Dear Sabrina,
I have only just received your letter. I am thankful that you have agreed to hear what I have to say. Here it goes: I am writing to you to offer you, once again, my sincerest apologies and to express the remorse I have carried since that fateful night in March.
I can still picture the gut-wrenching looks of hurt and disgust I glimpsed upon your face before you left. Your willingness to extend an olive branch to me is more than I deserve and could have hoped for. Whilst you can find it in your heart of hearts to forgive me, I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself.
I have been deeply hurt once before and you are right?.?.?. the lingering fear of it happening once more has caused me to forever be on guard. The type of agony I carried with me is one that I would never wish to afflict upon another person. I appeal for you to please speak to Leonora to explain further.
I understand if there are no further letters. I only wanted the opportunity to offer to you my apologies.
Your humble servant,
Lorenzo
I’ve forgiven you, Lorenzo. You shouldn’t be ashamed of having guarded your heart. I promise you that if you open your heart again, the right person will come along, and someday you will know what true love is.
Sabrina finished reading and placed the letter down on her lap. “Did you help Lorenzo draft this letter? It almost sounds as if he is attempting to model his letter after Darcy’s.”
“No. All of those words are his own.”
Setting the letter to the side, she looked into the bag and retrieved a worn leather-bound copy ofThe Language of Flowers. Sabrina cracked the spine of the book open. The cotton pages were slightly rough to the touch and the rim of the pages yellowed from the passage of time.
She stared at the brilliantly colored illustrations of children at play and detailed images of various flowers. Although there were a few age spots on the pages, she instantly knew this was no ordinary book.
“Is that an eighteen eighty-four first edition illustrated by Kate Greenaway?” Nora gasped.
Sabrina wordlessly handed the book to her friend. With the gentlest touch, she opened the book to its title page. They both knew how difficult it was to find such a rare book.
“It is,” Nora said.
Sabrina stared out the window in a state of semi-shock.
Why would the man go to so much trouble to obtain this?
She took a deep breath. With trembling hands, she opened the jewelry box to find a dainty garnet pendant necklace. The light shimmered on it in a way that made it glow an eerie crimson red.
This is too much. I shouldn’t accept this. The book was more than I could have ever hoped for, but this? I am at a loss for words.
“Garnet. The symbol of love and friendship and a favorite of Elizabeth Bennet. We are twins, it seems. I am the proud owner of a matching necklace. The perfect color to accentuate your outfit.” Nora extended her hand toward the case. “May I?”
She nodded. Nora made quick work of looping it around Sabrina’s neck. Sabrina’s right hand went to the edge of her collarbone.
“Perfecto.” Nora nodded in approval. “Andiamo, mon amico. We are going to have to walk with a little more gusto than normal. I was supposed to be at the Giardino Torrigiani five minutes ago.”
Sabrina snapped back into reality. “Go. Find a taxi. You shouldn’t run with your Guaneri.” She pushed her friend out the door.
Nora’s hand grazed the top of her violin case. Inside lay a priceless, three-hundred-year-old violin worth upward of sixteen million dollars, a gift from her father.
“I’ll lock up and be right behind you. It’s just a straight line down the Via dei Serragli?”
“I can wait for you. The concert won’t start without me.” Nora puffed her chest out.
Sabrina snorted.
We’re becoming more like sisters than friends. A Jane to my Elizabeth. A Marianne to my Elinor. Which sisterly duo would we be?
Sabrina closed the door behind her, locked it, and rushed to find Nora.
* * *
