Charlie frowned as he bent down over the paper in front of him, putting the quill in the ink-pot to rest while he read what he had written. He wasn’t overly pleased, but he surmised it would have to do.
Letters had never been his strong suite “ at least not these types of letters. Business notes, invitations, requests, he could do with the style and grace they required. He had nice handwriting and always made sure to use the best quality paper. This, however, was something different. These mattered, probably more than any other letters he had ever written in his life.
When he had seen her enter the room that early afternoon, he’d nearly fallen from the chair. True, he had noticed that she was pretty already the previous times they’d met, and true, he had seen many young women prettier than her, but when she wore that crimson colour, Hermione Granger’s whole look changed somehow. It was as if the colour made her skin shimmer and glow, and combined with the slight flush of her cheeks and the natural golden streaks in her hair, she’d looked stunning.
After staring at her for what must have been longer than was proper, Charlie had finally collected himself enough to rise and greet her as befitted a gentleman to greet a lady. Brushing his lips against her hand, he’d felt a tingle run through him as the softness of her skin had come in contact with his lips, a reaction that for Charlie had been both unusual and a bit unnerving.
Charlie had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hold a casual conversation with both Miss Granger and her parents “a task that was harder than he had imagined when he first sat down to write the formal request to pay her a visit. Almost immediately he had started to regret not finding a way to speak to her without her parents being present.
While talking to Mr Granger about his booming business “ a task difficult in itself, seeing how he couldn’t disclose the true nature of some of his business, as well as not even remotely hinting at having slaves “ Charlie had also tried to interest both Miss Granger and her mother in the beauty of the south. That task, too, had proven to be much more difficult than he had anticipated.
While her mother had seemed increasingly pleased with anything and everything he’d told her, Miss Granger had seemed rather indifferent to everything he’d said. Not that she hadn’t made polite conversation “ saying exactly the right thing at the right time, politely asking him to elaborate this, or explain that. It was just that she hadn’t been the same girl that had vehemently argued against slavery, or told him he was a coward, or laughed at his sometimes slightly improper jokes. There had been something missing. A fire perhaps. The glint in her eyes that he had seen when something interested her. Not knowing quite how to handle the situation, Charlie had talked about anything and everything, hoping to find some subject that would please Miss Granger as much as it did her mother.
He had mentioned his library only in passing “ too accustomed to never speaking of his reading habits with anyone, to consider it a suitable topic for discussion. Fortunately, Miss Granger had been very eager to discuss the topic and completely forgotten propriety when she simply interrupted him to reassure herself that he actually had mentioned a library. Her mother’s reprimands at her behaviour had hardly been heard, as Charlie quickly had seized the opportunity and diverted the conversation to the library and the books within. Before long, they had both been deeply emerged in conversations that covered classic literature, new authors and their promise, poetry versus prose, if some books should be forbidden or not. For Charlie, who never discussed either reading habits or literature, this had been uncharted territory, but also something he had greatly enjoyed, even when Miss Granger’s parents had seemed a little worried about the heat and fire of their discussion. The two had, however, adapted and had soon pretended that such a lively conversation between their daughter and a man they had only really encountered for the first time two days earlier, was completely within socially acceptable standards.
Before he had left that day, Charlie had made sure to find out where the Grangers would pay visit the following day, and for the following three days he had made sure he appeared promptly wherever they were, making sure to take the opportunity to see Miss Granger as often as he could. The two of them would smile and talk with the guests and the hosts, and before the afternoon had passed, withdraw into a quiet corner of whichever drawing room they were in, to talk in private, both ignoring the knowing glances and smiles from the people around them.
Without him even noticing, Charlie’s four day visit in Boston had turned into a week, and for every day that had passed, Charlie had postponed the thought of going home further. By the time Charlie was allowed to take Miss Granger out for walks on the town, only accompanied by Ginny and her fiancé, Harry, the thought of going back home had seemed more like a nuisance than anything else.
