If, by my folly, chill silence andpride,
I dimmed the star that once in thy heart didbide,
Then here I kneel, with humble breathimplore,
That your mercy lift me from death’s darkshore.
No honor mine, who shattered thytrust;
My pride lies broken, naught butdust.
I let my tongue be bridled byfear,
When truth, not silence, thou didst deserve tohear.
Yet know, sweet love, my heart was evertrue,
Thou art its liberty, its joy, itsview.
Recall, my dearest, our walks ’neath lilacskies,
Thy laughter like larks when the dawn didrise.
Oh, let not shadows steal that tenderbloom,
Restore me, I pray, from this self-fashioned doom.
Forgiveness! I beg thee but oneword,
That hope may breathe again where despair hasstirred.
Let mercy’s grace thy wounded heartemploy,
And I shall prove my love with steadfastjoy.
For what is life, if not to love theestill?
And what am I, if not absolved by thywill?
Speak, beloved, and grant me but thisgrace—
To live redeemed within thy fondembrace.
“Bah! Most contrite, indeed.” But his words touched her more than they should, making tears escape before she could stop them.Do not be such a fool.She squinted her eyes tightly shut and swiped the tears away. Whatever should she do? This poem captured her soul even more fiercely than his ode to her coddled eggs.
Fierce like a lioness. Not cowardly like a mouse.She clutched the poem to her heart, wanting to be courageous but not wanting to be a fool.
In their letters, her sisters had stressed that Drake’s lies of omission were out of fear that he might lose her and not merely because of her dowry, which he had denounced, and remained firm on that count. The gossip about his proposing to other women had proven to be just that—gossip. He couldn’t very well control what others said abouthim. And as each of her siblings had so boldly pointed out, if he had not dived in front of her, the bullet he had taken would have hit her.
She stared down at the poem, knowing she would cherish it forever. “Drat it all, I do love him. What the devil is wrong with me?”
Tapping the page with her thumb, she made up her mind. She rushed from the kitchen, calling out to the scullery maid peeping at her from the pantry. “Please finish the bread. I have a letter to write.”
*
Still sitting uprightin bed with the lap desk beside him, Drake kept his focus locked on a crack in the wall across the room. Had Felicity read his plea, or had she tossed it into the nearest fire? “Let her read it,” he whispered to any benevolent entities who might be passing through. “Let the words of my heart touch hers.”
A tapping on the door interrupted him. It couldn’t be Mrs. Bean or Edmund. Neither of them ever knocked. “Come in.”
