Breathless (21 page)

Charlotte went to her room, going to her jewelry box, and pulled out the picture of Luc that she loved so much, the one of him on the beach at Cherbourg. It was so hard to imagine that he was maybe still sitting in a jail, for participating in a riot. That wasn't like Luc. He was never confrontational. He was never furious or nasty, like she could be. He was the good one. He wasn't supposed to be sitting in jail right now.

Charlotte remembered the day she was put on the train to go to England. She remembered looking down at Luc through the car's window, seeing his green eyes for the very last time. She remembered how heavy her heart had felt as she had realized that this might be the very last time she would ever see him. She remembered the aching feeling that she would never see him again.

"Please be safe, Luc," Charlotte whispered to the photograph, as if it were the mirror from
Beauty and the Beast
, and he could say something back to her. But it wasn't. It was just a photograph. Choking back tears, Charlotte set it back down on her dresser. She couldn't tell Luc what to do all the way in France. She was going to have to let him go, and let him make his own decisions.

Outside her door, she could hear the footsteps of Jack coming upstairs. Quickly wiping her eyes and brushing away tears, Charlotte walked to her door. Her hand lingered for a moment, wondering if this is really what she wanted to do, but then she decisively pushed the door all the way closed and locked it. She turned and leaned back on the door, sinking to the ground, and letting her tears fall. All she wanted was to be held, to be comforted. But Jack was almost like a brother to her now. And her brother wasn't here. So what was the point in making herself miss him more, by letting Jack crawl into her bed for another night?

Charlotte slowly stood straight, brushing her hair out of her face, and walked bravely to her bed. She slid under the covers, not even caring that she was still in her clothes and shoes, or that the lights were still on. Charlotte buried herself under the covers. Although she shook with quiet sobs, she knew this time that they weren't because she was weak. They were because she was making herself stronger.

Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She couldn't help but smile excitedly. Tonight was opening night, the night everyone had been waiting for during the past weeks. Helen had been silent as Topher had driven them to the theatre that evening, but Charlotte could tell she was just as excited by the way she was clenching Charlotte's hand in her own. She gave Charlotte a nervous grin as the car stopped in front of the theatre, as if to say, "
This is it."

Even as Charlotte walked backstage to her dressing room, there had been an incredible feeling of surging energy. The stage crew prepared the set, walking and chattering comfortably. They knew that every prop was in place and the stage floor had been marked with the correct places to set them. Their preparatory work was done. Now it was the actors' jobs to tell the story.

Seeing her name on the plate hanging from the door of her dressing room had made Charlotte realize all of a sudden that this was really happening. Tonight all of London society was going to see her perform onstage. There were going to be critics and there were going to be people who just wanted to have a good time. She hoped to please everyone. Was it even possible to please everyone?

But as she slipped on her first costume, an extravagant piece from when Sylvia was wealthy, she felt a new confidence come over her. Mrs. Bates, the seamstress, had custom-made the red gown so that it fit tightly to her bodice and the skirt flared impressively down to her calves. She stepped into the perfectly patent leather heels and straightened the snow-white lace collar of her dress. It was all so impressive. It was all so perfect.

"Knock, knock," came a sweet voice from the door. Charlotte looked up in surprise to see Helen's friend Lizzie at the door, with Emilie by her side. "May we come in?"

"Lizzie!" Charlotte cried happily, hugging her. "I'm so glad you came tonight! I was wondering if you would!"

"My new show isn't opening for a few weeks, so I absolutely had to be here for you and Helen's!" Lizzie told her. She looked beautiful in a deep green gown, her red hair falling in soft curls and shockingly red lipstick applied expertly. "I was wondering if you'd like any help with your makeup for the show? I know it's all a bit difficult when you're excited for an opening night. I've just helped Emilie and she wanted to come along."

"Oh, please!" Charlotte asked, pulling them both into the room. "I've barely learned how to apply my makeup, yet! I'd love some help!" She sat in front of her lit mirror, and Lizzie pulled up a chair across from her, setting her makeup box on the counter and pulling out a few pieces.