Harry had quickly proved a valuable asset in getting to know Miss Granger better. Not only did he know her well and had served as a good source of information about the things Ginny couldn’t understand, but in his desire to spend time alone with Ginny, the two had often fell behind in their walks, or let Charlie and Miss Granger do the same, leaving the two of them alone to speak to each other undisturbed. Of course, Charlie had never let Harry and Ginny fall too far behind, or walk too far ahead. He had no desire to let any rumours about either his sister or Miss Granger start circulating. Rumours could be damaging. Charlie knew that well since his brothers’ slightly less than voluntary move to New York. Not that their move hadn’t been a gift for the more illegal part of Charlie’s business. Trusting people when dealing with runaway slaves was always hard, and having your own brothers as your main confidents removed many problems and risks.
As the days had progressed, the time when Charlie needed to go home had come ever closer. As one week turned into two, Charlie had known he couldn’t put it off any longer. There was simply too much at stake, too many people dependent on his presence back home. With reluctance he had realised that while two weeks was too short a time “ it was also too long.
They had been walking together for an hour, her hand tucked comfortably in the crook of his arm, when Charlie finally brought it up, reluctantly telling her that he would have to leave Boston and return to Charleston. She had stopped short when the words were spoken; looking straight ahead as she slowly nodded her head.
“You have a plantation to run,” she’d said with a slight smile that showed her disappointment far more than any frown ever could have. Charlie knew that he probably shouldn’t have been quite as happy about her displeasure as he was, but at the time, the fact that she seemed disappointed by the news, had brought him more joy than he had expected.
“I do,” he had answered her calmly as they started to walk again, once more feeling a deep wish to tell her the real reason he had to leave. He had skilled workers and good supervisors, and Bill lived close enough to handle things in his absence “ had his business only been in cotton, there had been nothing that could have stopped him from staying longer. Running slaves through the Underground Railroad, however, needed his full attention. Lives were at stake, and as much as he trusted Bill, he knew his brother couldn’t run that part of his business. Too many contacts would deal with him alone, too many details were only in his head. It wasn’t as if he could have simply written to his brother to tell him the finer details of the operations either. Any letter could have been intercepted and read by the wrong people. Any letter could have meant the death of too many people.
“I would prefer to stay,” he’d said, after they’d walked silently for a while, watching the backs of Ginny and Harry a short distance ahead of them.
“But you can’t,” she’d filled in, her voice not completely steady.
“No, I can’t,” he’d confirmed. “Too many people depend on me for me to be selfish,” he’d finished.
He’d felt her eyes linger on him, but hadn’t returned her gaze “ worried that if he let himself look to deeply into her eyes, he’d lose his resolve and stay yet another week.
“So when will you leave?” she’d asked when he didn’t look at her.
“This weekend, I’m afraid,” he’d answered.
“So soon?” she’d said surprised, once more stopping short, the fabric of her yellow dress ruffling as a result. “But that’s only two days away!”
Covering her lace-clad hand with his, Charlie had turned around to face her, hoping that he could keep his resolve.
“Miss Granger,” he’d started. “I want you to know that these past weeks have been of more joy to me than I imagined when I first came back to Boston, and I would be lying if I didn’t say that that is all your doing. Had I not met you, I would have returned home long ago “ now, I wish I didn’t have to go back at all,” he’d gone on, watching her face flush.
“Mr Weasley, there is no need… I do understand that you have a business to run, and I did hardly expect you to stay forever“”
“May I write to you,” he’d interrupted her. A smile he hadn’t been able to stop had spread across his face as she’d nodded her consent “ and while he had enjoyed her company greatly during the two weeks he’d spent with her, he had never wanted to kiss her more than he had in that one moment. Knowing he couldn’t, he’d nodded, tucked her hand safely back into the crook of his arm, and beckoned her to start walking again.
