each other pretty well,’ she said.
And as the cab arrived, and a little snow began to fall from the moonlit sky, the two stood before the Duke’s Head and shared their first kiss before bidding each other a goodnight, and a happy Christmas.
The End.