Lies and Letters

by Ashtyn Newbold

Never smile at him.

  Never stray from a business-like demeanor.

  Never let him touch my hand or face or arm.

  Never agree with him.

  Never forgive him.

  I added these few points to my list before leaving for the village. It was important that I had all my rules in order. This meeting was nothing but a brief business exchange. Clara deserved to be happy, and I would not allow anyone to stop that from happening. Especially not James Wortham.

  With nervous feet, I walked all the way to the village. The snow had been falling lightly when I left our cottage, but as I continued down the path, the wind blew harder and large flakes of snow hit my face and melted there, leaving me numb and red. I pulled up the hood of my cloak and kept my head down until I reached the market area of the town. Hardly anyone was out. I found myself nearly blinded by this unexpected and uncharacteristically wild storm.

  The first person that happened to walk past me, I stopped, touching their shoulder as they passed.

  The person turned to face me. It was a woman, middle aged with her hair down, blowing loosely in the wind.

  “Is Mr. James Wortham about?” I half shouted over the storm, holding a hand to my head to keep my hood from slipping off.

  She scowled, as if annoyed that I had stopped her to ask such a trivial question. Then she was gone, shuffling quickly through the thick layer of new snow. I turned to my right and left, looking for any sight of him, and decided it was useless. He must be home.

  So I rotated to the other direction and started toward his house. I cursed fate for making this happen, for making me venture to James’s house in the middle of a storm like a traveler seeking shelter. Besides that, I would be forced to be alone with him, which was never a good thing.

  I took deep breaths and kept my head down and the snow out of my eyes, recalling the route to his house without looking up to find landmarks. After several minutes, I spotted it, and rushed to the doorstep, cold enough to care much less about the awkwardness of the situation and the confrontation I was about to make.

  Knocking three times, I waited. The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears and the door opened abruptly, pushed by a gust of wind.

  James was taken off guard, seeing me standing there, but soon recovered and ushered me inside. He forced the door closed behind him, locking the freezing air and snow where it could no longer touch me.

  “Charlotte, what are you doing? You will become ill.”

  I was confused. I thought he would be much more angry than he was.

  He reached toward the coat hook beside the door and removed his coat that was hanging there and slung it over my shoulders. Why was he still being kind?

  “Come sit by the fire to get warm.” He gestured to the sitting room and I walked ahead. He followed and pulled a second chair beside the one near the fire. The silence was awkward as he sat down and crossed his arms. “What the devil were you doing out in a storm like that?” His voice was calm, but he showed genuine concern. I wondered why.

  “I needed to see you. To speak with you.” My voice was much too quick.

  He smiled, but it was halfhearted. “What could you possibly want to speak with me about?”

  “I want to know why you have turned your brother against Clara.” I gave him the hardest look I could manage.

  He didn’t deny it, but leaned forward in his chair, so close that I could see the flecks of gray in his eyes. “I care about my brother, and I don’t want him to be hurt.”

  My jaw dropped and I leaned back in my chair quickly, in part to emphasize my words and in part to put distance between us so I could think clearly. “To separate the two of them is the only thing that can hurt him. Do you understand how it is breaking my sister’s heart? She is not trying to win his fortune or title. She loves him! You are not protecting your brother by keeping him from her. If he cares for her in return, then let him.”

  “Perhaps I was protecting him from precisely that. He loved his wife once, and he lost her. It is better to not love at all than to experience the pain that always follows. It isn’t worth it.” His voice was throaty and full of doubt.

  I was even more angry now. “You knew he loved her, and she loved him, and still you turned him against her?”

  He shook his head. “It was not my choice. I merely told him the truth about why you ended up here, and he has chosen to spare himself the disappointment of love.”

  “But they will be happy together! Clara has never wanted anything more. When love is true and good, doesn’t it bring happiness?”

  His gaze was hard and unrelenting. “I have never seen it.”