They’d walked in silence on their way back to the Granger home, neither knowing what to say. When they arrived, Charlie said his goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Granger, explaining to them that he had to leave. They had, as expected, been disappointed, but still insisted that if he were to leave so soon, he would spend the following afternoon and evening at their home, having tea and dinner. Knowing they wouldn’t take no for an answer, Charlie had agreed, feeling more than a bit disgruntled about not being able to spend his last real day in Boston alone with Miss Granger.
That had been two months ago. Two months, an eternity “ was there a difference? Two slave runs had been made, one per month “ more than usual but far too few anyway. There were so many he wanted to send, but the risks were high and Fred and George couldn’t arrange accommodation for too many and another recipient wasn’t something he wanted. Besides, it was the busiest time of year for most farmers now, and the slaves were in higher demands than ever. Running slaves was always a costly business, but even more so this time of year than any other. Charlie simply couldn’t afford to do more at the moment.
Still, his mind was far less concerned with business, and far more concerned with the letter that he was attempting to write at the moment. Just as his mind had been on Miss Granger and the letters he wrote to or received from her for the past two months. With a frown, he decided that he wouldn’t be able to make the text any better by fretting over it. Folding it neatly, he placed it in the envelope, sealed it with wax and his seal and put it in the basket for outgoing mail. He then proceeded to folding up Miss Granger’s latest letter and placing it in the ribbon tied pile that held her previous ones. Running his fingers lightly over the paper, he took the pile and placed it in the drawer of his desk before ringing the bell for the housekeeper.
A few moments later, an elderly woman with strong features and stern looks entered the room. She was rather thin, but did in no way look fragile or week. With a straight back and attentive gaze she looked exactly as you would have expected a housekeeper of a large house in the south to look “ like someone who was in control, who knew what you wanted before you asked, and who would make sure you got whatever it was without you ever knowing the trouble behind it. When she entered, Charlie had his back turned to the door, but she didn’t need to speak up for him to know she was there.
“Tell Kingsley to get my horse ready, please. I’m going out to the fields,” Charlie said, drumming his fingers on the desk absentmindedly, as he gazed through the big French windows to the garden outside.
“I assume you’ll need a change of clothes then too, sir,” the woman said plainly, awakening Charlie from his daydream. Looking down on his finely tailored clothes and silk shirt, Charlie smiled and turned to give his housekeeper a nod.
“I’ll tell Eve to get a suitable outfit ready for you,” the woman said, smiling politely.
“No, that won’t be needed, Hetta,” Charlie interjected quickly, thinking of the last time Eve had handled his clothes, leaving three of his finest silk shirts with burn holes from a too heated iron. The girl really was a disaster in the house, giving him a problem he had never foreseen having.
He’d bought the young girl only a few months ago, and he had originally intended to send her along with the last group of slaves that left for freedom in New York. However, being confronted with her utter lack in house-keeping skills, Charlie had been forced to let go of that thought. A young woman like Eve couldn’t be sent to New York without skills. She’d be completely unable to hold down a job, and with no job she would be an easy target for people with less than honourable intentions. Charlie was always more careful when sending women through the Railroad than he was when sending men, and with a girl like Eve, it could never go well. So, he’d kept her and told Hetta to teach the girl what she needed to know about housekeeping, hoping that she’d learn fast so that he could send her on to work in a respectable family in the north soon. The only problem with this plan was the number of inedible dinners, broken vases and, of course, burnt clothes that he had been forced to live with since her arrival.
“It’s really no problem. I can take care of my clothing myself,” Charlie added, trying to appease the woman in front of him.
Hetta, however, did not look at all appeased. “If you say so, sir,” she answered, her voice telling him exactly what she thought of this new way of doing things. In spite of her constantly scolding and nagging Eve about her many mistakes, the elder woman was quite fond of the young girl, and highly protective of her at that. Any criticism of the clumsy and sloppy work was to be Hetta’s own, and if anyone “ and this very much included Charlie “ offered criticism, Hetta would be the first to defend her.
Watching his housekeeper, Charlie sighed. The woman may be older and a whole lot thinner than his mother, but when they got that look in their eyes, they were about as easy to say no too.
