Page 32 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

Charlotte barely noticed the slowing of the train, or even that they were arriving at a small, nondescript station.

She was in a state of panic, kneeling on the compartment floor with her skirts in a tangle about her, her hands gripping so tightly onto Sir Colin’s arms that she was sure she was bruising him.

He could not speak, only gasp in shallow breaths and shake his head yes or no .

“What is wrong?” she said, her voice quavering. “Are you ill?”

With a massive heave, the train came to a stop.

Sir Colin’s entire body shook, almost echoing the machine’s movement.

“Colin,” she pleaded, now stroking his arm with one hand. “We’ve stopped. Ought we get off, and find you a physician?”

He drew a shuddering breath and looked up, scrubbing his face with his hands as he stared out the window to the plain and empty platform outside. He looked terrible, with a gray pallor and wide, empty eyes.

“I’ll manage.”

No , said a tiny voice in her head. I won’t allow this. We can stop this. No longer was she a child, standing by helplessly while her mother was ailing. She made the decision.

“Come on, then,” she said, taking his hand with a sudden certainty.

It took some doing, but she managed to fetch her valise, his loose canvas bag, and his hat with her free hand, holding onto each item with just one or two fingers apiece.

He said nothing, only allowed her to lead him along as she charged out the tiny compartment door and into the hall.

The rest of the passengers who were disembarking had already done so, and the whistle cried, sending her heartbeat into her throat.

But she pressed on, squeezing Sir Colin’s hand as she made for the exit.

He squeezed back, faintly.

The car attendant seemed taken aback as they approached, but he reopened the door he had just closed, then desultorily tipped his hat.

And then they were out, onto the platform and away from the now chugging locomotive, where they found refuge on a small green bench. The great mechanical beast bellowed, and an expulsion of steam clouded the entirety of the small station.

Charlotte sat next to Sir Colin, holding him up with one arm around his shoulders. As the train began to slowly pull away, the tension in her body released slightly, and her breath came easier.

Sir Colin muttered something, but she could not hear over the noise.

They sat as if in a trance, watching as the train left and slowly faded into the distance until they could neither see nor hear it any longer.

More minutes passed. Gradually the silence became less deafening, and Charlotte returned to herself.

Fairhurst , the station placard read. They were stranded in a small village, by the look of it.

Eventually, Sir Colin spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak and uncertain.

She felt him clench under her hold, and her heart sank. Biting her lip, she drew away and slid to one side of the bench, leaving a space between them.

“I… I apologize. I realize, I ought to have been honest.” He locked his hands behind his neck. “In this, at the very least.”

He looked broken. He was hunched over, elbows upon his knees, head hung between them. Even his thick, bright hair seemed dull and worn out.

“It is the motion,” she stated, calm but stern.

“Yes, that exacerbates it, and yet…” He released a long, shuddering sigh.

She waited patiently for him to finish, but the rest of the sentence fell away. He looked exhausted and, perhaps, ashamed.

A railway porter approached, pushing an empty luggage cart, but he didn’t spare so much as a glance their way as he passed. And then they were alone again, two marooned travelers on a small bench in an empty railway station.

In Fairhurst.

“I never expected a knighthood, you know. Nor ever wanted one,” he finally said. His voice was thin, and sounded far away.

Carefully, she reached for his hat where it sat upon her valise, and dusted it off.

“I only meant to do my duty. I never expected to become so well-known. To be so… celebrated.”

She offered him the hat. He stared at it for a moment before accepting it.

“My brother was the one meant for glory, to become an admiral and sail under his own flag. Bernard was better than me in every way. But, strangely, I did not mind. He was a good brother.”

He thumbed the brim of his hat slowly.

“I might have been happy to remain a lieutenant, as long as I could continue sailing. As long as I was a good lieutenant.” His face darkened, and his hands stilled. “Funny that, for now I surely will be, forever.”

“What do you mean?” Charlotte murmured.

She’d never seen him this way—so grim, so low. It was as if a veil had been drawn back to expose the raw wounds he hid from the world underneath a cheerful facade. While in hiding, those wounds had festered until they’d become something larger than they ought.

Something so painful he could not give voice to it, even now. Rather than explain himself, he stared at the ground, a sneer touching his lips.

“Well?” she tried again, sounding more eager than she meant to.

He shook his head sadly.

Charlotte stood up. “Can you walk?” she asked.

Sir Colin flushed, bringing much-needed color into his face.

“I… yes.”

“I’ll help you,” she asserted.

The flush deepened.

“Miss Sedley, I cannot ask—”

“We will walk. There must be an inn—or some sort of lodging—not far from the station.”

Still he did not look at her. Eventually, though, he shut his eyes and swallowed.

“Very well,” he rasped.

Colin did not hear the conversation between Miss Sedley and the proprietor of the inn. He hung back, leaning against the half-timbered wall like a drunkard. He did not even know where they were. All he knew was that it would be days before his head felt normal again.

The train had left them; they would not arrive in Manchester this afternoon.

They would not attend Thaddeus Taggart Bass’s evening performance.

He would not watch Miss Sedley’s keen eyes as they saw through the flimflam, would not hear her low, steady voice as she explained just how the medium managed to confound his audience.

They would not concoct their plan to expose him on the stage.