  I paused, letting the silence and power of his words settle. My heart beat loudly and the anger boiling in my veins fell to a simmer. “Nor have I.”

  My gaze locked on his and my heart threatened to burst. The flames from the fireplace reflected dancing shadows on his face. The air between us was taut with misunderstanding and heartbreak—desperation to understand … something. I breathed in slowly, drawing closer to him against my will. No. I leaned back, feigning calm and telling my heart to slow down.

  James’s eyes flickered over my face one more time and he ran his hand over his hair. “If you are sure, then let your sister prove it to him. Change his mind.”

  “How does she do that?” I scowled.

  “That is for her to decide. There are a number of things she could do to show him she loves him. And if my brother truly loves her, he will stop at nothing to win her back.”

  Clara would know what to do, but if James had ideas, I wanted to hear them. “What could she do?” I gave a shaky smile.

  His gaze focused on my face again, and I felt my heart pound harder. How could he affect me with something so simple as a look? Never let him see how he affects you. I lifted my chin and looked him right in the eye, willing myself to look confident, although I didn’t feel it.

  “Oh, the obvious things. Simple things. If I loved you, for instance …” Without warning he reached forward and took my hand in his. Unfortunately I had forgotten my gloves at home, and he had chosen my ugly hand. I cringed through my beating heart and told my hand not to shake. How could he bear to touch it?

  “… I would hold your hand, like this, whenever you needed comfort.” He was so gentle, so careful, as he held my hand where it fit so perfectly in his. His thumb traced the scars with the softness of a feather. When I looked at his eyes, the softness there was more intense than before, burning me from somewhere inside. “I would share with you everything I have, every wish, every dream, every secret. Every hour and every kiss.” He was still holding my hand, but I refused to look at his face again, so I just stared at his shoulder, where there wasn’t a set of green eyes whispering things I didn’t understand.

  “I would write you notes, saying the things that are hard to say, and tell you how I adore you, and how my heart is yours. I would keep you close, and protect you from everything that is painful. I would whisk away all the sorrow, and all your burdens would be mine. And I would remind you how much I love you if ever you doubt it. I would keep your heart very safe, if I was ever allowed to have it.” I heard him draw a breath, slow and heavy. “If I loved you.”

  I took a brief glance at his face, trying desperately to hide the blush on my own. I was surprised to see the heartache flickering in his eyes, the muscle clenching in his jaw as he released my hand.

  He managed to bring up a smile, to excuse every word for something less than they had really been. But there was something alive and real buzzing between us and I wanted it. His words rang in my head like a chant, If I loved you. He didn’t love me. The things he had said had been mere speculation, nothing meant for my ears or my heart.

  “That sounds like an awful amount of effort,” I said, trying to smile back. My voice shook. “It is a fortunate thing that you don’t love me then.”

  His expression faltered, and I saw in his eyes one more secret, one I knew he never intended to tell, and I
couldn’t decipher what it meant. I wanted to know it. I wanted to know everything about him, in fact. I wanted everything he had said he would do if he loved me. My heart ached as I realized it could never be mine. He could never be mine. This was not my place, this was not where I belonged. Mama expected better from me, and so did I. There was no time for ridiculousness and false hopes. Besides, James had deserted love and I had forsaken it.

  His jaw clenched again and he looked down at the floor. “Indeed.”

  Awkward silence fell between us and I stood up, eager to escape the uncertainty in this room and in James’s eyes. I had accomplished what I came here to do. Almost. “Will you speak with him at least? Your brother. Help convince him how perfect a match he and Clara are.”

  James looked up wearily, smiling. “What a romantic you have become. I never would’ve expected it.”

  I put a hand on my hip. “It is not for me, but for the sake of others.”

  “A contradiction, to be sure.”

  I frowned. “Intelligent.”

  “Hypocritical.”

  “Thoughtful!”

