P.S. I Love You Page 18

  “Have you decided, then?” she asked as she looked to be nearly bouncing out of her slippers with excitement.

  Cora didn’t have time to consider why Nellie asked that or what more she might know but instead said, “Yes. I’m staying for now, but I don’t want the others to know.”

  Aunt Nellie’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “That’s easy. Just don’t fall back.” Just then the door opened, and her friends entered.

  Cora looked at the group and at Nellie. She would have to ask if she would be able to take Simon to the future. The possibilities flooded her mind. She wouldn’t leave him behind. He could have the best that modern medicine had to offer—he might get his hearing back, if that was something he wanted to pursue.

  “We’ve just a moment to get this done,” Nellie said, glancing at an hourglass on the table, the top precariously low on sand. “Stand before your portrait please.” She shooed them into place near the wall. “We don’t have any stowaways, do we?” She chuckled at those words.

  Cora felt a twist of worry in her stomach. Was she making the right choice? Her heart answered yes, a thousand times yes.

  “Not to worry now. I haven’t blown anything up in three days.” Aunt Nellie chuckled. “I also haven’t tried to send anything to another time that hadn’t first traveled here on its own. I haven’t mastered that yet.”

  “We were arm in arm when we fell through the portrait the first time. Do we need to do that this time?” Cyrus asked.

  “No, this time you have a bookmark of sorts to get you back to the same time and place together.” Nellie nervously looked at the hourglass. “Hurry now. Closer to the wall.” She pulled her waist purse open and gathered a handful of glowing dust, and then fisted her other hand into the pouch to get more. “Now, stand on one foot and place the other on the wall. When the light flashes, you’ll fall to the future.” She had a little sentimental look to her when she added, “I suppose I’ll see you there.”

  Cora shifted, but she didn’t place her foot on the wall. Her long dress concealed her ruse.

  Aunt Nellie cupped her hands together and squished them as if she was making a snowball. Only a few grains of magic escaped her grasp and trickled toward the carpet, their light blinking out as they fell. The ball in her hands glowed, intensifying with each compression of her palms. Soon Nellie’s hands began to glow as well, then her arms, then her entire body. “Here you go!” she shouted. Holding the tiny pulsing inferno in one hand, she clapped it solidly with the other. Lightning radiated from the collision, and blazing light flooded the room.

  When she pushed her hands toward the group, a burst of magic blew past Cora, and her friends seemed to melt into the mural like flaming molecules at light speed.

  They were gone. Aunt Nellie brushed her hands together, residual dust falling away.

  “Will they know I’m not there?” Cora asked.

  “Not if your plan continues to the end, but that remains to be determined by your choices. Myself in the future will take care of what they need to know if anything at all.” Nellie smiled and hooked Cora by the elbow. “Now, let’s return to the dance and that handsome man of yours. Shall we?”

  They passed by a few painting supplies still on a table. Cora noticed a faint glow from a bowl.

  “Oh, dear. I have a little magic left over.” Nellie pinched some dust between her finger and thumb and began sprinkling it on the table in the shape of a square. “You might need a wee bit later.” When Nellie waved her hand over the shape, a small purse lay on the tabletop. She scooped it up and dumped the magic dust from the bowl into it. “For privacy, you know.” She winked at Cora and gave her the purse. Then Nellie dumped the rest of the dust into her own pocket.

  “I do look forward to seeing Kaitlyn, Reese, Cyrus, and Jem,” Aunt Nellie said.

  Cora’s thoughts twisted, knowing that although they’d just seen them, her friends were a couple of centuries away by now and already being greeted by the modern Aunt Nellie, who will not have seen them in over a century since the time today when she sent them back. Crazy.

  Nellie’s excited chatter continued as they descended. “This is the night, you know? Such a big decision. The kind that changes lives—yours and his. That seems like a lot of pressure. Oh, but don’t let that worry you. In fact, forget I ever said that. You’ll do what you must. And so will he. It will all turn out tip-top in the end.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to send someone like your experiment?” Cora asked.

