Page 15 of The Viscount’s Second Chance (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life)
N ora’s hands flew to her mouth and tears instantly flooded her vision. Thomas hugged her close and buried his lips in her hair. She felt his shoulders shake now and then, but he was silent as he experienced the same mixture of joy and grief she was.
Once they recovered themselves, Nora and Thomas began to explore. There in the dappled golden light was the very arch Beth had obsessed over for more than two decades. It was beautiful. With smoothly carved blocks and artful pillars, rippling stonework on the archway with a sizable keystone, it was nothing short of a work of art.
There, it had stood unbothered by the centuries, holding its secrets and biding its time.
“I can’t believe it,” Nora said somewhat shakily as she traced ancient chisel marks and admired the craftsmanship. The archway’s apex was high enough to provide Thomas’s tall frame room to pass beneath it; the width was enough to admit two people with room to spare. Despite what she’d said earlier, she now understood how The Lovers’ Arch might have gone unnoticed through the years. This part of the park wasn’t well-traversed. The trees surrounding it had to be at least half-a-century in age, if not more. Even if it had been seen, it was easy to dismiss as meaningless unless one knew of its origins.
“It’s incredible,” Thomas murmured appreciatively. “But…”
“What?” she asked, looking away from the graceful curve of one of the columns.
He rubbed the back of his neck in indecision. “How can we be sure this is the arch and it’s not just a coincidence? What made Beth believe this was the correct one from the myth?”
Nora pulled her lower lip between her teeth. There was only one way.
She stood directly beneath the keystone and brushed her gloved hand along the inside of the arch, feeling for any sign of carving.
“Be careful,” Thomas cautioned, reaching for her. “It could be unstable.”
She pushed on it and there wasn’t so much as a creak. “Seems fairly sturdy to me.” She tried not to laugh at the dramatic downturn of Thomas’s mouth. “Help me search.”
“For?”
“The inscription, of course! The story describes an inscription.”
“Hm. Like this?” He pointed to the definite curve of a letter, and then another. They worked together to brush centuries of dirt and moss from the angular lines of the carvings until they could make out the Latin inscription.
“It’s just as the story said,” Nora said breathlessly. Then, she was distracted by a flutter of movement on the breeze. Leaves moved across the earth to expose a scrap of cobalt blue ribbon. Crouching low, Nora brushed it free only to discover that it had been lodged beneath a stone. She shoved it aside to discover the ribbon was tied to an oilskin-wrapped parcel no larger than her hand.”
“What did you find there?” Thomas asked over her shoulder.
“I—I think it’s from Beth.” She carefully began the process of unrolling the parcel. It had been wrapped many times over in the water-repellant material to help protect it from the weather, but that also meant it took a great deal of patience. Her fingers were trembling terribly by the time she finally removed the perfectly dry, perfectly intact letter written in Beth’s hand.
Dearest Nora,
If you are reading this letter, then I am rather unfortunately deceased and you have made the poor decision to remain by my side (thank you). I knew from the first moment Mama brought you into the room that we would be fast friends; I just never anticipated the depths to which that love might flow. I will proclaim to all the angels your selflessness and kindness, and they will all be rendered completely unprepared for the utter chaos you and I shall rain when we are eventually reunited many, many, many years in the future.
I expect you will grieve for me—please do so, otherwise I shall be horribly cross with you—but I will also never forgive you if you don black for longer than one week and fail to move on with your life. Do not pity me, for I am no longer in pain; and I forbid you from retreating from new and wild experiences in my name. You should be well aware that I am no fool, Nora Allen. I know you turned down a second Season, refused suitors, and avoided travel all to be by my side. As a selfish child, I was grateful for it—I wanted your glow all to myself, of course—but, as a woman grown, I can see now how you denied yourself a full life all for my sake.
Most tragically, however, I can see how you denied yourself Thomas’s love for my sake.
Nora gasped and the papers trembled in her fingers.
