by Karen Joyce
“Oh, Aunt Olivia, Felicity has promised me on her return she will pamper me with a number of darling gifts,” said Marguerite, as she brought her hands together beneath her chin with a faraway aspect in her eye. “Already she has written that she has found the loveliest pair of gloves made from the finest Italian silk and a charming lace parasol.”
“And what of your brother, what fine things will she spoil you with William?” asked Lincoln’s mother, as she turned to her young nephew. Blushing from the attentions of everyone’s eyes within the room upon him, William lowered his head.
“I do believe William has expressed a great interest in some samples of preserved plant specimens native to the region,” informed Lady Winchester.
“Nature is a splendid occupation for a youthful mind,” said Lincoln’s mother, as she glanced at the window searching for their son.
“The unseasoned heart has a way of healing much sooner than their elderly counterparts,” said Lady Winchester, as she looked upon her daughter with apprehension for what her future may one day hold.
“Yes, but it is equally true that the inexperienced heart has a way of breaking much more violently,” added Lincoln’s mother with the wisdom of her own youthful years she had known long ago in another time. “It must have been a terrifying truth for her to withstand.”
“That it was, at first, but in time she came to see Fortescue for what he had done and no longer for what he had been to her,” replied Lady Winchester.
“And to think he was to be our son-in-law. I shudder at the very thought of our daughter married to that villain,” said Sir Winchester. “Bent as a nine bob note he was without an ounce of feeling. It puzzles the mind that any man or woman could murder another and one who is of his very own flesh and blood. Absolutely implausible to believe that avarice could be of such an unspeakable nature.”
“I understand Lincoln was there to witness the insufferable display of his execution?” asked Lady Winchester. “I’ll never understand what was in Felicity’s mind when she ordered our coach driver against my strong wishes, I might add, to attend the execution of his sentence. If only Lincoln had known she was there, he could have provided her with some comfort in her time of need.”
“There is one thing that I still find quite baffling,” said Sir Winchester, as he returned to his seat with his eyebrows gathered in a puzzled fashion.
“And what may that be exactly?” asked Lincoln’s mother.
“Well for one thing, how were they certain that the testimony of the maid in attendance was not simply a fabrication of the events?”
“Well you see,” began Lincoln’s mother, “She was cognizant of a valuable piece of information concerning the methods employed by Fortescue. It seems the maid had come by him whilst he was engaged in the act of poisoning the Duke’s supper with arsenic.”
“You mean to tell me she witnessed this event and did not have the good sense to alert the authorities?” asked Sir Winchester incredulously.
“It’s not a matter of sense but that she feared no one would believe her. You must remember, after all, that at this time it was believed the Duke had succumbed to cholera. So, as you can imagine, it would have appeared to be quite an incredible accusation for her to make and against a young man of noble birth and what we all mistakenly believed to be of such fine character.”
“But, surely, once the cause of death was known she was in a position to inform the police of what she had seen,” asked Lady Winchester.
“I can only guess at what was in her mind for her to allow things to continue as they did but, perhaps she was afraid she would have been implicated in the crime as an accomplice. At any rate, her conscience must have weighed upon her heavily, for she finally informed the police and sure enough, when they searched his rooms in London they found the evidence they required: a small, brown cylindrical vial of arsenic.” Everyone in the room gasped at this revelation, including those whom had heard these ghastly details many times before.
“That’s not all,” continued Lincoln’s mother, “It seems he had developed a nasty habit and had given to pilfering small items in varying degrees of value. Do you recall my son’s pocket watch going missing the evening we dined at Montague Manor?”
“Why, yes, I seem to recall the episode,” replied Sir Winchester.
“Well, it turns out that it had not been misplaced…”
“You don’t mean?” said Lady Winchester, as she brought her hand to her mouth in surprise.
“The authorities have surmised that he saw his illegal activities as a way to resolve his financial difficulties, until he found a way to resolve them once and for all.”
“As I live and breathe,” said Lady Winchester.
