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The great barn at Heyrick Park glowed with the warmth of dozens of lanterns, their light dancing across the faces of tenants and dairy workers who had gathered for the harvest celebration. Charlotte Heywood stood at the edge of the festivities, her hand resting lightly on Alexander’s arm, acutely aware that this was her first appearance as the future mistress of the estate.
“You look nervous,” Alexander murmured, his dark eyes softening as they met hers.
“I am,” Charlotte said, returning his gaze with an honest smile. “These people will be depending on me, Alexander. I want them to trust me as they trust you.”
His hand covered hers, warm and reassuring. “They already admire you. I see it in their faces.”
Before Charlotte could respond, Leo came bounding across the barn floor, her cheeks flushed with excitement, Augusta following at a more measured pace, though Charlotte noticed the barely suppressed smile on the young woman’s face.
“Charlotte! Charlotte!” Leo tugged at her sleeve. “Come and see the harvest display! Mrs. Fletcher has made the most enormous wreath, and there are vegetables I’ve never even seen before!”
Charlotte laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along, with Alexander and Augusta trailing behind. The display was very impressive indeed – golden wheat sheaves arranged around pumpkins, turnips, and late cabbages, all crowned with Mrs. Fletcher’s elaborate wreath of dried flowers and herbs.
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte said warmly to the weathered farmer’s wife, who beamed with pride.
“Thank you, Miss Heywood. ’Tis been a good year for the harvest, thanks be.”
As the evening wore on, Charlotte found herself naturally drawn into conversations with the tenants’ wives, discussing everything from preserving methods to the challenges of the coming winter. She noticed Augusta standing somewhat apart, her posture perfect but her expression uncertain.
Moving to the young woman’s side, Charlotte spoke quietly. “It can feel overwhelming at first, can it not?”
Augusta’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’m.. not sure what to say to them. They’ve worked our land all their lives, and I… I’ve barely noticed them until recently.” There was shame in her voice.
“But you notice them now,” Charlotte said gently. “That’s what matters. Ask them about their families, their work. People appreciate genuine interest far more than practiced speeches.”
She watched as Augusta took a breath and approached Mrs. Fletcher, beginning a halting but earnest conversation about the harvest wreath. Pride swelled in Charlotte’s chest, thinking these were the small victories that would knit this family together.
“Charlotte!” Leo’s voice rang out again, and Charlotte found the child at one of the barn’s open doors, staring up at the night sky. “Look at the moon! It’s enormous! Why is it so big and bright tonight?”
Charlotte joined her, followed quickly by Alexander and several curious tenants. The moon hung low on the horizon, massive and golden-orange, bathing the fields in ethereal light.
“It’s called a Harvest Moon,” Charlotte said, crouching beside Leo. “It’s the full moon closest to the autumn equinox, and it rises just after sunset, giving farmers extra light to bring in their crops.”
“But why is it so big?” Leo persisted, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Well,” Charlotte said, warming to the subject, “when the moon is full at its closest point to Earth, which is called the perigee…”
“Peri… what was it again?” Leo’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember, and Charlotte ruffled her hair.
“Perigee,” she said gently, before going on, “so as it’s closest to the earth it appears much larger than usual. It’s actually the same size, of course, but being closer makes it look enormous. And when it’s low on the horizon like this, there’s an optical illusion that makes it seem even bigger.”
“Like how Papa looks taller when I’m sitting down?” Leo asked.
Charlotte laughed. “Something like that, yes.”
Alexander’s hand came to rest on Charlotte’s shoulder, his touch sending warmth through her despite the cooling autumn air. “You always have had an answer for everything,” he said, smirking a little.
“Not everything,” Charlotte replied, looking up at him, raising an eyebrow at him. “But I did pay attention to my father’s books on astronomy.”
The celebration continued for another hour, with music and dancing filling the barn. Charlotte found herself swept into a country dance, Leo on one side and Augusta on the other, while Alexander watched with an expression of such tenderness that it made her heart skip.
As the evening drew to a close, Mrs. Wheatley appeared to collect the girls. “Come along, Miss Leonora, Miss Augusta. It’s well past time for bed.”