  “Perhaps,” Nellie answered.

  When they entered the ballroom, Simon was standing close to the door. Cora could see several mothers and daughters conveniently nearby in case he glanced in their direction, allowing them to approach or to speak to him. But he didn’t move until he saw her, then he extended his arms to both Cora and Nellie. After a few steps, Nellie muttered what must have been an excuse to leave, and Simon and Cora continued their walk across the room.

  “What if I were to claim a third dance?” he asked without stopping. “I didn’t plan tonight well. I should have saved one for after supper. I regret my greed at spending both my dances with you before. I blame the orchestra. Who would have guessed there would be two waltzes?”

  Cora’s heart flipped. It was an excellent argument and reasonable, too. She smiled, remembering his arms around her and her hand in his but still shook her head slightly. “Your mother might have apoplexy. I’d hate to cause her harm.”

  “Perhaps a stroll in the garden, then?” he offered. “Or would you rather stay and dance?”

  Her fingers put slight pressure on his forearm, and she smiled up at him. “I haven’t a desire to dance with anyone else.” Cora thought it a very pointed answer, but it was true. “If your dances are spent, then mine are, too.”

  Simon’s eyes looked at her softly. It was like he was finally at peace with his place in her life. His smile was warm as he led her through the French doors to the veranda and down the steps to the back lawn. Lamps dotted the entire field and illuminated dozens of benches set about for guests to use to escape the crush of the ballroom or the heat the crowding caused. There were hordes of people socializing there, too.

  “Maybe we could sit and talk.” Cora pointed to a remote bench being vacated by a couple. When they arrived, Simon gave her a moment to settle her skirt before he sat beside her. As she looked back toward the house, Cora saw Nellie on the veranda blowing dust toward them. The tiny particles glided around them on the windless night, and the crowds moved away to the other side of the lawn.

  He didn’t say a word, but Simon took her hand in his, and Cora leaned toward him. The moon shone like molten silver behind thin clouds, a sterling medallion high in the night sky. Simon leaned across Cora and tugged one small swath of hair from behind her ear, easing it out of the pins that held it, and twisted it around his finger before he let it fall over her left shoulder.

  His finger grazed her neck, trailing wonderful chills down her spine and sparking in her stomach. “It’s called a love-lock, though I don’t know why.” He began winding the tendril on his finder again. “You’ve worn one before. I liked it on you. Very much.” He twisted the length of it. “It teased me all through dinner that night. I wanted to curl it around my finger.”

  She held very still, almost afraid to breathe, as Simon’s finger twirled its way out of her hair again, leaving a perfect ringlet.

  “Did you receive my invitation?” Simon asked, his face very close to hers.

  “Yes,” Cora answered without offering any other information. She was fairly certain that Nellie had ensured their privacy moments ago. Were she to kiss him, no one would be the wiser.

  “And are you coming?” he asked.

  “I sent you a reply. You’ll have to read it yourself to know. If I say now, I’ll spoil your anticipation for the letter.” She kissed his cheek and stood. “Shall we stroll?”

  He stood beside her, and they walked along the rose path.

 
Chapter 17

  Simon

  Before removing his coat or loosening his neck cloth, Simon found and opened the letter. Cora had been right—his anticipation was intense to hear her reply.

  Dearest Simon,

  Yes.

  Sincerely,

  Cora

  Simon barked out a laugh. This was the answer she coyly withheld from him as they sat on the garden bench? Suddenly, he considered other questions he might ask that would warrant such a simple answer and greatly please him to receive. Would you care to dance? Will you come with me? Would you stay longer? Can I do something for you? May I kiss you? Would you be my duchess, my wife? May I hold you? The list seemed inexhaustible.

