They all went to church in the village that day, and Charlotte earnestly prayed not to do anything with him that she’d regret, and even more earnestly that he’d survive the war, and nothing bad would happen to him. Lucy had gone to church with them, and they all had lunch in the garden afterward, in the part that Lucy and the countess had worked hard to clear the day before, and the countess praised how hard she had worked, which cheered her up a bit. Afterward, Henry and Charlotte took a long, slow walk down to the small lake near the house. There was a larger one they often rode to. They didn’t invite Lucy to come and she looked hurt.
“I meant what I said yesterday, you know,” he said seriously to Charlotte once they were alone. “I’d like to get engaged before I leave, and I want to marry you one day, after the war. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your parents, if you think they’d be angry at your getting engaged to someone they don’t know.” He had thought about it all night, and in church, and so had she. “Do you think I should write to them, to ask their permission?”
She almost shuddered at the thought. “They’d be very angry if we got engaged without their meeting you. And I don’t think you should write to them. I know they would say we’re too young.” It was true. “I want you to meet them. But there won’t be any opportunity before you go. We talked about why. They can’t come here, and we can’t go to London, so we have to wait.” She was very firm about it. There was no way they could get engaged now. “They’re much too busy at their jobs.”
Henry narrowed his eyes then, and smiled at her, as they sat down on the grass. “I think your father must be a spy of some kind. You’re very mysterious about him. Does he work for MI5 or MI6?” He was fascinated by military intelligence himself and she laughed and shook her head.
“No,” she said simply, “and he’s not a spy. I told you he works for the government.” But she knew Henry would have keeled over if she said he was the king, and probably not believe her.
“That doesn’t explain anything. He could be a mailman for all I know.” She laughed.
“He’s not a mailman. I can promise you that. He serves his country and the people of Great Britain, and he’s very dedicated to his job.”
“He sounds like a good person.”
“He is,” she said solemnly, “and I think he will like you very much. And so will my mama. And Alexandra, my older sister. I can’t tell about Victoria. She’ll probably hate you because you’re my friend. Victoria never approves of anything I do, just to be difficult.”
“I want to be more than your friend,” he said and kissed her and they lay side by side in the grass and he pressed his body against her, and despite all her resolve, she didn’t resist or stop him, as his hand slipped under her dress. No one could see them in the tall grass, but she was afraid that what she was doing was wrong, and knew it was, but it was impossible to resist him. Suddenly, all she wanted was to be with him, and lie in his arms.
They walked back to the house with his arm around her shoulders, and they looked as though they were lost in another world. Fortunately, no one was around when they returned. His parents were taking a nap, and Lucy was in the kitchen, helping to prepare dinner. They had both regained their composure when they sat down for their evening meal with the others.
He knocked on her door again that night, and she let him in, and they lay on her bed and kissed and fondled each other for a long time, and she finally forced herself to stop and whispered to him that he had to leave and was sorry when he did.
His late visits to her room became a nightly occurrence, and they inched closer and closer to the edge of reason day by day. She couldn’t stop him anymore and didn’t want to, and the inevitable finally happened. The heat wave had persisted, and it was steaming hot in her room, right under the roof. He slowly peeled away the thin cotton dress she was wearing one night and she took off his shirt. The feel of their skin touching ignited like dynamite, and suddenly their clothes were on the floor and they were naked in each other’s arms and couldn’t stop this time. All they wanted was each other. They did everything they could not to make any noise and their lovemaking was exquisite agony as their bodies joined with all the passion and tenderness they felt for each other. There was no lock on her door, and Charlotte was terrified someone would come in and discover them, but no one did. No one ever came to her room at night except Henry. Lucy was a heavy sleeper and heard nothing from next door.
Henry finally tore himself away from her, and left her just before the sun came up. Before that, they lay in bed awake, after they made love, talking about the future they would share, and all the things they would do together after the war, once they were married. He wanted to take her to Paris for their honeymoon. The birds were already singing, as though celebrating their union. Charlotte knew she was his now forevermore, and whatever would come, she was ready to face it at his side. She could survive anything now, with the added strength of his love. Their youthful passion and desire had overtaken them and they became adults in a single night.
She sat quietly at breakfast the next day, with a dazed look on her face. Henry had already left for the farms, and his mother thought that Charlotte looked strange.
“Are you all right? Are you ill?” Charlotte shook her head, and didn’t say a word. All she could think of was what had happened the night before. She had no regrets and only wanted more. The countess was alarmed at how remote she seemed and disconnected from everyone around her. She tried speaking to her husband, who once again laughed at her concerns.
“Even if they fancy themselves in love,” he reassured her, “it doesn’t mean anything at their age.”
“It’s different in wartime, George. There’s a kind of desperation that sets in when people are no longer sure how long they’ll live.”
“They’ll both live a long time, and fall in love many times after this. This is child’s play, my dear. You have no cause for concern.” He didn’t see the looks in their eyes when they gazed at each other, but his wife did. Charlotte went to bed early that night, and they made love again as soon as they thought everyone was asleep. They were noisier this time than they meant to be. Lucy woke up with a start when she thought she heard a muffled scream. She heard the floorboards creak an hour or so later, opened her door a crack and peered out. She saw Henry tiptoeing to the stairs, with his shirt off, wearing only his pajama bottoms, and guessed instantly what it meant. She closed her door just as softly, with a deep anger burning inside her, and raw hatred for both of them. She felt cheated of all her dreams. Charlotte had stolen them from her. Lucy didn’t know what she would do about it, but she knew her time would come one day to get even with them.
As it turned out, retribution came in another form, within weeks. A month later, Charlotte appeared at breakfast looking green. She rushed away from the table within minutes and was violently ill. When the countess came to her bedroom afterward, Charlotte told her that she felt sure she had eaten something spoiled the night before. The countess was worried and sympathetic, and offered to call the doctor, but Charlotte insisted she was fine and it wasn’t serious.