Page 28 of Yielding to Love

She picked up her paper and read, “Now I have loved you one whole day,—Or at least, vain lunatic, that is what you say,—For love is not love to you unless—It is something spontaneous, which we confess—At a weak moment, never felt until the words are said,—A newborn emotion, in languor bred.—In that respect, it’s true, I did just say—I love you, therefore, I’ve loved you one whole day.—If you were not so dull, I’d try to make it clear—A woman’s love does not just appear.—It is not generated in her lover’s arms at night—To fade forgotten or denied in the morning light.—If you knew how devotedly I’ve loved, and how long—You’d see how silly you appear, and how wrong.—All the excuses you’ve provided for a love well ended—Are your defense, my constancy need not be defended.—No better proof of devotion could there be—Than loving you till you loved me.—Your spontaneous, painless love for me was earned—By my longing love, so long unreturned.—And tomorrow…who can know—Whether your love will waste away, or grow?—My love, full-grown, has nowhere else to go.—Tomorrow, when I leave, and you ask why,—I’ll say, having reached its end, my love could not help but die.”

Silence fell. Crispin knew he should say something, but his chest felt knotted and his throat too tight to speak. Was there truth in her poem? Had she loved someone that much? A love that could not be sustained? Why should that make his chest hurt?

Harrington coughed. “Well, we have an obvious winner.”

Miss Harrington bobbed theatrically clumsy curtsies. An act. As though the poem meant nothing more than a quickly imagined response to Donne’s incivility. But Crispin wanted…he wanted to know more.

While he was struggling to find the right words to congratulate her, he grew aware of a noise. A knocking. The Harringtons did, too. They watched Mrs. Clay emerge from the kitchen to go to the front door.

A minute later, she came to them, the visitor trailing behind, looking footsore and weary.

Crispin said, “Adam!” at the same time Miss Harrington said, “Mr. Diakos!”

He bowed. “Pardon me for intruding. I’ve come at Major Taverston’s request.” He turned to Crispin as if awaiting permission to say more. But before Crispin acknowledged that he had written to him, Adam said, “I regret to inform you Mr. Cooper succumbed to the pox.”

Miss Harrington gasped. Crispin merely swallowed hard. More death.

Adam faced the colonel. “If you are still in need of an attendant, I believe Major Taverston will vouch for me.” It impressed Crispin that Adam could say that last without irony.

Harrington grunted. Then he rolled his shoulders in either defeat or apology. “I do need someone. Major Taverston has given us too much of his time.”

And now, Crispin thought, he was being summarily dismissed.

But that was a good thing. He glanced sidelong at Miss Harrington. It was.