If Morning Never Comes - Episode Twenty-Two
In Which: Charles Pursues Romance and Philosophy
Editor’s Note:
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The Tarrants were down to the one horse now, and their lone servant Peter, who insisted that he could take care of things by himself. So it was a mere courtesy to Charles that he allowed him to help in the stable when he came to call.
“Now don’t you rub him raw, Mr. Ashley,” came his quavering old voice.
Charles smiled and promised he wouldn’t. He ran the brush over the coarse brown hair. The motion was as soothing for him as it was for the horse. He had brought in fresh hay for the beast and a mixture of oats and beans because, “That’s the way Dr. Stewart says it must be done,” as Peter said with his Irish lilt. “Fellow knows what’s proper.” Who Dr. Stewart was, Charles did not know, but he was more than willing to take Peter’s word for it. He had been around horses his whole life, but the caretaking at Ashwood had always been left to John’s battalion of helpers.
The stable was warm and spacious. All the other stalls were empty save the one occupied by Charles’ horse. Peter had removed the saddle when Charles said that yes, he would be staying for a while.
He usually stayed awhile. In fact, Charles had spent more time at Jenny’s house over the last months than he had at Ashwood. Not a day went by without the two exchanging letters, and barely a week without a visit. The only thing that could distract him from his training was the thought of another minute spent with her. Herr Stryker encouraged him in his pursuit, and even accompanied him on many of his visits. He was not a bother; Jenny loved his company as much as Charles did. That is not to say, though, that Charles’ heart did not leap when Stryker said those wonderful words: “Go on alone, Charles. I’ll see you tonight.” Nights like these were Christmas for Charles. He delighted in every moment of blushing tension. And with Peter’s prying eyes always just around the corner, there was no chance for scandal or impropriety.
Charles would not have violated the sanctity of his romance with Miss Tarrant for anything anyway. His experience with Amelia had been a whirlwind of passion – his stomach still churned at the thought of that night on the moor – but this was different. There was substance to his budding affection for Jenny. He enjoyed her company. They could talk for hours, and he never felt he was being manipulated when he was around her. And of course, she was a beautiful girl. Charles was agonizingly aware of his own desire. At first he thought that was a sign of weakness. But when he brought it up, Herr Stryker had said, “Heh! You’re a man, aren’t you? If she didn’t excite you, why bother in the first place?” That had been relieving to hear. It allowed him to enjoy his feelings for Jenny without self-imposed guilt.
He found that while his encounters with Amelia had been more sensual, the days he spent with Jenny were every bit as stirring. Because of the boundaries set upon them, she became more lovely to him every day. He became minutely observant of her little affectations and habits. Even her turns of phrase and the small details of her appearance were familiar to him. And while Amelia had been forward and physical, Jenny’s quiet beauty made a kiss on the cheek, or the clasping of hands as amorous as the vampire’s most outrageous advances.
All of Charles’ daydreams now ended with him living happily ever after with Miss Jenny Tarrant. He shook his head and laughed as he left the stable to go inside. His mother had made her feelings very clear on that front. But for Charles, the thought of going against her prejudices only intensified his intentions. She would come around. And if she did not? Well, he was accustomed to her disapproval.
He descended the short steps to the kitchen door and went inside. The room had a low ceiling and low light. The ovens were turned down now, and all of the pots and things had been carefully put away. The fire in the hearth was small but cheery.
Jenny stood over the large wooden table with a rag. Her hair remained in place but for a few strands that hung before and behind her ears. He found it incredibly pretty. The first time he had seen her hair like that, she tried to pin it back right away. When he told her that he liked it, she said he did not know what he was talking about and fixed it anyway. Since then, however, Charles had noticed those little strands falling down more and more. Sometimes she did not even bother to put them back.
She wiped faster when he came in. “Almost done,” she said.
“Take your time.”
She exhaled and replaced the rag on a rack. She did a slow turn around the room, eyes roving all over the little kitchen. She was meticulous in how she kept the house. Charles felt all that a little unnecessary, but he enjoyed watching her work.
“It looks perfect to me,” he offered.
She turned a final rotation as she let out a slow, “Yes.” She pulled the string behind her back and undid the bottom of the apron. She reached for the knot behind her neck and worked at it for a moment. “Would you mind? I’m sorry,” she said.
Charles did not mind in the least. He reached for the knot as Jenny bent her neck forward, hand holding her hair out of the way. He loosed it easily and she took the apron off. She turned around and smiled, very close to him.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased.
Charles bowed and smiled, “Such a lady.” That little exchange had become a favorite of theirs.