“Do it your way,” he said, resigned to the fact that it now would take much longer than he intended to get out on the fields, leaving him with a lot more time to dwell on the fact that he was here, while Miss Granger was far north in Boston.
Slowly ascending the stairs, Charlie scowled at his inability to come up with a solution to this problem. He was a good problem solver “ more often seeing solutions than the problems themselves. This problem, however, much like the problem Eve provided him with, was one he couldn’t come up with a solution to.
As he quickly exchanged the silk shirt Eve had laid out for him, to a simpler cotton one, of the type he always used when he was working, Charlie dressed himself quickly. Casting only a quick look in the mirror, he grabbed his whip and headed outside to where Kingsley was impatiently waiting with his horse.
As he took the brown mare from the large black man, Charlie thanked Kingsley for his patience and swung up on the horse’s back and hung his whip on the saddle in front of him.
Charlie gave the mare an affectionate pat on her neck and urged her to start walking. With a few more urges, the mare soon had entered a comfortable trot. Charlie took a deep breath and smiled. He knew many of his peers and neighbours preferred stallions to mares and generally considered mares as horses for ladies. Charlie didn’t agree. The brown mare was his favourite horse. She was stable and calm “ even when the situation around her was not, making her very handy when riding on the field where people moved about and sang and where people could come up to her from all sides in ways that would make most stallions jumpy. She also had far more power to her than people thought on first glance. She was a good runner and a great jumper when she needed to be, but didn’t mind walking or trotting and didn’t fall into gallop when she wasn’t urged to do so.
Riding slowly across his fields, Charlie’s thoughts once more turned to Miss Granger. He really had never met a young woman quite like her. His sister was opinionated and hot-headed, yes, but she was also polished and in control. She loved mischief, but rarely “ if ever “ ended up in trouble because of it. She would have never spoken so freely in front of a stranger as Miss Granger had done when they first met.
No, Miss Granger was something out of the ordinary. She was passionate and intelligent and one of the most caring people Charlie had ever encountered. Not to mention absolutely adorable when she bit her lower lip. She was also in Boston “ while he was stuck here.
The thought of going back to Boston had occurred to him several times during the past two months. Still, he knew he couldn’t. This was the busiest time of the year “ for him as for everyone else “ and once it was over it was the start of the social season in Charleston. Fleur would most certainly never let him hear the end of it if he didn’t show up for her big annual ball. Seeing how many business contacts were introduced at that types of function “ legal and illegal ones “ Charlie knew he couldn’t miss out on the rest of the social season either.
The solution to his problem came as lightning from a clear blue sky. Halting his horse completely, Charlie stared straight ahead, wondering why on earth he hadn’t thought of this solution before. Turning the mare around, Charlie soon had her breaking into gallop, his urge to get back fast almost overwhelming.
Charlie jumped of his horse even before she had fully halted and threw the reins to the stable boy who rushed to meet him.
“Keep her out, I’m taking her to Charleston,” he yelled to Kingsley who was just exiting the stable to see what was going on. Charlie didn’t stop to see Kingsley nod or take over the reins from the stable boy and ruffle the mare’s mane as the stable boy proceeded to wipe the horse down to remove the sweat caused by the gallop. Instead he took the steps to the house two at the time, hurrying up to his room to change into something that would be suitable for Charleston. Fleur was fussy about what you wore to her house, and today he needed her support to make his plan work. Knowing his sister-in-law as he did, however, he wasn’t particularly worried. Fleur would love the idea “ and when she did, so usually did Bill as well. Then again, Charlie didn’t really care about what Bill thought of the idea. He knew his brother well enough to know he would agree for no other reason than Charlie being the one to ask.
It was with a smile on his face that Charlie returned downstairs and mounted his mare. As she started to trot, Charlie felt a surge of satisfaction running through him. It was a good plan, now all it needed was a positive response from Mr and Mrs Granger.