"Are you excited for tonight?" Lizzie asked conversationally, gesturing for Charlotte to close her eyes so she could apply eye-shadow.

"You don't even know," Charlotte told her. "At first I was so nervous. But now...I realize there's really nothing more I can do to prepare. And it's far too late to pull out of the show. So I'll just have to do my best and hope everyone appreciates it."

"They will, Charlotte," Emilie told her earnestly. "You're truly wonderful."

Charlotte smiled at Emilie's sweet honesty. "Thank you, Emilie. I hope everyone else feels the same way."

"I know Wesley does," Emilie told her with startling candor. Charlotte opened her eyes in surprise. "He told me so," Emilie continued. "Last night when you had to leave to get your tooth fixed. I think he thought I was worried that you weren't there, because he started telling me how wonderful you were and how perfect you were for the role."

Charlotte couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "He said that?"

"Charlotte," Lizzie said with a smile. "You fancy Wesley?"

Charlotte's cheeks flushed. "I mean, I suppose so. We went on a date the other night. But I didn't know if he felt that way or if I was just...a little kid to him. The little kid who lives with his aunt and uncle."

"I don't think so," Emilie said, swinging her legs excitedly. "He thinks you're special."

"Gee," Lizzie said with a pout. "I leave town for a couple of months and so much has happened! I've known Wesley for years. He's the sweetest."

Charlotte nodded, smiling. "He is. I regret not meeting him sooner."

"So I assume you know a little bit about the familial situation, then?" Lizzie asked quietly. Charlotte nodded. "Good. I'm glad that they're all starting to work together, again. I know it was all tearing Helen apart for so long. But when you came," Lizzie gave Charlotte a knowing smile, "Helen really felt that something was going to change. She told me so. She really thought that Jack was changing. I think she still does."

At the mention of Jack's name, Charlotte's heart fluttered a little. She had felt so happy only moments ago, with the mention of Wesley. How could Jack always make her feel differently? Why did she get this pain in her heart when anyone mentioned his name?

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," Lizzie said quickly, watching Charlotte's face drop. "But Helen had told me that...that Jack sometimes acted differently now that you were here. Maybe he's just growing up," she said dismissively. "He's getting older. Maybe maturing. But Helen...she did think it might have something to do with you. And I do think that..." Lizzie shifted, trying to find the words. She lowered her voice. "I think that Helen might have been hoping that you and Jack would fancy each other."

Charlotte's mouth opened in surprise. She was so taken aback. She had never expected anything like this. Helen had hoped for her and Jack to fancy each other? They were so different. They were both so hard-edged. When Charlotte had imagined herself with a beau, he had always been charming and sweet and gentlemanly...just like Wesley. But nothing like Jack. And at the same time, Jack made her feel like she never had before. Whenever he gave her a smile of approval or laughed at a joke or engaged in a serious conversation with her, Charlotte felt special. She felt special that he would even give her that attention, that he even cared that much about her.

"Everything's your decision, Charlotte," Lizzie told her logically, tipping Charlotte's head upward so she could finish her makeup. "Of course you can do whatever you want to do. But I just wanted to let you know everything before you do decide."

"Thank you," Charlotte managed. She was thankful. She was glad she knew everything, even if it made it all so much more difficult.

"Charlotte, I think I've forgotten my line!" Emilie suddenly cried in panic. She ran over to Charlotte and threw herself onto her lap. "In the scene when we first lose everything! What do I say to you when we're holding each other? Oh, I've forgotten everything!"

Charlotte pulled Emilie up straight and looked at her in the eyes. "No you haven't, Emilie. Listen to me. You remember everything perfectly. You knew every one of your lines from the first day we started rehearsals. Take a deep breath." Charlotte demonstrated by closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. She felt Emilie do the same. "Good. Now look at me. As we're holding each other, what is your first line?"

