Page 87 of Courting Elizabeth

She moved away a few steps. I did not attempt to hold her back.

“I let you marry a certainty I knew to be false,” she murmured. “I should have spoken before the ceremony.”

“You had tried to show me your doubts. Then you lacked courage when you understood what I believed. I was hurt by your silence, but my pride had built half the misunderstanding.”

She turned back toward me.

“How deeply did I hurt you?”

“Enough that I had to lock myself away alone before returning to offer you my hand before your family. Not enough to regret having married you.”

Her eyes shone.

“And that night, you gave me a door I could lock.”

“I wanted the first entirely free choice of our marriage to be yours.”

The silence that followed did not separate us. It only forced us to look together at what we had made of our fears.

“I wish I had known sooner,” she said at last. “I am ashamed that you bore this alone. I am also angry that you chose alone how to bear it.”

“You are right on both counts.”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because I cannot accept your love while keeping the secret that has guided everything I have done to win it.”

I walked to the table and gripped the back of a chair, unable to remain still.

“After we left London, I started a journal and wrote down what I feared forgetting: how you take your tea too strong, your walks, the books you mistreat, the people you care about. I wanted to create chances to know you better. Too often, I confused attention with method.”

“Nothing that grew between us was sincere, then?”

“My intentions were. Your responses surprised me every time. I only wanted to leave nothing to chance—until I forgot that your heart could never be the result of a plan.”

I heard myself laugh, very briefly, without any joy.

“And yesterday, when you wanted to speak to me, I once again decided for you what you were going to say. No observation, no page, and no sacrifice could teach me to listen if I refused to hear.”

The fire crackled.

“There. Now you know what you speak of when you speak of loving me.”

She remained motionless so long that I thought I had destroyed everything.

When she spoke, her expression remained grave.

“Fitzwilliam.”

“Yes.”

“You confess to taking notes because you were afraid of forgetting what mattered to me, then making the mistake of believing those notes could replace me.”

“I wanted to master what could not be mastered.”

“And you never will.”

She took a step.