A Wager Of The Heart

75. Found

:::Charity:::

I closed the door to my room with relish, the evenings work making my head pound and my legs scream. I collapsed against the hard wood of the door, grounding myself in my present life. Thoughts and fervent wishes wouldn't change my past or do any good for my future. I sighed heavily and pushed my body forward, there was no one to light the fire but me. I bend quickly to my task, feeling the lonely cold of the room creep into my mood. 

I stood slowly and walked stiffly to my small, lumpy bed. Sulking wouldn't halt the advance of time nor the chores that required my unique attention. I pulled my threadbare shawl closer around my shoulders and kicked the poor excuse of slippers off my feet. I winced at the sight of my stained and dirty stocking clad feet, soon I would be forced to spend my meager earnings on new clothes. I couldn't weather another winter like the last one in the rags I currently owned. 

I smiled as I calculated just how much I could get for the coin. It was a desperate living, but it was mine. Apart from the aches and pains, the drunken grasps of too familiar patrons, the constant loneliness, I belonged. I had a place and I earned it all on my own. There was a small triumphant pleasure in that. 

"Charlotte?" The soft knock sounded at my door, which opened slowly to reveal a stoic countenance. Dawson, owner of The Travelers Rest, the inn I'd found work at, peered solemnly at me. "May I enter?"

More than anything I wanted to refuse him entry, I knew the reason for this visit. I reluctantly nodded my head and closed the shawl even tighter. "Good evening." I said when he remained quietly watching me, just over the threshold of my room.

"Have you given anymore thought to my proposal?" He asked in a quiet, resigned voice. He approached what would be a lifelong commitment as nothing more than a business arrangement. "I admire you greatly." He said in that same passionless tone.

An image of coal black eyes came unbidden to my mind's eye. I stamped down the memory, and all others, of my former life. "I appreciate your friendship more than anything and I can't express my gratitude for all that you've done for me but I cannot accept. I cannot marry you, I'm sorry." I said these words tonelessly, my heart betraying my express order from my mind. It screamed over and over 'you aren't him'.

"Very well." He said briskly, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt as he gathered himself from my rejection. "There is a guest in the common room, as it is your duty to attend tonight, I'd like you ready and present in five minutes."

His order to comply to my word only made me smile despite the aching, clawing pain in every inch of my body. "Thank you Dawson." I said sincerely as he hastily exited my room. I hoped with aspirations for a relationship with me dashed he would notices Betty's continued flirtation. She would do him much better, she was kind and gentle, with a sunny disposition sure to combat his tendency to brood.

I slipped my shoes back on and left the warmth of my room and entered the dark hallway that led to the kitchen, then the common room. I put the time a little later than half past eleven, unusually late for someone seeking a bed. I spooned still warm stew into a bowl and put it on a tray with a slightly hard loaf of bread and a large mug of ale.

I balanced the tray in one hand and swung the door open. The large fire was nearly banked, offering the image of one man flickering in the feeble light. I forced my face into a smile and walked forward. The man was hunched over his table, his wide shoulders and head wrapped in a dark travelling cloak. I set the tray down and smiled again as I spoke, "You've come a little late to have the roast lamb but I assure you the stew is delectable." I turned to the dying fire, determined to get some work done while I waited for him to decide to stay or go.