Emilie opened her big brown eyes. "
What are we going to do, Sylvie? We've lost everything-Mama, Papa, all we owned, all we know...what will we do?
" she recited with a perfect little French accent that nearly made Charlotte cry for home.

Charlotte nodded. "And then what do I say?"

"You say...that everything will be fine," Emilie told Charlotte, her eyes lighting up. "I remembered! You say that everything will be fine, Charlotte!"

"And everything will be fine," Charlotte insisted. "You are going to remember every one of your lines and so will I. We're going to be perfect." Emilie nodded enthusiastically.

There was another knock at the door.

"Probably Helen," Charlotte told Lizzie. "Come in!" she called. But to her surprise, it wasn't Helen. It was Jack. He smiled nervously as he came around the corner.

"Hi...is it alright if I come in?" He caught a glance of Lizzie and Emilie and hurriedly added, "I can see you're busy. Sorry, I'll just see you later."

"No, Jack!" Lizzie smiled brightly at him, gathering her things. "I was just finishing up Charlotte's makeup. She's all yours. Come on, Emilie." Lizzie pulled at Emilie's hand. She quickly pecked Jack's cheek as she passed him-Charlotte had forgotten they had known each other since he was small-and told Charlotte, "Good luck!" one last time before leaving.

"I'll see you in a few minutes, Charlotte!" Emilie called to her as Lizzie pulled her from the room.

Charlotte laughed nervously and shut the door behind them. "Sorry about that. They're just...excited."

"Yeah, I think everyone is," Jack said. "Aren't you?"

Charlotte nodded. "And nervous," she added.
But not about the play.

Jack nodded. His breathing was quick and uneasy. He looked upset. "Charlotte," he began haltingly. "I really needed to talk to you about something." He sat down heavily in one of the chairs.

Charlotte frowned and sat across from him. "What's wrong, Jack?" she asked quietly. She reached across and touched his hand. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Jack laughed, but he still looked upset. His blue eyes were bloodshot, but not like when he had been drinking. They looked as if he had been up all night. He looked tired, and sad, and conflicted. He was worrying Charlotte. Was this about going to war, again?

"What's going on, Jack?" she asked.

"I just..." Jack sighed frustratedly and ran his hand through his hair. He shook his head violently. "I just feel terrible, Charlotte." Charlotte frowned. "I feel just so terribly," Jack gestured with his hands, "that I judged you so quickly and for so long." Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. These were the last words she had expected to hear from him. He looked at her directly in the eyes and grasped her hands in his own. "From the moment I saw you in my house, I judged you to be a silly, spoiled, shallow little girl. I didn't think there was anything to you other than a pretty face and charisma. And I so resented the fact that my parents already liked you better than they liked me. I didn't understand why they couldn't see that you were just a farce-so fake about everything. Because it seemed so painfully obvious to me that you were a spoiled brat who took on a character to make others feel sorry for you."

Charlotte's cheeks blushed furiously at this, tears pricking her eyes. She had always imagined that was what Jack thought of her...but to hear that it was true was only more painful than before.

"No, don't cry, Charlotte," Jack plead with her, rubbing her hand with his thumb. He looked at her with honest eyes. "Please. Because what I wanted to tell you was that...I'm sorry for thinking all of that. I know I was wrong. I was wrong about all of it. As I've gotten to know more about you, and know more about you story, I now realize that you've had a harder time than I ever have.
I
am the person who I thought you were. And you...you're brave. And you're loving, especially when you talk about your brother. And you're kind and generous. And I was the one who was terrible and spoiled. So I'm sorry."

"No, Jack," Charlotte insisted, halting him. "No. You're not terrible or spoiled. You're human, just like me. And to tell the complete truth," she laughed at the irony, "I think I was silly and shallow when I first came to England. The only thing I could think of was how wonderful it would be to get away from my nagging mother, and how beautiful the clothes were that Helen bought me, and how generous Lewis was when he would give me books, and how wonderful it felt to be spoiled!" Charlotte sighed, thinking about how she had been only a few months ago.