Instead, Colin would remain abed in this town, in this inn, while the dizziness receded and a thick, foggy pressure took its place inside his head.

He hated himself. He loathed what he’d become.

He’d once been a man, able-bodied and dependable. And now he couldn’t even take a train to attend a stupid magic show.

He was startled by a gentle hand upon his arm, and his head reeled once again.

“Oh—did I upset you?”

Miss Sedley withdrew her touch. It felt hateful, for her to pull away like that. But he did not reach for her.

“No,” he said thickly.

She studied him, perhaps detecting his lie, but she merely nodded.

“Right. We’re in luck. There is a private room upstairs.”

Relief melted through him. He could finally lie down and—

“Wait,” he said. “ A room? Just one?”

Miss Sedley’s eyes darted to the side, where the owner was scribbling in a ledger atop the tall wooden counter.

“Yes, just one.” She raised her voice slightly, and affected a syrupy tone that did not match the intense warning on her face. “It shall be quaint, and rather cozy—a charming place for you to have a bit of rest. Don’t you think, husband ?”

Ah. So that was the way of it. Colin nodded; all the fight had gone from him.

“Good,” she said through clenched teeth.

The innkeeper did not look up.

As soon as he entered the upstairs room he shucked off his jacket, not caring where it fell to.

He collapsed on the bed, trying not to notice that it was the only furniture in the tiny room aside from a caned chair and a feeble washstand.

The entire world swung about him with each turn of his head, and his scalp crawled as though it wished to detach itself from his skull.

He fell back, grateful to be safely hidden from the public streets, even if it had to be in here.

He shut his eyes. The swaying, thankfully, was less violent now than when it had first struck him on the train, but he knew it would linger for hours.

Something tugged at his shoe and he recoiled, yanking his leg back.

“Sir Colin!” Miss Sedley admonished. “Calm yourself! You cannot keep… jerking about.”

He did his best to relax and allowed her to lift his foot and untie the laces.

“Thrashing about cannot be good for your ailment. At least, I would have to assume, since you have not said two words about what exactly it is,” she hissed.

“No, you’re right,” he admitted with remorse. How to explain it to her? How to put into words just what tormented him without being marked as foolish? Or, as his father had all but said, completely mad?

Colin felt her slide the shoe off, heard it fall to the floor with a thud. Gently, she set his foot down and lifted the other.

Perhaps Miss Sedley would understand.

She didn’t seem to be one to judge, except when it came to false, underhanded individuals like Mr. Bass.

Indeed, she spoke of peculiar characters like Mrs. Stone with an even-handed, straightforward kindness.

Colin rolled to one side, not wishing her to see the pain in his face when he spoke.

He took a deep breath, then began to speak of the worst, most hateful thing about himself.

“Sometimes I feel as if my head is too heavy, as if I cannot keep upright for fear of falling… and then I just…”

Fall to pieces .

Her fingers slowed, their touch soft against his ankle.

“It began at sea, a little over a year ago. It just happened one day, without warning, for no apparent reason. I thought I’d a fever.

But the medical officer told me I was right as rain, even though it took me a week to get my sea legs back.

I felt… it was terrifying, not knowing what was happening.

And then, just when I was finally starting to feel myself, it happened again.

And then again. And I knew I could not remain on the water.

Not like that… like this. My parents think me mad. ”

Slowly she slid his other shoe off. He heard her set it on the ground—gently this time, rather than drop it.

“And now…” He didn’t want to say it aloud. Because that would make it real. But he had to. Miss Sedley deserved the entire truth. “Now I wonder if I will ever return. I… I could remain this way and never recover. Broken and on half-pay. Forever.”

The ensuing silence was the hollowest, most sorrowful thing Colin had ever heard.

There it all was, laid out in plain, terrifying English.

He might never be himself again. Might never set foot on a ship, let alone receive promotion.

His father would disown him. His mother would put on a good face, but secretly despair.

Colin shut his eyes tighter. It ought to be him—not his brother—dead at the bottom of the ocean, picked apart by whatever strange, unknowable creatures lived in the depths.

“Colin…” Miss Sedley started. Her voice was so gentle, so soothing.

“Colin. You called me that on the bench at the station,” he cut her off, sounding angrier than he was. “Why do you keep referring to me so familiarly?”

He felt her rise from the bed, and he wanted to sit up and reach for her, to pull her back against him and embrace her. But he couldn’t. He could barely handle just lying down, his eyes shut to the world as it spun around him.

“I cannot say,” she finally answered, sounding as blithe as usual. “I suppose it feels… correct.”

He scoffed. It was very much the opposite of correct, but it seemed futile to say so just now.

“You could call me Charlotte, if you wish.”

Charlotte . Just as she’d signed her letter. Just as he’d called out to her when he’d taken himself in hand and imagined what it would be like to lie with her. And now here she was, so close to him and yet still beyond his reach.

“For now, though,” she continued, her skirts rustling as she moved about the small room, “you should concern yourself only with resting.”

He could not answer. All of his woes, his torment, had come to a head.

He heard the door to the room shut.

Before he drifted into an uneasy rest, his last thought was that he ought to have kept her from leaving on her own. But she would not have heeded his exhortations, willful creature that she was.

A warmth overtook his chest as he thought of her—of Charlotte—and he held tight to it.

Then, at last, he slept.