Page 10 of Charlotte's Story
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped.
Officer Hernandez patted my shoulder once, then turned to the rest of his team. “Let’s wrap things up here and move out. We’ll take him to the station to have a healer look at him there while we study the magical traces on him before they disappear completely.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I said, my head still spinning.
“Not at the moment.” Officer Hernandez’s attention snagged on an officer standing under the fairy lights on the path to Rosings Parks. “It looks like the officer I sent to check on Rosings Park has returned, so I'd better talk to him”
“Okay.” I nodded once.
Tessa gave me a quick hug, then she and Officer Hernandez started to walk away.
“Can I come to the station too? I don’t think I should leave Firth alone,” I said.
“I understand, but considering his state right now, it might be better to simplify this as much as possible.” Officer Hernandez gave me a sympathetic smile.
“It’ll be okay, Charlotte.” Tessa squeezed my hand. “He isn’t under arrest, and this way we can look into his amnesia.”
I sighed. It wasn’t like there was much I could do even if I went, especially since he didn’t even remember me. “Okay, but can I speak to Firth before you go?” The words slipped out before I even knew I’d wanted to.
“Of course, but you better hurry,” Officer Hernandez said. “We’re going to head out soon.”
I walked to the police car where Firth sat in the back, alone and forlorn.
“These blankets are 78% whisperwool,” he said without looking at me. “That’s good for regulating body temperature, and they’re remarkably plush and exceedingly comfortable. I like that.” His fingers smoothed the material with rhythmic strokes that seemed just a little too fast, like a broken metronome. “Lady Catherine uses whisperwool for many things. She says it’s hypoallergenic.” His voice was flat, almost detached, as if reciting these facts would keep him grounded or maybe erase everything that had happened tonight.
“Firth?” Despite myself, it came out like a question.
He tensed and grew still, but after a long moment, he went back to stroking the blanket, the motion slower now. Slowly, his attention rose from the blanket. His lips lifted in a small smile as he took me in, and a frown tugged at my own in response. Why was he so happy to see me when he was stuck in such a bad situation?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” he said.
“It’s Charlotte. Charlotte Lucas. Or, um, Charlotte Collins.”
“Charlotte,” he repeated my name softly, as if committing it to memory. He tilted his head as if the sound of it was as comforting as it was puzzling.
“You really don’t remember anything?”
“I remember a few things.” He paused. “I think.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
He frowned. “I remember a booth selling everlasting mugs and a Ferris wheel, but I’m not sure.”
My mouth fell open. That was from the Autumn Festival. “You’ve forgotten everything from the last few months?”
“I’m not sure. Some things before that feel a bit spotty too.” His hand twitched back to his cuff again, revealing a glimpse of a black mark on his palm. “Did you say we just got married today?”
“Yup.”
“Fascinating. It seems unusual for people to get married and not remember it.” He smiled, but then cocked his head. “I hope I do a better job planning our honeymoon next time.” His grin faltered at my pursed lips. “Not that I want us to get married again. Or that would be fine, I suppose, since I don’t remember the first one, but I don’t want us to get married to other people again.” He sighed and met my eye for the briefest of moments before his gaze darted away again. “Sorry, I can’t seem to get the words in the right order. Was I this awkward before?”
“Yes, you were, but that’s okay.” The necklace he’d given me before the wedding warmed against my collarbone, the tiny quill pulsing gently like a heartbeat. My hand rose to cover it, and I resisted the urge to smile. Now wasn’t the time for that. “Do you rememberanythingelse about tonight?”
His fingers slipped through his strands of hair and left them even more disheveled than before, but he paused halfway through the gesture like he’d lost track of what he was doing. “Not really. My memories feel fuzzy and incomplete.” He glanced toward a cluster of glowing white mushrooms that pulsed softly under a frosted tree as if they would give him answers. “I heard you tell the officers that I went to Lady Catherine’s today, which feels like the most normal thing I’ve heard since I woke up over that woman’s body.”
“Wait, you woke up over her? Like you’d been knocked out?”
“Yes, I don’t know what happened, but it sounds like I was hit by a spell and that might’ve knocked me out. The officers think it was from that woman—Dahlia.”