  He hoped that in the future he would receive many such answers from Cora. Then he read and reread her answer. Five words—each one seemed significant to him. “Dearest”—he hoped she chose that word carefully and meant it keenly. “Simon.” She didn’t use “Duke” or “Mister” or any other title that obscured who he really was. He wanted her to see him and the simple use of his name told him that she did. Finally, “sincerely.” He wondered which synonym could be substituted here and retain her emotional intent. Genuinely. Profoundly. Wholeheartedly.

  After savoring the message, he continued reading the postscript to the letter.

  P.S. As you know, I’m a good shot. Is the hunt competitive? It’s okay if it’s not. I just want to have my game face on if I need it. Are there rules I ought to know about hunting parties?

  My father thought it was important for me to learn to shoot and began taking me with him after my ninth birthday. My first hunting trip was for rabbit. We bagged a couple and took them home. He was a firm believer in two things: if you shoot it, you clean it, and if you shoot it, you eat it. That’s something I respect. I did both and felt such pride in my accomplishment that I volunteered to attend hunts with him whenever he asked.

  What will we be hunting? Whatever it is, we’ll be eating it. Now that you know my two rules, how do you feel about having me come along?

  My father and I spent many hunting seasons together over the years. I’ve bagged and eaten deer, antelope, elk, bear (very mild flavor), bison (not unlike well-aged beef but with an even richer flavor), and various fowl. I have only ever refused to hunt pheasant. They’re too beautiful to shoot. So I hope that isn’t what you’ve invited me for, or I will have to stay in the house and sew a pillow or something equally dull.

  Simon read the letter several times. The delight never faded. Before going to bed, he stacked it with the others she’d sent.

  The next morning, though strictly speaking it was past midday, Simon ambled past the door to the family dining room for the third time in an hour to see if Cora had come down for breakfast yet. Apparently, his sisters and Lady Atkins had entered since the last time he’d checked. There was no way he would enter now and risk getting invited to sit near them. He had a much more inviting plan for a breakfast companion. He ducked back around the doorway.

  Simon knew Cora was up, so he’d just wait for her to appear. He’d walked past her assigned bedchamber before he’d come downstairs an hour and a half ago and heard battle sounds. He’d smiled, imagining her exercising inside like he’d witnessed a month ago. She was small but fierce.

  He would soon have to leave Aunt Nellie’s house to check on some business interests on his way to returning to his home. That meant only one more day of Cora’s company before several days without. He’d make the most of it—riding, taking walks, games or cards possibly—whatever she’d like.

  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

  Simon spun on his heels to find Cora scooting behind him to enter the breakfast room. “No, you don’t. There will be no “Your Grace” or “Duke” or anything except Simon between us.” He offered his arm, and they entered together. He didn’t even tick his eyes toward the other women but led Cora directly to the sideboard laden with everything a guest might want.

  Simon enjoyed watching her fill her plate—ham, tomatoes, baked beans, mushrooms, eggs with crumbled black pudding. She sat at the corner of the table as far away from the other women as possible. Predictable and preferable.

  He carried his own plate, balancing the extra scones, and laid it at the head of the table across the corner from Cora, putting her on his right. As he did, two scones tipped on the edge but didn’t fall.

  “Oh, Simon, do come sit with us this morning,” his sister Georgia said overly loudly even for Simon’s hearing.

  It annoyed him that his sister would so blatantly ignore Cora’s presence. He hoped that in her exuberance to pair him with Lady Atkins, her manners slipped unintentionally. He nodded toward the ladies and managed the smallest smile. “Good morning. I’m afraid now that my plate is set, I dare not pick it up again. Since Miss Rey is likewise already sitting, we’ll stay. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  As Cora began cutting a piece of ham, he noticed that each of the other women had but toast and tea set before them. There were so many little things he loved about this woman. Before he and Cora finished, he asked, “Would you care to go riding today?”

  “Darn. I’ll have to say no. Aunt Nellie has arranged an outing for the children, and I’m helping attend them. We’re going to the river, so they can play in the water—really to have a picnic and fishing, but we all know how that’s going to turn out.”

