A Desire to Hide Part Seventeen

This time it was Ms. Seay who answered the door, not her mother. That was a huge relief for Peter, who had been worried about what he might say to her parents, if he was faced with either one. He could not separate from his mind the image of Mr. Seay with a gun, even though it had been Charles Hendely who had placed the image there and he would be far happier if he could forget everything that Charles had ever said to him.

“I have no wish to speak to you,” said Charity Seay, beginning to close the door again once she saw who it was. Peter hurriedly swept off his hat and rushed to say what he had come to say before she could close it completely.

“I beg to speak to you for a moment, only a few moments of your time, please Ms. Seay,” he added plaintively. “I know that you have little reason to trust me but I assure you that it will be well worth it for you to hear me out.” Perhaps it was his tone of voice but Charity Seay did indeed pause on the door step rather than close the door completely. Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out several of the scraps of the letters. “I have come to return these letters to their rightful owner, and beg your forgiveness for ever threatening you with their existence.” Charity Seay took one of the scraps of papers from him and stared at it for a long moment, as if doubtful that what she was seeing was real. Finally she turned to head back into the house and for a moment Peter was terrified that that was going to be all of the thanks he would get for having lost so much.

“You had best come in, Mr. Wells, so we can talk,” she said, and his heart gave a bound. It strangely felt as if a life long ambition had been for her to invite him in. He found himself once again in the parlor of the house, the scraps of letter piled on the table between them, and Charity staring at them. She was clearly unsure of what to make of these events. What she finally did say was so unexpected and vicious that it shook Peter entirely out of the warm haze he had been enjoying since she had asked him in.

“What is it that you expect from this day’s work, Mr. Wells?” she asked.

“Nothing,” stammered Peter.

“I doubt that Charles Hendely will thank you.”

“I have given him my notice,” Peter said, though it was not something that he had meant to divulge. The last thing that he wished was to do was to make her think that he was in some way trying to make her feel guilty.

“That will not place food on your table,” she pointed out. It was almost as if she disapproved of him doing what he considered to be the right thing. It goaded Peter into saying something that he had certainly not intended to say.

“I thank you for your concern, but I have done what I did out of my esteem for you. I should like nothing more than you have permission to call on you more often. I would be your friend.”

“You read the letters, Mr. Wells?” asked Charity, her voice cold.

“I am sorry, but yes, I did,” said Peter, ashamed, and bewildered by what she meant by the question after his deceleration of loyalty.

“You are entirely mistaken if you think me a woman of easy virtue, Mr. Wells. The only reason why I allowed my honor to be compromised was because he promised me marriage, and while I was foolish then, I have no intention of being so foolish again.” The realization of what Charity thought of him hit Peter and he found that he was amazingly angry. He had done so much, probably far more than he ought to have, and she thought that the entire reason was because he had read the letters and had thought that she would sleep with him.

“If you doubt my intentions then introduce me to your father,” said Peter, the blood rushing to his head and making him bold and impulsive, though it was not as if either trait was foreign to him in any case. For years he had been keeping some control on his impulsive nature by thinking of his sisters, but now he had another consideration. He had realized himself in love, and just with all other things in life, he wished it to go as he pleased as quickly as possible. He had no shortage of energy. “I will ask for your hand from him, and put an end to all of your doubts about my intentions.”

“You would not,” said Charity, looking taken aback.

“Where is he?” asked Peter, standing and looking about as if he expected her father to appear from behind the drapes. While the whole thing might have been a shock to Charity, it had been building somewhere in the back of his mind almost as soon as he had met her, and now it exploded. “Do you have a church that you attend? We can go today to ask the minister if he will marry us.”

“The priest,” corrected Charity, sounding dazed.

“You are Catholic?” asked Peter, and he gave her a dazzling smile. “An amazing coincidence, so am I.”

“I fear you are having great fun at my expense,” said Charity.

“I assure you, I would not dare. What man would dare make such an offer, if it was not good in faith, to a woman already suing one gentleman for breach of promise. Your reputation would not be likely to suffer more for a second suite. As I could not afford any lawsuit, having thrown my career in little scraps of paper at your feet, I assure you that I am earnest. I humbly beseech you to become my bride. I have my mother’s ring, we can use that. Oh, and I suppose you will need a week or so to get your things together. I know very little about such things but my sisters assure me a woman must have household goods that she brings with her. Oh, yes, my sisters, you will have to meet my sisters,” Peter added, it was almost an after thought.