“‘My father once told me that one should speak to business first before devoting time to sentiment. He claimed that it was both pragmatic and sincere, and so I am honoring that in this letter to you because you have always reminded me of him, and because, I think, he was right,’” Elias read. “‘So, first and foremost, let us address the reading of my will, which I presume you have now heard and are summarily raging about in some dark corner of the estate, either privately or at the expense of poor Hattie or poor Julian.
“‘I would tell you to stop and consider, but I know you will not read this letter until after a time in which you have done both, and so I shan’t. Only know that it is for your own good and I believe this marriage will make you happy, if you let it. All I have ever wanted, Elias, is to make you happy. And I am sorry that I never did.’”
He paused, frowning, and glanced at Hattie, the letter crumpling in his lap. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said.
She nodded, tossing the rag to the side and splashing the soap off her arms, and rose from the water immediately, dragging a towel quickly down her form and wrapping herself in the red dressing gown, all the while moving across the room toward him.
He sighed, wincing as she pulled the letter from his hands and took the seat next to him, tilting it toward the light.
“‘I could not be your mother because you already had one,’” Hattie said softly, her eyes moving over the words. “‘But perhaps I was something else that you needed. I hope I was. When you came to live with me, you did so under the agreement that the monies generated by the baronial lands would be by and large submitted to the discretion of your parents’ spending. At the time, I had only begun to build out the farmlands and investment properties along the grounds and agreed because I thought it best for you.
“‘You will find, when you go over the expenses with Mr. Harcourt, that they generate quite a lot more income these days than your parents are aware of. Please do not tell them. That is your money, Elias, and you will need it to continue to thrive in your barony. You may continue their allowance as an exchange for their absence, the details of which are enclosed in the estate documents. Or you may not. It is your choice.
“‘I also have provided a stipend to my father’s brother’s widow in the Midlands for some years. She was instrumental to my family’s success as merchants in her youth, and it is her rightful inheritance. I am asking you to continue to provide for her, but if you do not, know that she is a canny woman and has not spent unwisely in the years that she has received my provision.
“‘You are not obligated to vocally agree or disagree with these terms. You may remain silent, and Mr. Harcourt will take it as a signal to cease payments without judgment or rebuke. Your life is yours now, Elias, and I trust you will do well with it.’”
He made a little sound, a catching in his throat that brought her eyes up.
“Elias?”
He shook his head, reaching out to grip her knee as he pushed the spill of a tear from his cheek. “Keep reading,” he begged. “Please.”
She put her hand over his but obeyed, her heart aching beneath the silk he’d wrapped it in. “‘In this envelope you will find a ring. It was my father’s most-prized possession. He is wearing it in the portrait in my bedroom. There is a story behind it and it will explain to you many of the decisions I’ve made here in my most final words.
“‘My parents met as children, both the children of farmers in the Midlands many years ago. The story, as I remember it, was that my father had finally been entrusted, at the ripe old age of twelve, to oversee the egg delivery to the market and was carrying several stacked crates along the high street on his way to his family’s stall. My mother, meanwhile, was late to her first lesson with the village seamstress and was running at a tear down the adjacent avenue. He couldn’t see where he was going and she was moving too fast to stop. So, you can guess what happened.
“‘Despite the inauspicious beginnings, the two became fast friends and eventually fell in love. The story of how they met would always arise a similar, good-natured argument about whose fault the collision was, but not in the way you might think. They would both claim fault because their thinking was that whoever was responsible was ultimately the one who brought them together, and thus the orchestrator of their ultimate happiness and fate.
“‘When they wed, my mother gifted him this bauble, gold and fine and inscribed withMea Culpa. My fault. It was how they said,‘I love you.’I want you to have this ring because I want you to have that legacy. I want you to know that sometimes love comes at us with broken eggs and late lessons and that is well, even so.’”
Hattie stopped there, for a moment. Awe clashed with something a little heavier in her chest. She gazed over the letter at Elias, who was staring back at her, his cheeks now damp with tears he couldn’t push away.
He gave a little laugh, a thing of wonder, and looked down at their clasped hands, where the ring embraced his finger.
“Mea culpa,” he said, his voice thin and astounded.
“Yes,” she said, setting the letter aside and cupping his cheek with her hand. She used her thumb to brush away the tears there and leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the salt on his lips. “Mea culpa.”
She did not know if he meant it the way she did.
She did not need to know that, just now.
She just needed to let him hold her like this, as the lantern flickered down, and the letter sat beside them.
And at last they knew things that they hadn’t before.
Part VI
Punctuation
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elias woke beforethe lantern had fully extinguished, surprised to find they had both fallen asleep above the blankets and in their dressing gowns.
Hattie’s arms were wound around him, one hand tucked under the lapel of his robe and the other wrapped in the sash around his waist. He tilted his head down to watch her, breathing softly with the occasional, tiny snore escaping through her parted lips and pointy, little nose. Her face was buried so deeply into the pillow they were sharing that he was certain she was going to wake with creases down her cheek.
Why did that make him ache so inside?