Jenny pursed her lips and squinted her eyes when she smiled. She turned around and hung the apron on a peg, tying the neck strings in a simple bow.
“Why do you do that?” Charles asked. “Why not just leave the knot tied?”
As Jenny turned, she spotted a crumb she had missed and reached for the broom and pan. “That is the way it is done, Mr. Ashley.”
“Come on, Jenny, that’s enough for today. Are you going to let me see it?”
Jenny dealt with the mess and replaced her tools.
“You promised today would be the day,” said Charles. “I’ve got your letter as evidence, you have to show me now.”
“Oh, do I?” asked Jenny. Then she laughed and took Charles’ hand. “Come on then, it’s as ready as it’s going to be anyway.”
She went up the stairs and Charles closed the wooden door behind them. Jenny led him into the drawing room opposite the parlor. An easel was sitting by the window, covered with a white sheet. Charles reached to lift a corner, and Jenny grabbed at it.
“No, not like that!” Jenny protested. “Sit down first.”
Charles sat down in a chair that was angled towards the covered easel. He smiled and leaned back.
“Did you plan all this out?”
“Hush,” she replied. “It’s no fun just seeing it, it’s got to be special.”
“I’m sure I’ll think it’s special either way,” laughed Charles.
“We all could use a little more ceremony in our lives,” said Jenny, not leaving the topic open for discussion. “Now. Are you ready?”
Charles closed his eyes and nodded serenely.
Jenny gripped the sides of the sheet, then lowered her head a little, “It’s not finished yet.”
“I know,” encouraged Charles.
“It’s only my first try. It’ll be much better when I’ve added color and–”
“Miss Tarrant!” interrupted Charles, grinning. This was all part of the game.
She sighed and straightened up again. “Alright then. One, two, three!”
She pulled the sheet off and stepped aside so Charles could see. It was rough and incomplete, still a work in progress, but very clearly the turbulent tree from Stryker’s house. It filled the canvas and even reached off the edge with its more sweeping branches. The details sketched onto the page were fabulous. Jenny had truly outdone herself. Or, he supposed, was in the process of outdoing herself.
“You, my dear,” said Charles, “are going to make yourself either some very powerful friends or some very powerful enemies with talent like that.”
Jenny stepped a little closer to the unfinished work and asked, “Do you really like it?”
“It’s perfect,” said Charles.
“Well, not yet. I’m still trying to figure out how it should be lit. Obviously, a storm would suit the mood, but it does look so striking in the daytime, doesn’t it?”
Charles just listened as she talked about things like shading and perspective and used not a few French words that he did not understand. She constantly looked back to make sure he was listening, and asked him to chime in on what he really thought. Finally, she sat down in a chair next to him, eyes still on the painting.
“When will it be finished?” Charles asked.
“Oh, impossible to say,” Jenny replied. “It’s so hard to get the courage to work on it sometimes.”
“Courage?” said Charles, “What are you afraid of?”
“It’s intimidating to keep going on something like this!” she said, her voice was high-pitched and sweet. “I look at it and think, ‘Well, it’s fine so far, but if I keep going I might ruin it.’ And every time I have make a decision – like whether it should be stormy or sunny – it’s like destroying the one I didn’t choose.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Charles. “It’s like something Herr Stryker and I were discussing today. Reality and potentiality. Why would God create the world if He knew Adam and Eve were going to sin? Obviously, God cannot be the author of sin, but He created a world in which it was possible. Herr Stryker says that’s because reality is better than potentiality, even in its most imperfect form.
Of course, that then raises the question of why God forbade Adam to eat of the tree of knowledge. Is not knowledge better than ignorance? Solomon said that knowledge is a burden, and Herr Stryker said that I was pushing it too far, but I don’t think so. It really all goes back to your understanding of the foreknowledge of God, and...”
Charles broke off as he saw Jenny looking at him with a little smile on her face. He had become familiar with that look, it was the one she gave him when he had left her behind in the conversation. She was not affronted, but it always made Charles feel silly.
“Sorry,” he said.
Jenny cocked her head to one side and said, “I like that you get excited about things like that.”
Charles adjusted a button on his jacket to avoid meeting her gaze. “Yes, well, everyone gets excited about something.”
“That’s not true,” said Jenny. “It speaks well of you, Charles.”
“Hmm,” said Charles, still embarrassed. “I hope so, anyway. I still shouldn’t run off on you like that, though. What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Do you think the fact that God created a world with the possibility of disaster means that disaster is an essential part of life?”
“No,” said Jenny after only a moment’s pause.