The Rinehart’s and the Winchesters continued in this fashion for some time before moving to the dining room to partake in an early supper, with the exception of course of Lincoln who remained outside standing upon the porch. He was recalling all the events that had taken place over the past months. Remembering how he had so desperately tried to keep the many threads of his existence from unravelling, to forget that his existence had been suspended within time and time was just an illusion. Hours passing like melting wax; expectantly awaiting the darkness to fall: for his candle to burn out. How different things had been then. How different things were now. Listening now he could no longer hear the wind through the trees, nor the gentle song of nature, nor could he hear that other sound that had moved through him like the rhythm of his soul: that of a broken man. All he could hear was the grinding sound of wheels as they turned over and over the loose dirt of the driveway, rumbling, reverberating within him; resounding again and again. Looking up he sees as a carriage draws near and hastens down the porch steps. Waiting impatiently for the carriage to draw to a close, he approaches the door and opens it. She has arrived at long last, he thought to himself as the figure of a woman reached out to take his hand and descended from the carriage. There she stood. This delicate creature like a fallen angel without wings. She was fashioned in an ivory and floral morning dress with long sleeves. The skirt shirred up into a gathered bustle with a small train revealing a white floor length petticoat with laced edging at the deep flounced hem. The softened bodice accentuating her petite waist led up to a high neck collar gracefully enfolding the delicate curve of her neck. Looking upon the harrowing beauty of her face, Lincoln understood now that first moment he had laid his eyes upon this maiden fair. It wasn’t just loveliness he had perceived, nor the seed of love, it was something much, much grander and something so simple all at once. It was all that life promised within another; realised within her. Their lives intertwined within the sacred union of marriage, family, the bearing of children and their legacy upon this world. It was life itself. Every dream, every desire and every hope. All of it could be found within this other to whom he had been bound before the beginning of time and would be long after it had come to an end.
“I apologise for keeping you waiting, I do hope I am not too late,” she said, as he released her gloved hands and closed the door of the carriage behind her. As he turned and looked upon her once more he understood the true meaning that was hidden within her words.
“It is I who is at fault and owe you an apology,” he said, “If only I had known how long I had kept you waiting all these years.”
“But, Lincoln, how could you have known. We were so young and our paths were not destined to cross again, until all those years that kept us apart had finally passed.” Lincoln felt the weight of them now and an anger rose up from within him for what she had endured. All those years. Too many years. She reached out her hand to him, but he turned away from her touch. He had failed her too many times and though he had wanted so desperately for her to come to him, when he remembered the past, as he did now, he felt ashamed of himself for how he had abandoned her.
“I should have known,” he said, raising his voice at what the past had done to her and at the world for what it had almost taken from him. “I’l
l never forgive myself for failing to protect you from him and for leaving you there in that cell…” he broke off, as the image reminded him of how close she had been to death.
“You don’t know what you have done for me. How you have saved me. You have been the only light in an endless night.”
“I just walked away and left you there believing that you would die.”
“Lincoln, you mustn’t say such things. You had no other choice.”
“I had a choice and I didn’t choose you.”
“Don’t you see, Lincoln, I love you more for what you did. What you sacrificed, no matter the cost to you. It takes a man of great virtue to be willing to pay the price you paid,” she said, as she reached out to him again. This time he didn’t pull away.
“I should have done everything within my power to free you from that place. And to learn of your innocence. How could you have let them lock you up in that cell and not say a word? How could you have let them take your life to pay for Fortescue’s sins?”
“What good would it have done? Who would have believed me?”
“I would have believed you.”
“But there was nothing you could have done.”
“I don’t understand how you could just give up on life so easily...on us.”
“It was not I who gave up, for life gave up on me long ago. All that was left was you and when I thought that was gone, I had no fight left in me anymore.”
“But when I came to you, didn’t you want to fight then?”
“It was too late then. My time had run out.”
“You should have told me.”
“And let you go on living knowing that I was an innocent woman. I couldn’t do that to you. No, it was better that you believed I was guilty for then it would have been easier to let me go.”
“Don’t you see Fin, I would never have let you go. You are always in here,” he said, as he pressed her hand against his beating chest. “You are so understanding…forgiving…I do not deserve you…”
“You are wrong, Lincoln. After what I put you through. I am the one who does not deserve you,” she said, as she lowered her hand. Lincoln reached out and took her hands in his own.
“After everything you have been through you continue to think of others and never of yourself. You have done nothing to me. Nothing at all.”
