Page 48 of Never Second Guess a Lord
“I might long to see your estate and gave you my word I would visit, but in light of circumstances, I think it best I stay away, after all,” she had said. “While it is one thing to take the chances we did here at my estate, it would be foolhardy to do so at my castle.” Her voice had grown softer, as though she loathed saying it but voiced it regardless. “It is far too close to home for you, Jacob. Your future wife does not deserve to begin her reign there, with possible rumors of my previous stay reaching her ears. That said, I feel it best that any future trysts between you and I be here at my manor.”
He thought that a terrible idea as it would vastly cut down how often they saw each other, but she remained stubborn about it. Right to the end as he kissed the back of her hand outside his carriage and longed to pull her into his arms one last time. Hold her until all his duties and obligations faded away and left only her.
“Write me, my love,” he murmured in her ear after kissing her cheek. “Write me every day. Twice a day if you can manage.”
She blinked back tears and offered a jerky nod. When his carriage finally departed, it was torture. Bittersweet, even though he knew he would be back.
And so their letters began again, starting with the one they had written each other the night before. Only neither possessed the same banter. Instead, there was poignant heartache.
23 February 1816
My Dearest Jacob,
This might seem, in its own strange way, more of a goodbye than before, but it is not. Rather, it is a farewell until next we meet. A mere goodbye until you return if you are still in need of female companionship. And always, but always, a welcome haven for a beloved friend.
I feel we have found each other in a whole new way. Love each other in a fashion that will sustain no matter its form. So, let our correspondence not be full of heartache but of joy and new beginnings yet again.
He wondered before he kept reading if those last few smudged words might have been due to a tear.
Whatever comes of our future going forward, know that I love you. That I will continue sharing my journey in Dalness with you. I will imagine you by my side on grand new adventures and loving and supporting me as you have all along.
Until next we meet,
Your Loving Prudence
While he continued writing her daily, he felt many of his letters would make her feel guilty for denying him, so he sent only the ones he deemed appropriate.
2 March 1816
My Dearest Prudence,
Apologies that it took so long to write again. As you know from the letter I wrote you our last night together, my love for you is undying and will remain such. Things are busier than ever, but you are never far from my thoughts. You are forever in my heart.
I will be embarking on another restoration project soon and long to tell you all about it. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on how I should proceed. In truth, they would be most appreciated as I value your input.
Your Loving and Ever Devoted,
Jacob
Interested in her feedback, he attached a form with all the necessary information, including his thoughts.
21 March 1816
My Dearest Jacob,
I cannot tell you how much it pleases me that you value my opinion. Upon looking over what you provided, I think you should proceed forward just as planned. You might, however, look into restoring the church, too, as it is the pillar of the community. That said, I could not help but notice the restorations are but a village over from me. Does that mean you will be visiting soon?
Again the last few words were smudged as though perhaps a tear had fallen.
In other news, I am pleased to share that my sister, Grace Howard, as well as her husband and wee son, William, recently visited. I believe I mentioned them to you? She is the one Like Maude, she is madly in love with her spouse. Something I could never have imagined before, but thanks to you, I now realize is possible.
Despite his unending desire to show her such wedded bliss, he kept with the lightheartedness of the letter and smiled at her using the Scottish wordwee. He imagined that she hesitated before continuing. Saw her trying to figure out just how to word what he had already sensed from her when she spoke of Grace.
It was poor of me not to visit with her and her family all these years. Especially my beautiful nephew. He is no longer the baby I once knew but a lovely, well-mannered eight-year-old boy. I suspect, however, he has a free spirit much like my sister, his aunt Abby, or Lady Abigail, if you will. Might it never be suppressed as I know hers has been by a husband three times her age.
Please do write me back soon of your restoration plans and where they might lead you. I eagerly await word.
Your Loving Prudence
