"Its a question of upbringing, Sophie! Can you picture him going to Benedict Lightwood and saying he wants to marry a mundane, and a parlor maid to boot? Can you see him doing that?"
Sophies face twisted. "You dont know anything," she said. "You dont know what hed do for us-"
"You mean the training?" Tessa was incredulous. "Sophie, real y-"
But Sophie, shaking her head, had gathered up her skirts and stalked from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Charlotte, her elbows on the desk in the drawing room, sighed and bal ed up her fourteenth piece of paper, and tossed it into the fireplace. The fire sparked up for a moment, consuming the paper as it turned black and fell to ashes.
She picked up her pen, dipped it into the inkwell, and began again.
I, Charlotte Mary Branwell, daughter of Nephilim, do hereby and on this date tender my resignation as the director of the London Institute, on behalf of myself and of my husband, Henry Jocelyn Branwell- "Charlotte?"
Her hand jerked, sending a blot of ink sprawling across the page, ruining her careful lettering. She looked up and saw Henry hovering by the desk, a worried look on his thin, freckled face. She set her pen down. She was conscious, as she always was with Henry and rarely at any other times, of her physical appearance-that her hair was escaping from its chignon, that her dress was not new and had an ink blot on the sleeve, and that her eyes were tired and puffy from we
eping.
"What is it, Henry?"
Henry hesitated. "Its just that Ive been-Darling, what are you writing?" He came around the desk, glancing over her shoulder. "Charlotte!" He snatched the paper off the desk; though ink had smeared through the letters, enough of what she had written was left for him to get the gist. "Resigning from the Institute? How can you?"
"Better to resign than to have Consul Wayland come in over my head and force me out," Charlotte said quietly.
"Dont you mean us?" Henry looked hurt. "Should I have at least a say in this decision?"
"Youve never taken an interest in the running of the Institute before. Why would you now?"
Henry looked as if she had slapped him, and it was all Charlotte could do not to get up and put her arms around him and kiss his freckled cheek. She remembered, when she had fal en in love with him, how she had thought he reminded her of an adorable puppy, with his hands just a bit too large for the rest of him, his wide hazel eyes, his eager demeanor. That the mind behind those eyes was as sharp and intel igent as her own was something she had always believed, even when others had laughed at Henrys eccentricities.
She had always thought it would be enough just to be near him always, and love him whether he loved her or not. But that had been before.
"Charlotte," he said now. "I know why youre angry with me. "
Her chin jerked up in surprise. Could he truly be that perceptive? Despite her conversation with Brother Enoch, she had thought no one had noticed.
She had barely been able to think about it herself, much less how Henry would react when he knew. "You do?"
"I wouldnt go with you to meet with Woolsey Scott. "
Relief and disappointment warred in Charlottes breast. "Henry," she sighed. "That is hardly-"
"I didnt realize," he said. "Sometimes I get so caught up in my ideas.
Youve always known that about me, Lottie. "
Charlotte flushed. He so rarely called her that.
"I would change it if I could. Of all the people in the world, I did think you understood. You know-you know it isnt just tinkering for me. You know I want to create something that Will make the world better, that Will make things better for the Nephilim. Just as you do, in directing the Institute. And though I know I Will always come second for you-"
"Second for me?" Charlottes voice shot up to an incredulous squeak.
"You come second for me?"
"Its all right, Lottie," Henry said with incredible gentleness. "I knew when you agreed to marry me that it was because you needed to be married to run the Institute, that no one would accept a woman alone in the position of director-"
"Henry. " Charlotte rose to her feet, trembling. "How can you say such terrible things to me?"
Henry looked baffled. "I thought that was just the way it was-"
"Do you think I dont know why you married me?" Charlotte cried. "Do you think I dont know about the money your father owed my father, or that my father promised to forgive the debt if youd marry me? He always wanted a boy, someone to run the Institute after him, and if he couldnt have that, well, why not pay to marry his unmarriageable daughter-too plain, too headstrong-off to some poor boy who was just doing his duty by his family -"
"CHARLOTTE. " Henry had turned brick red. She had never seen him so angry. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
Charlotte braced herself against the desk. "You know very well," she said.
"It is why you married me, isnt it?"
"Youve never said a word about this to me before today!"
"Why would I? Its nothing you didnt know. "
"It is, actual y. " Henrys eyes were blazing. "I know nothing of my fathers owing yours anything. I went to your father in good faith and asked him if he would do me the honor of all owing me to ask for your hand in marriage.
There was never any discussion of money!"
Charlotte caught her breath. In the years they had been married, she had never said a word about the circumstances of her betrothal to Henry; there had never seemed a reason, and she had never before wanted to hear any stammered denials of what she knew was true. Hadnt her father said it to her when he had told her of Henrys proposal? He is a good enough man, better than his father, and you need some sort of a husband, Charlotte, if you are going to direct the Institute. Ive forgiven his fathers debts, so that matter is closed between our families.
Of course, he had never said, not in so many words, that that was why Henry had asked to marry her. She had assumed . . .
"You are not plain," Henry said, his face still blazing. "You are beautiful.
And I didnt ask your father if I could marry you out of duty; I did it because I loved you. Ive always loved you. Im your husband. "
"I didnt think you wanted to be," she whispered.
Henry was shaking his head. "I know people call me eccentric. Peculiar.
Even mad. all of those things. Ive never minded. But for you to think Id be so weak-wil ed-Do you even love me at all?"
"Of course I love you!" Charlotte cried. "That was never in question. "
"Wasnt it? Do you think I dont hear what people say? They speak about me as if I werent there, as if I were some sort of half-wit. Ive heard Benedict Lightwood say enough times that you married me only so that you could pretend a man was running the Institute-"
Now it was Charlottes turn to be angry. "And you criticize me for thinking you weak-wil ed! Henry, Id never marry you for that reason, never in a thousand years. Id give up the Institute in a moment before Id give up . . . "
Henry was staring at her, his hazel eyes wide, his ginger hair bristling as if he had run his hands madly through it so many times that he was in danger of pul ing it out in chunks. "Before youd give up what?"