  He grinned with amusement. “Nothing short of ridiculous”

  “I did not come here to be mocked.” I lifted my chin and stepped farther away from him. “I came here to help my sister, regardless of how it might make me appear. Now, I thank you for your time, but I must be going. Good day.”

  I showed myself to the door, and walked out into the snow that had calmed considerably. I had forgotten to remove James’s coat I wore in the house, so I left it folded on the steps. Shivering, I pulled my wet shawl back around my shoulders and hurried home. I didn’t know if any good had come from that conversation, but I believed Clara could win Lord Trowbridge back.

  If there was any good in the world, Clara deserved it. If love could bring happiness, then she deserved all of it. There were still doubts, but I whisked them away to a place I could forget them. A new confidence soared within me, and I made the decision not to run from James any longer. I would go to the Christmastide parties and have a wonderful time, and James would have no effect on me. I would keep myself from falling in love with him or anyone else. I was strong and intelligent and would achieve every single one of my dreams.

  Nothing could stop me now. Not a deformed hand, not a cottage in the North, and most certainly not Mr. James Wortham.

  Chapter 18

  “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

  When I returned home, I lit the fire in our cottage and warmed myself, waiting for Clara to return home. When she did, I met her at the door, eager to relay my exchange with James. “He did tell Lord Trowbridge why we came here! But there is still hope.” I gripped her hand. “You must tell him how much you love him.”

  Her eyes flew open wide. “No. I cannot do that! A woman should never proclaim her feelings first.”

  “But he doubts that you love him. The only way to convince him now is to tell him. He has seen it, surely, but there is no proof until you say the words. The hard things.”

  She pulled her hand away and moved to the chair in the sitting room. She fiddled with a loose strand of hair, deep in thought. “But I cannot.” She sat up straight. “No. I couldn’t.”

  “You must.” I took her cloak off the hook by the door. “Go back this instant and tell him.”

  She was clutching her face now, shaking her head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

  I walked over to her and put my hands on both sides of her head, stopping it from shaking. “You can.”

  “If it is so very easy, then why don’t you do it?” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Why do you not tell Mr. Wortham how you care for him?”

  My cheeks tingled with heat. “Because I don’t.”

  “I thought you had stopped with the lying. It is quite obvious.”

  “You said that before,” I snapped.

  “It has not changed.”

  I pulled my hands away from her and crossed my arms. “We are not talking about me, we are talking about you. I do not mean to say it will be easy, but it is necessary.”

  She shook her head. “You just want the family saved from ruin.”

  “I want you to be happy.” I looked her straight in the eyes, to make sure she understood. “If it is too difficult to say, then write a letter.”

  She seemed to contemplate the idea, pausing. “Fine.” She took a deep, unsteady breath. “But you must help me write the letter. You will know the best way to say it.”

  I threw out my hand. “Nonsense. How could I know? I am not a romantic like you.”

  She smiled. “That is the worst lie I have ever heard.”

  z

  We waited until it was dark to deliver the note. Clara and I had spent nearly an hour trying to decide what to write in the letter, discarding and rewriting and screaming. After several attempts, Clara was satisfied with the words she had written, and we sealed the letter.

  “There shall be no turning back now.” I swiped the note off the table. “I will carry it, but you will put it through the door.”

  “I will not!” She cringed at the high, nervous tone of her voice.

  I laughed, running toward the door. “Very well, but you must accompany me at least. If I were ever caught, then he might assume the letter was from me.”

  She followed close on my heels, looking close to vomiting all over the back of my dress. “What will I say when I go to work tomorrow? I will see him. There is no way to avoid it. How will I know if he read it? How will I know if his feelings are the same? How will I bear the awkwardness of the entire situation?” She was breathing fast.

  “Calm yourself!” I said through a laugh. “He will be overjoyed.”

  I handed Clara her cloak and put mine around my own shoulders and we stepped outside. A dull breeze carried flecks of snow through the air, invisible in the darkness. The moon offered just enough light, and we walked fast in the quiet, eager to accomplish our mission and get out of the cold and the fright of the darkness.

