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“No,” Leticia argued, “I never wrote you any such letter. It was you who sent me a dismissal.”
Richard scoffed. “Why would I do such a thing? What cause would I have to behave in such a manner?”
“You wished to end our courtship. It wasn’t real to you,” Leticia whispered. An uncomfortable sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. She looked toward Richard, and she could see that he was uneasy as well as he also shifted in his seat.
“Neither of us intended for our courtship to be real, but—”
“But what?” Leticia prompted as she scooted to the edge of her seat. Their knees nearly touched, but she was careful to maintain the small distance between them.
“You left me, Leticia. Letter or no letter, you were the one who ended our agreement.” He paused and tapped at the pocket of his jacket. “This all started because I wanted to fulfill my duties. I wanted to—”
“Bah,” Leticia cried. “Enough with your duties and responsibilities.” Furiously, she held out her hand. “Give me that list.”
She could see the hesitation in Richard’s blue eyes. His fingers went to his jacket pocket, but he continued to stare right at her. “Why?” he whispered.
“Just give it to me,” she demanded, laying her palm out flat. He slowly and carefully pulled the sodden page out of his pocket. He had it on him when he and Harry went into the river, so it was not shocking to see how the corners of the page stuck together. Gently, using the utmost delicacy, he peeled them apart, and then, he laid the parchment in her hands.
She brought the paper right up to her face. Since it was wet, it was difficult to read the handwriting, but she knew she must try. She read aloud, “Read the works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.” The snort of derision popped out automatically.
“You don’t like his work?” Richard once again made his surprised face.
Leticia shook her head. “You spent the whole of one summer toting around a book written by the lake poets. So, when you and Harry went back to school that fall, I begged my governess to share those poems with me.” She shuddered. “I’ve never read something so tedious as theRime of the Ancient Marinerin my whole life. Why shouldn’t the man have an albatross around his neck? He killed the bird needlessly. Who else should suffer the consequences?”
Richard held up a finger as if he meant to argue her point with his own counterpoint, but she shot him a look of disdain, and he lowered his hand. He nodded instead toward the rest of his list. “So, you’ve made a study of the lake poets. What did you think of Wordsworth?”
She rolled her eyes. “Need he go on and on about the splendors of the country? I read what is said to be his best work, but I found little merit in it.Lines Written a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey? Heavens, have mercy. I feel as though he could have stopped spinning his wheels after the first stanza.”
Richard smirked. “AndI Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, what did you make of it?”
“Better,” she admitted. “But I never understood why you cared so much for reading these poems as I found them dreadfully dull.”
“Yes,” he murmured, “I imagine you would. But for me, reading the works of the lake poets always brought me back to Pearl House and the summers I spent there…with you.”
For just a second, Leticia’s spirits lifted. She gazed at Richard across the carriage and wanted, more than anything, to beg the driver to change his course and head toward Pearl House so that she and Richard might be alone…in the country…together. But then, the carriage jounced, having hit a pothole, and her eyes went back to his list.
She scanned it, noticing the little check marks and the small notations he had added next to each item. Then, her eyes alighted on one of the annotations made toward the bottom. “Find a wife and—” She turned her head away unable to read any more. “Did you really need to write that down? You couldn’t simply remember that someday you wanted to get married?”
“It was a list of my future goals, Leticia,” he explained. “You must understand how important it was to me to put that in writing as it gave me a standard by which to measure my success.”
“Why do you need to measure your successes? Why can’t you just be happy?”
“There is a proper way of doing these things,” Richard began. “I hardly expect you to understand.”
“You’re right,” she said as her temper flared once more. “I don’t understand.” A wave of fury washed through her. She took the list in both hands and began tearing it into tiny pieces. “You don’t need this list.” She drew back the curtains once more and let the pieces float out the window.
“Stop the carriage!” Richard yelled as he pounded on the roof. The driver gave his own shout in reply, and there was a lurching sensation as the horses came to an abrupt halt.
“What are you doing?” Leticia fumed.
“I need my list,” he replied through gritted teeth. He made as if to stand, and she jostled her body in front of the door, blocking his path. It was awkward as the carriage was a little cramped, but she had to follow through with her point.
“Youdon’tneed your list,” she said, putting up one hand to stop him from moving beyond her. “I don’t care about any of those accomplishments…the pianoforte…the travels abroad…those mean nothing because I love you. The real you—the Richard who always loses at every race and who turns away to ‘preserve my dignity.’” She smiled softly at him. “I don’t need a list of ways to tell me what I know is true in my heart. I love you, and even if you never cross off another item on that list, that fact will remain unchanged.”
“You love me?” Richard whispered as he slumped back into his seat. She moved back to her own side of the carriage then and sat primly once more. She glanced out the window as she couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.
“I do. I suppose I have for many years, but I only just realized it.” She sighed and proceeded, saying the words that brought her agony just thinking of them. “But I understand why we can never be together. You do not love me, and you never will.”
“Why…how—” He faltered with his next words. “What would make you say such a thing, let alone think it?”
