Dear Rhodora

Chapter Twenty: ...That I Lived

Okay, so this chapter is probably the darkest in the story, but I cross my heart that it's not for the sake of it! I'm not a fan of the usual structure of romance stories, where the big climax into the third act is the result of a misunderstanding between the two leads and they have to reconcile, so I'm building toward something else that William and Charlotte's little company of two are going to have to navigate together.

Your feedback keeps this little train chugging!

William disembarked from the carriage, negotiating the small steps with practiced skill and aided by Wilkins' steady hand on his arm. The assistance bothered him less than it used to—he was both less embarrassed by the gesture than on his first day back in Philadelphia and less embarrassed by the injury itself.

He walked up the front steps of Isabella's home, ringing the bell and waiting for Madsen, the Cartwright's butler, to open the door. "I am here to visit Mrs. Cartwright—is she in?" he asked the stoic elderly man, who nodded.

"She is, Captain Whitcomb, but she is not receiving visitors at present," Madsen said, which would have marked the end of his visit, except he was Isabella's brother, of course, and she may wish to see him. He doubted it, but he would go through the script. Madsen allowed him inside, taking his hat. "If you will wait in the drawing-room, I will let her know of your arrival."

William did wait, and was soon told that Isabella would be down shortly. He tapped his fingers on his cane with nervous energy, still uncertain precisely what had brought him to his sister's home. He had not forgotten Charlotte's words, which on the surface had made perfect sense but seemed to him to be a cryptic confirmation that there was indeed more to the story of her employment, but that he had to ask Isabella if he wished to know.

However, in honesty, he didn't entirely wish to know, and had no plans to ask. He also had no plans to tell his sister about their father's illness, and the two siblings had not been close since they were children, so his visit made little sense. He had simply woken up that morning with an unabating desire to see her.

"William," Isabella greeted warmly, stepping into the drawing-room. Oddly, she was wearing a wide-brimmed bonnet. It was odd not only that she wore it indoors but also that it was pulled lower than he was accustomed to seeing. There was something altogether unsettling about her appearance, but he could not say precisely what it was.

He stood up to greet his sister, but she hovered in the drawing-room entrance instead of approaching him. "It is such a beautiful day—I was hoping we could walk on the grounds," she said, and that sense of curious suspicion only grew. 'Odd' was the word that popped into his mind again, and then again. It was odd for her not to come closer to him, odd for her to make such a request without going through the soulless but expected greeting rituals, and odd that she would suggest it when she was aware that walking was not his forte at present.

Despite that, the situation was odd enough that William found himself unable to do anything but agree. He wouldn't know where to begin protesting, and so he didn't. "Wonderful idea," he said without truly meaning it. He approached her, but she was already turning away from him, waiting until he was just behind her to head for the front door.