I was not blind. I suspected your mutual affection for quite some time (why do you think I kept leaving you two alone and insisting you two practice dancing together?). I do not know what happened between you two all those years ago, but I saw on both your faces that it must have been terrible, indeed. I respected you enough not to pry, but know that my curiosity ate away at me incessantly. I pray that this rift was not for my sake and, if it was, I resent it. The last thing I ever wanted was to be a barrier to your life and your love. My greatest wish now is that you turn back the clock and reconcile. I know you are in pain, but Thomas is as well. Please lean on one another during this time and perhaps you will find your way back. If you do not finally take hold of the opportunity for your happy ending, then you are not the Nora I know and love.
You gave me more of a life than I’d ever dreamt possible. I know you were the one who convinced Mama to allow us to move to Town together. I know you were constantly conceiving ways we might still experience life within the confines of my health. You gave me laughter when I saw only despair. You treated me as a person when others saw me as only an invalid. There are not enough words in our language or ink in the kingdom for me to express the expansiveness of my gratitude and adoration for you. Just know that I love you, Nora.
Find your happy ending. Spread your wings.
Tears streamed down Nora’s face unchecked as she finished Beth’s final letter—the last one she would ever receive from her friend.
Watching Nora grieve was near to one of the most difficult things Thomas had ever had to do. Their successful location of The Lovers’ Arch and this final letter from Beth marked the end of an era. All he could do was hold her close and allow her to sift through her feelings.
For all the missions Beth had sent them on, Thomas realized they were not only a way to remember Beth fondly, but also to remind him of just how great a role Nora had always played in his life. She’d been there at the shopping excursions at Thorpe she wanted us together.” Nora dashed away a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “And I am so sorry that she will never witness or be a part of the life we will make—” Her sentence was strangled by a sob.
Unable to bear it any longer, Thomas shot to his feet and pulled Nora into his arms. “But she will, Nora. We will live with her in our hearts.” His throat momentarily clogged with emotion. “She brought us together all those years ago and we owe her for that.”
“I love you, Thomas.” She tilted her head to look up into his face. Her tear stained cheeks were pink from the wind and her eyes glittered from unshed tears, and, by God, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I will be your wife in every way.”
Thomas dipped to press a kiss to the top of her head with every ounce of tenderness in his soul. He broke the contact to look around where they stood. Though they stood in Hyde Park, the largest park in England’s busiest city, it was as if they were the only two in the world. Autumn flowers bloomed in their golds and burgundies and oranges. The leaves from the trees cascaded in the breeze like falling stars. They stood beneath the ancient arch carved from love by hands he’d once believed to be mythical. Beth had believed in this place—she’d known in her heart it had existed even though her eyes had never witnessed it. Her trust in it had guided her life and paid off in the end.
And Thomas knew what needed to be done.
“Let us recite vows here and now,” he said, smiling broadly.
“Here?” Nora laughed incredulously.
“Why not?”
“Because they will not be legally binding.”
“What of it?” Thomas lifted her hands and pressed them to his thrumming heartbeat. “Don’t you feel it? The magic of this place? Beth?”
Nora laughed breathily and nodded her head. “I feel her here.”
“Then I can think of no better place to honor Beth and have her with us than beneath this arch.” Thomas cupped her cheek. “I, Thomas Andrew James Bexton, take you, Eleanor Marie Allen, to be my wife. I promise to honor you and your dreams, to care for you even when you do not wish me to, to love you to my dying breath and beyond.”
Nora covered his hand with hers. “I, Nora Marie Allen, take you, Thomas Andrew James Bexton, to be my husband. I promise to honor you as you honor me, to care for you even if you are insufferable, to love you to my dying breath and beyond. I cannot promise to obey you in all things, so I shan’t lie.”
A chuckle bubbled up from his chest. “I expect nothing less from you.” He cupped her face in his hands and slowly, savoring every lessening inch of space between them, he bent to press his lips to hers. Their kiss began sweetly and then morphed into an expression of their passion and all the years of their separation.
Birds flitted over their heads, twittering and swooping, landing atop the ancient arch to stare in wonder at the scene below. An unseasonably warm breeze tugged at Nora’s navy skirts, swirling around the couple a multicolored cascade of leaves. The branches around them swayed like the arms of joyous celebrants.
If one listened closely, the whisper of a woman’s elated laughter might be heard beneath the rustle of leaves.