Leo began in a wheedling tone, “I’m not tired, surely you’re not either, Augusta…” Her protest was somewhat undermined, however, when a yawn escaped her.
Augusta took her cousin’s hand, saying ,“Come on, child...” as Leo turned to head into the house, Augusta spoke quietly, “Thank you, Charlotte…“For your guidance tonight.”
“You did wonderfully,” Charlotte assured her. “Both of you.”
As Mrs. Wheatley shepherded her charges toward the house, Charlotte felt Alexander’s hand slip into hers. “Come with me,” he said softly.
He guided her away from the barn, away from the lingering guests, onto the stone terrace that overlooked the estate. The Harvest Moon had risen higher now, appearing a little smaller but still magnificent, flooding the landscape with silver-blue light.
“This moon of yours is quite something,” Alexander said, standing behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
“It’s not mine,” Charlotte said with a smile, though her breath caught slightly at his nearness.
“No?” His hands came to rest lightly on her waist. “I rather think tonight belongs to you. You were magnificent, Charlotte. Every person in that barn fell in love with you just as I did.”
She turned in his arms to face him, her hands resting against his chest. “I only tried to be myself.”
“Precisely.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “You have no idea what it does to me, watching you with Leo and Augusta, seeing you take your place here…” He paused, his dark eyes searching her face in the moonlight. “You are the light that has illuminated every dark corner of Heyrick Park.”
“Alexander,” she breathed, her fingers curling into his coat.
He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear as he whispered, “Do you know what I think about, Charlotte? When I lie awake at night, knowing you’ve agreed to stay and build a life with me, at last?”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “What do you think about?”
“I think about when we’re married.” His voice was rough, sending shivers down her spine. “When I’ll finally have the right to see you in the moonlight just like this… except without all these confounded layers between us. I cannot wait to see your beautiful body bathed in light like this, to touch you, to…”
“Alexander!” she gasped, scandalized and thrilled in equal measure.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing. “Too bold?”
“Entirely too bold,” she said, but her smile betrayed her as her hands slid up to his shoulders. “Say it again.”
His laugh was low and delicious. “You are going to be the death of me, Charlotte Heywood.”
“Not Heywood for much longer,” she reminded him.
“No.” His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “Charlotte Colbourne. My wife. My love. My…”
Whatever else he might have said was lost as he kissed her, and Charlotte forgot entirely about propriety, about the tenants who might still be lingering, about everything except the feel of his lips on hers and the way his arms tightened around her. The kiss deepened, became urgent, almost desperate. She felt all the longing of their months of separation and the anticipation of their future pouring into this one perfect moment.
She pressed closer, her fingers threading into his hair, and he made a sound low in his throat that sent heat coursing through her veins. His hands moved restlessly against her back, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real, that she was his…
“Oh! I do beg your pardon, sir…”
They broke apart to find Mrs. Wheatley frozen in the doorway to the terrace, her face scarlet even in the moonlight, one hand pressed to her mouth.
“Mrs. Wheatley,” Alexander said, his voice remarkably steady despite his labored breathing. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, sir! Perfectly! I only… Miss Leo wanted… that is… I shall just…” The housekeeper was already backing away into the house.
Charlotte pressed her face against Alexander’s chest, torn between mortification and laughter. She felt the rumble of his quiet chuckle.
“Well,” he said, “that was unfortunate timing.”
“Poor Mrs. Wheatley,” Charlotte managed. “She must think me completely improper.”
“She knows you have made me happy, and that will always endear you to her.” Alexander tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. His expression was tender but still heated, his lips quirked in that half-smile she loved. He leaned close once more, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Soon, Charlotte. Soon we’ll be married, and we’ll have all the privacy we desire. And then…” He pressed a soft kiss just below her ear that made her shiver. “Then I’ll show you exactly how much I love you.”
“Promise?” she whispered back.
“I promise.”
He kissed her again, softer this time, sweeter, and Charlotte knew, with absolute certainty, that whatever the future held, they would face it together—in moonlight and in shadow, in every season of their lives.