Page 20 of The Elusive Phoebe (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #1)

Chapter Fifteen

EIGHT OF THE LETTERS FROM LORD SMALLING

M y Dearest Wife,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer able to tell you these things in person, and for that I am more sorry than words can express. I had hoped we would have years together, that I could show you through my actions what I am about to try to convey through mere words.

I married you not just for the practical reasons your father and mine discussed, but because I had admired you from afar for longer than you might imagine.

Your intelligence, your spirit, your kindness to the children in the village—all of these things drew me to you long before circumstances forced our hasty union.

I know our wedding night was... interrupted.

What I could not tell you then was that I had received word that my work for the Crown had been discovered by those who wish England harm.

The choice before me was stark: flee immediately with you into a life of constant danger, or secure you somewhere safe while I finished what I had started.

I chose your safety over my happiness. I pray someday you will understand that choice was made from love, not indifference.

I have watched you from afar through trusted servants who report only that you are well and safe.

Know that every day of our separation has been agony for me.

I have written you letters I could not send, planned improvements to our future home, dreamed of the day I could return to claim the life I want with you.

You are beautiful, Phoebe. Inside and out. I meant those words I wrote to you, and I mean them still.

Your devoted husband, Robert

My Beloved,

I must tell you about the work that has kept us apart, though it pains me to burden you with such dark knowledge.

For the past seven years, I have served the Crown as an intelligence agent, working primarily to infiltrate and disrupt threats from Irish and French revolutionary groups.

It was not work I sought, but work that found me due to my language abilities and.

.. other skills developed during my time at Cambridge.

The Irish rebellion of 1798 was not the end, as many believe, but merely the beginning.

Cells of revolutionaries remain active, funded and directed by French agents who seek to use Irish discontent as a weapon against England.

My job has been to identify these cells, learn their plans, and provide information that allows the Crown to act before innocent lives are lost.

In the months before our marriage, I had successfully infiltrated a particularly dangerous group. I learned of plans for coordinated uprisings not just in Ireland, but in Scotland and Northern England as well. Weapons had been cached, French gold distributed, and a timeline established.

On our wedding night, I received word that my cover had been blown. Someone within the group—we never learned who—had identified me as a Crown agent. They were coming for me, and by extension, for you.

I had perhaps an hour to decide: take you with me into hiding and a life of constant flight, or place you somewhere safe while I finished the work that could prevent thousands of deaths.

I chose to protect you. It was the hardest decision of my life, but I believe it was the right one.

The northern estate where you have been staying is not a prison, my dear, but a fortress. Every servant there is a trained agent, every room equipped with defenses you cannot see. You have been safe because you have been guarded, protected by some of the finest people in service to the Crown.

I know this does not excuse the loneliness, the isolation, the fear you must have felt. For that, I am truly sorry.

Your husband, Robert

My Darling Wife,

I want you to know that the three weeks we spent together before I had to leave were the happiest of my life.

I know they may not hold the same memory for you—you were adjusting to marriage with a virtual stranger, after all—but for me, they were a glimpse of the life I hoped we would build together .

Do you remember the morning you played the harp while I read by the window?

You thought I was absorbed in my book, but I was actually watching you, marveling at your grace, your concentration, the way the morning light caught in your hair.

I have carried that image with me through every dark day since.

And the evening you taught me that card game your governess had shown you? I pretended not to understand the rules far longer than necessary, just to keep you laughing, to see that delighted spark in your eyes when you thought you were outwitting me.

I noticed everything about you in those precious days.

How you take your tea (one sugar, no milk), how you hum unconsciously when you're content, how you worry the edge of your sleeve when you're thinking deeply.

I noticed that you prefer the morning sun to afternoon light, that you have a small scar on your left hand from climbing trees as a child, that you always check the locks twice before retiring.

I fell in love with you properly during those weeks, Phoebe. Not the distant admiration I had harbored before, but true, deep love. The kind that makes a man want to be better than he is.

I had planned to tell you about my work gradually, to bring you into my confidence as we grew to know each other better.

I wanted to ask your opinion on whether I should retire from intelligence work to focus on our life together.

I had already begun making inquiries about ending my service to the Crown.

Then everything changed in a single night.

But know this: those three weeks with you were worth all the pain that followed. They showed me what happiness could be, what I was fighting to protect and return to.

I love you, Robert

My Dearest Phoebe,

One of the few consolations I have had during our separation is preparing places where we might build our life together. I have acquired and improved several properties with you specifically in mind, though I realize now I may never have the chance to show them to you myself.

Each property has been chosen and modified based on things you told me during our brief time together, preferences you mentioned, dreams you shared. I hope someday you will see in them the love that motivated their creation.

I have also ensured that each property has... special features... that will keep you safe should you ever need such protection. But I pray you will know them primarily as places of beauty and peace.

Rosemont Hall in Hampshire is our main estate—what I hoped would be our true home.

The music room has perfect acoustics and instruments I selected with your abilities in mind.

The library contains every book you mentioned loving, plus many more I thought you might enjoy.

The conservatory is filled with flowers and plants from around the world, but arranged to bloom in succession so that every season brings new beauty.

There is a room I have not allowed anyone else to enter—it was to be our private retreat, a place where we could escape from the world and simply be together. The key to that room is hidden in the music box on the mantle in the blue sitting room.

The Brighton cottage is small but perfectly positioned for the ocean views you said you loved as a child. I've had an artist's studio built on the upper floor, thinking you might enjoy trying your hand at painting again. The light there is extraordinary.

The London townhouse is grand enough for entertaining but with private quarters designed for intimacy. I confess I dreamed of hosting dinner parties where you could charm our guests with your wit and intelligence, then retiring to our private rooms to laugh about the evening's adventures .

I have also acquired a small property in Bath, thinking the waters might appeal to you, and a hunting lodge in the Lake District for times when we might want to escape society entirely.

All of these are yours now, to use as you see fit. I hope they bring you joy, even if they could not bring you the happiness I intended.

Your loving husband, Robert

My Beloved Wife,

There is something I prepared for you that cannot be simply handed over—a gift that requires discovery, adventure, perhaps even courage. I know this may seem cruel, like a puzzle set by a dead man, but I had my reasons.

Hidden throughout our three main properties—Rosemont, Brighton, and London—are pieces of something I want you to have. Not intelligence secrets or political documents, but something far more personal and precious.

Each location contains a piece of a larger whole. Together, they form not just a gift, but a choice. When you have discovered all three pieces, you will understand what I mean.

The first piece can be found at Rosemont, in the music room. Play the melody I had engraved inside your wedding ring—you'll find the notes written in small script around the inside band. The melody will trigger a mechanism I had installed.

The second piece waits at Brighton, visible only when the afternoon sun hits the artist's studio at precisely the right angle. Face the largest window at four o'clock on a clear day, and you will see.

The third piece is in London, hidden where only you would think to look—in the place that represents what I hoped our future would hold.

I made this a puzzle not to torment you, but to ensure it could only be found by you, when you were ready, when you felt safe enough to explore. And perhaps... perhaps because I hoped the search itself might help you understand how much thought, how much love, went into every choice I made.

Do not feel you must solve this puzzle immediately, or ever, if you choose not to. But know that what waits for you at the end represents my deepest hope for your future happiness.

Until we meet again, Robert

My Dear Wife,

I must tell you the truth about the people who have surrounded you, for I fear you may have misunderstood their purpose entirely .