“But I must explain why I took so long to write to you,” she began, lowering her head from the weight of emotion welling within her eyes.
“There is nothing to explain. I would have waited for as long as you needed me too. I would wait until the all the water had dried up from the ocean. Until the sun burned no more and the stars fell from the sky. If you are there at the end, I would wait patiently no matter the length of time.” How he loved her so and how his words watered the seed of happiness growing within her heart.
“It’s important to me that you understand why,” she said, overcome with the depth of love within his eyes for her. “You must understand, Lincoln, I believed my life had come to its end and then to discover that it will go on. I should have rejoiced but though my body had been freed, my mind had not. I could not escape from the fears and the pain of what had been so close. Too close. For I had already begun to die, to prepare myself for that day and it took me a long time to come back to life again.”
“I understand Fin, for I died too and even now, seeing you standing here before me, surely we are in heaven,” said Lincoln, as he stepped closer to her, wanting to take her in his arms and never let her go. Afraid if he did, she would ripple and disappear like his broken reflection upon the lake.
“And to know that I, that we…” she faltered. Lincoln closed his eyes and lowered his head. He too understood all she said for they no longer needed words anymore, but sometimes though we know what dwells within the heart and mind of another there are things that cannot be left unsaid.
“I was too afraid to see you, to love you. For what if I lost you again,” she continued. “I had already lost you once and I didn’t know if I had the strength to face that unbearable pain again. And then when I pushed you away and your letters stopped, I had the most terrible thoughts.”
“Stop,” said Lincoln, as he raised his hands and grabbed her forcefully. “Stop torturing yourself. To stop loving you, it would be as impossible as looking up into the morning veil and not see the colours of the ocean or the stars in the rivers of the night. As long as there is rhythm within my heart, then you will know how I feel for you and when you hear it no more, then all that will be left is my love for you.” He took her then into his arms and they held each other and though so many had held each other and expressed their love not many had known what they now shared.
“I knew you would come to me when you were ready,” he whispered in her ear. As he held her he felt his love for her and he knew he would never love anyone as much as he loved her; and he would protect her no matter the cost or the sacrifice. He would give all the years of his life just so he could have one more day, one more hour with her. After an eternity had passed them by, Lincoln pulled away from her and looked into her eyes.
“I was so afraid that you didn’t love me anymore.”
“Fin, before I knew you in the flesh, I could feel you. The way my skin can feel the warmth on a summer’s day or the wind as it brushes against my cheek in the spring. I’ve always known you. The way my memories know the past and the way my heart knew the longing in your absence before we were even born into this world. For the essence of our souls are weaved together like the fabric that binds the boundless expanse of this universe to the infinite measure of time.” Lowering his head from the weight of his confession, Lincoln leaned his head closer toward hers, their lips merely inches apart.
“I love you, Fin,” he said, as her eyes held him in a place of endless peace. Then he placed his arm tighter around the small of her back, bringing her closer to him and placed his lips upon her own, kissing her long and deep, until he felt her weakened body surrendering within his strong embrace.
“Shall we go inside,” she whispered in his ear.
“I thought perhaps we could go for a light stroll,” he murmured, as he traced his finger down the slender line of her neck to the small hollow within its nape and placed light, feathery kisses within the secret place he had found.
“Without a chaperone?” she asked, playfully, as she ran her fingers through his dishevelled hair and kissed his crown, “but my reputation will be ruined and no other eligible, young man will want me.”
“That was precisely what I was hoping for,” he said, raising his head to meet hers with a wicked glint in his eye. “Then I’ll have you all to myself.” She pulled away from him in deep concentration, as if his words had caused offence.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” she laughed, as she ran from him into the wood through the Evergreens where the seed of their love had been sown.
“Wait,” he called, chasing after her, but he didn’t have to go very far before he caught her and when he did, he never let her go again. Not after they had shared a lifetime together and each of them changed in ways they never knew they would. Not when their love was tested by all the troubles of this world that seem insurmountable. Not even when being together hurt far worse than being apart, for then they knew what they would miss one day when their life no longer shone bright like the light within their children’s eyes, as they began to wane like the retiring crescent of the moon; and not even in the end when life had grown tired of them and death’s hand wrote the final page of their happily ever after.
The End
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