  “Perhaps next week, then.” Simon tried not to show it, but he felt robbed of her company. He had received a message that he needed to leave earlier than he’d originally planned, so he could take a small detour to assess a bridge that had been damaged in recent rainstorms. At the latest, he needed to leave before evening. He was grateful that she had accepted his invitation to his home, and they were not parting company for a long period, merely a few days.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Cora’s touch to his shoulder turned his attention immediately to her. “Not really a ducal thing to do, so you’ll have to leave your persona behind and just be yourself for a few hours.”

  Was she challenging him? He was never more himself than when he was with her. Cora’s smile said she knew exactly what she was doing—that her request was just the thing she knew he’d rather do.

  “Thank you. I accept.”

  “Wear something that can get muddy. We’re meeting at the pavilion in an hour.”

  When the time had passed, the children ran ahead with Nellie and a maid as Simon and Cora followed the group. By the time they got to the banks of the pond, Aunt Nellie had tossed in a number of lines and had children settled in for fishing. Simon directed Cora to a simple wooden bridge overlooking the stream that fed the pond and pulled her down to sit with him on the edge.

  They sat silently, Cora watching the children and Simon watching her. She was sitting so close that her arm gently brushed against him as her feet swung beneath the deck of the bridge.

  The afternoon sun shone without clouds obscuring the sky—a rare thing that. They sat companionably for a few minutes before he asked, “You said that your mother was deaf. What was that like?” Simon worried that his condition would worsen with age, as hearing often did. How would he communicate with friends and family? Would he just be left alone and outcast? Perhaps he was hoping that her experience would give him hope.

  “I don’t know. Being Deaf was normal for my mom, and I didn’t know anything else. I could hear my dad, and I could see my mom.”

  “How did she get your attention when you were in trouble?”

  “I never got in trouble.”

  Simon laughed.

  “Well, she signed my name, or she waved her arms or stamped her feet to get my attention.”

  “Could she speak?” Simon’s question seemed to startle Cora.

  “No. But many who are deaf can. I guess you wouldn’t know the possibilities not having grown up around it. We used sign when it was just our family around. It was my mother’s language—it was her voice. Her hands moved in a way that conveyed the words that anyone could s
ign, but in a way that was uniquely her. If I could have seen only her hands signing, I would have been able to pick her out from the way they moved.”

  Simon noted the partial smile on Cora’s lips at the memory.

  “What did your name look like?” he asked, then immediately wondered if he shouldn’t have. “Is it too personal?”

  “It’s personal but not private—it’s my name. A name sign is given to you by someone who is Deaf. It’s highly personalized and carries meaning beyond labeling you. The name my mother gave me was—” Cora went silent and raised her right fingers to her slightly puckered lips, then moved then to touch above her heart. “That means Cora. She told me I was like a kiss to her heart.” Cora made the movements again. “I miss her every day.”

  “Did you have a name for her?” Simon asked. He wanted to reach for her hand but didn’t want to hamper her ability to sign the word to him.

  Cora nodded slowly, then raised her hand, placing her thumb near her mouth. Then she dropped her hand to touch her chest with her middle finger. “Technically, this means Mother,” she said as she touched her face again, her palm open. “And this means heart,” she said as her fingers swung down to touch over her heart. “But together, they’re my mother’s name from me. I guess I associated heart with her because of her reason for my name.” Her eyes misted over and she added, “My dad told me that as a toddler, I would just sign Mother for her. Then one day when I was four, I added ‘heart’ to it and never stopped or changed again.”

  She looked into his eyes, and he felt the intensity of her gaze. “It felt good to sign her name just now. We share the sign for “heart” in our names. It’s like we have the same middle name.” Her eyes had unshed tears in them. “It’s been a long time since I had anyone to talk to about her. With my friends, I use words. They seemed watered down in a way, without the meaning embedded in the movements. There’s comfort to feel her name in my hands and on my face and chest.” Simon noted a tear escaping the corner of her eye. “It’s more real to me.” She nodded, confirming that truth to herself.