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Please know that I love you with all my heart and soul, and I would give my life to make you happy. I hate myself most deeply for causing you pain.
Jerome
Ava sat on the bed wiping tears off her cheeks as she read and reread the letter. What came through to her most strongly was his pain, and it made her heart ache to relive it. She sniffed and kissed the paper, whispering, “Oh, Jerome, my love!”
She heard a faint sound and turned to the door of his room where Jerome stood looking at her, and the ravaged expression on his face sent her across the room into his arms.
“Jerome!” she flung her arms around him.
“I’m so sorry, Ava,” he said, his arms pulling her tight against him and burying his face in her hair. “Can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, love,” she said softly, her hand coming up to stroke his scarred cheek. He flinched under her touch and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
They stood for several moments in silence, just hugging each other tight. And then he said, “I’ve decided to go to Ravenshaw. Do you want to come with me or go to The Castle?”
“I’ll come with you, of course. Why do you want to go?” she asked.
“I have to confront my ghosts. I’ve spent my life running away from things. It’s time I turned and faced them.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “With you I can do anything.”
She laughed. It came out a bit broken in the middle, for the emotions welling up didn’t know whether to become a laugh or a cry.
He glanced at the bed, “Did you look at your present?”
She shook her head. “I was more interested in the letter.”
“Have a look,” he said, guiding her gently towards the bed. She sat, reached for the box, and opened the lid. Nestled in white satin was a gold pendant of heart pierced by an arrow.
“That is what happened to me when I saw you descend the stairs at Lady Castlereagh’s ball. You were wearing jonquil silk and looked like golden joy and sunlight to me. I’ve loved you ever since, Ava. But it has taken me a long time to accept that someone so wonderful as you could love a man like me.” He dropped to his knees by the bed and took her hands. “I don’t deserve it and I don’t know how to be good enough for you, but please let me try?”
“Jerome, stop!” she said through the tears falling on her cheeks. “I’m no angel. Have you forgotten how often I have been in a scrape, and how willful and selfish I can be? I am not a saint Jerome, far from it. I’ve just discovered that when you love someone and they need you, you rise the occasion, that’s all.” She freed her hands to cup his face and kiss him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m you wife, for better or worse, remember?”
He nodded. “I remember.
“Good,” she said softly. “Then you can worship me with your body in my bower of flowers please, because it’s been weeks and I’ve missed you!”
“Oh, Ava.” He rose and pulled her up with him. In a few moments of flurried removal of clothing they were down on the bed and he was worshipping with deep enthusiasm to her even deeper satisfaction.
*
They traveled by coach, four days of a kind of foggy bliss, wrapped up in each other, and Jerome tried to not think about what awaited him at Ravenshaw. But as they drew closer he found the shadows and ghosts creeping forward in his mind more and more.
Ava squeezed his hand, dragging him back to the present and said gently, “Memories?”
He nodded. “Yes, sorry—”
“Don’t! Don’t apologize. You have a lot to deal with. I understand.”
He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you.”
*
When they drew up finally in the curving driveway of the large gray stone house where Jerome had been born and spent most of his childhood, he was surprised to see Kelham standing at the foot of the front steps shaking the hand of a big, dark-haired fellow, dressed in a dark-brown suit, which was clearly the fellow’s Sunday best but far from fashionable elegance. One of the tenants or a contractor working on the house? Repairs had continued in Jerome’s absence.
He opened the carriage door and leaped out, turning to help Ava down.
“My lord!” Kelham said coming towards him. The other fellow hung back but didn’t leave. “You couldn’t have received my letter—I only sent it yesterday.”