Charles laughed, “That didn’t take long! Herr Stryker and I spent half the morning discussing that.”
“What does he say?”
“He agrees with you.”
“I must be right then,” Jenny smiled.
“But there are so many other sides to the argument,” Charles protested.
“God is good, so everything He makes is good,” said Jenny. “He’s not the one who sinned, it was Eve.”
“And Adam,” Charles added.
“And Adam.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Do you disagree?”
“No, but doesn’t it seem strange that God would still create us if He knew we would sin?”
“We didn’t have to sin,” Jenny pointed out.
“Assuming you believe in free will.”
“Who doesn’t believe in that?”
“You’d be surprised,” said Charles. “On the one hand–”
“BOO!”
Charles jumped and almost tumbled out of his chair. Jenny almost tumbled out of hers too, for a much different reason. She laughed so hard, she needed to wipe her eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. Charles tried his best to regain his dignified bearing, but she was not making it easy.
“Here now, Miss Tarrant, whatever possessed you to do something like that? You nearly frightened me out of my wits!”
“Did–” Jenny gasped, “Did God make me do that, or was it my own free will?” She convulsed in another fit of laughter. “You should have seen your face, Charles!”
Charles shook his head and decided to ride out the giggles. Eventually he said, “A most excellent illustration of my point, Miss Tarrant. Just as I continue to come here despite the possibility that you will frighten me with childish pranks, so you ought to continue your painting.”
Jenny closed her eyes and raised her chin, trying to restrain a smile. She sighed and opened her pretty brown eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from laughing. Charles thought she looked as beautiful in that moment as anyone he had ever seen or heard of.
“You’re right of course, Charles. And I am very, very sorry.”
“Not at all, Miss Tarrant. Although, such an infraction does require a bit of penance.”
“Oh, really?” asked Jenny, waiting.
He should not have been nervous to ask her, but he was.
“You’ll have to attend the Raines Manor ball with me next weekend.”
Charles felt his worst fears coming true as Jenny’s countenance fell and she shifted her eyes to her hands, folded in her lap.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s alright, Charles. I’m just being silly.” She looked up and smiled at him, although her eyes had lost the gaiety of the moment.
“If you don’t want to go, I understand,” said Charles, his heart teetering on the edge of his stomach.
“Of course I’d be delighted to go with you, what do you think?” said Jenny.
Charles was relieved but concerned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes Charles, I told you I was just being silly.”
“What about?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing!”
“It’s fine Charles, really.”
“Are you sure?”
Jenny laughed, but she sounded annoyed, “Yes, Charles! They just make me uncomfortable, that’s all.”
Charles waited before he responded, “Who, Mr. Raines?”
“And Miss Raines,” she said.
Over the months Charles had managed to convince himself that Jenny had forgotten about his indiscretion at the last ball. Apparently not.
“I’m very sorry, Jenny.” He tried to make the apology carry as much subtext as possible.
She smiled again, with the slightest hint of mischief, “I said it was alright, Charles. Besides, you’ll be on my arm this time, so we’ll see who’s jealous now.”
Charles’ mouth opened a fraction, then he too had to suppress a laugh. Jenny blushed, her moment of impishness passed. She refolded her hands.
“You of all people have no cause to be jealous of me,” said Charles.
Jenny looked him in the eyes, “Why not?”
The conversation had taken a rather serious turn. Charles felt a chill wriggle in his spine.
“I’ll say this: you’re the only person I ever plan on inviting to a ball ever again.”
It was out now. It was not the first time Charles and Jenny had expressed their feelings for each other, but it was the first time he had hinted at anything like real commitment. The air in the room was thicker than fog on the moor. He had not really said anything, but he knew what he had meant. The moment passed, but the look in Jenny’s eyes told him that she knew too.
When the sun began to set in ever deeper shades of orange, Peter brought Charles’ horse around to the front of the house.
“Shall I say goodbye to your father?” Charles asked. “Do you think it’s a good time?”
Jenny looked up the stairs and said, “If he’s been sleeping for this long, best not to wake him. He’ll need his medicine soon.”
“That’s fine,” said Charles. “Do give my regards though, won’t you?” He took his hat in his hand and they walked to the door together. Before he left, he turned and said, “Only happy dreams tonight.”
She nodded, “I’ll do my best, Mr. Ashley.”
Peter held his horse’s bridle as he mounted. Jenny stood in the doorway, warm light coming from within. Charles doffed his tall hat and performed an elaborate bow from atop his horse.
Jenny smiled, “Such a gentleman.”
He took the reins, “Such a lady.”