  When we reached Lord Trowbridge’s door, I handed Clara the note, and she took it, to my surprise. Her hand shook and her throat bobbed with a labored swallow. In one fast motion, she pushed the letter through the crack between the double doors, turned on her heels, and ran. Laughing, I rapped my knuckles against the door three times, to make sure the letter was received, and ran after Clara.

  We were out of sight before the yellow glow of candlelight made a rectangular shape in the distance as the door was opened.

  “I cannot believe I just did that!” Clara made a sound, a mixture of a cry, a laugh, and a squeal.

  “Nor can I,” I said, smiling. “He will love you forever, if only just for your daring spirit.”

  We slowed to a walk, laughing and breathing heavily. Clara looped her arm through mine. “If this does not work as you planned I will cut your hair in your sleep.”

  I gasped, rocking against her so she stumbled. She laughed and I scowled teasingly. “If you do that, I will write a new letter to Lord Trowbridge telling him how large his nose is and I will sign it with your name.”

  “He does not have a large nose!”

  It was my turn to laugh as we walked up the steps of our cottage and went inside. I hurried to light new candles in the dark, and warmed my hands carefully above the flame. I turned to face Clara. “I suspect you will be quite incapable of sleep tonight.” I laughed. “But you must get your beauty rest because you will see him in the morning.”

  She put a hand against her stomach and bent over. “I fear I shall be sick.”

  “Just don’t get sick all over Lord Trowbridge’s shoes, I beg of you.”

  She laughed, but it was stiff and abrupt. “How should I … behave around him? Should I just enter and wait for him to speak?”

  I smiled teasingly. “Oh, he will not say a single thing. Surely he will just step forward and kiss you, right there.”

  Her face turned scarlet and she sat down on the floor where she stood.
I laughed and sat beside her on the planks of wood. She pressed her hands against her face in absolute horror. “That cannot happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea how to … kiss.” She spoke the word as if it were poison. “Oh, I sound so very vulgar, do I not?” She sighed. “You must know. Surely you have kissed dozens of men.”

  “I haven’t.” My voice was quiet as if I were confessing something embarrassing. “I have never kissed any man, in fact.” I had always flirted and coaxed but I had never kissed. Mama had told me to keep from all physical attention until an official engagement was in place. I had no complaints. I had hardly entertained a single thought of kissing before I had seen James’s teasing grin and firm jaw and dimpled cheeks. Blast it. “I’m afraid I am just as ignorant as you in the matter.”

  Clara looked acutely surprised. She examined my face. “You are serious. I suppose I just assumed you would not have told me the story of your first kiss before … when we weren’t such dear friends as we are now.” She smiled fondly and reached for my hand, the ugly one everyone here seemed to prefer. “Thank you for all your help. I will arise early and you must assist me with my hair.”

  “Of course!” I stood, brushing off my skirts, and yawned. “I will be retiring now as well. Try to sleep.”

  She stretched her legs on the floor. “I don’t think it is possible.”

  I tipped my head down to look at her and smiled. “Just think—he is probably reading the letter as we speak, pacing the entry hall and running his fingers through his hair—”

  “Oh, stop it!” She dove forward and swatted pathetically at my ankles.

  I danced away, laughing until my stomach ached. I moved quickly up the stairs. “Good night!” I yelled, only once I was out of sight.

  “Good night,” she said in a voice close to a whimper. I shut my door behind me and collapsed on my bed and couldn’t help but smile. Clara was an absolute mess. I didn’t want to know the catastrophic effect love would have on me. But it would not be a pretty sight, that I knew for certain.

  z

  We arranged her hair in a simple twist, and as an added accessory, we used tiny shells Clara had collected in the sand our first week here. They were white and tan and small, wedged between thin twists of hair that led to the bulk of her hair in the back. Two long curls hung in the front, framing her face. She looked completely beautiful.