Page 27 of Snowflakes and Wallflowers

“It’s Jeremiah and Daniel from Castleton Hall,” Florence observed.

The two footmen paused to wave back before they continued unloading wood. Arthur had been so thoughtful to send them firewood since the repairs weren’t completely done yet and he wanted to make sure they weren’t cold. Matilda tried to smile, but her lips wavered. Arthur had changed, that was certainly true. He had abandoned that cold arrogance and need for pleasure at any cost. But because of those changes, she feared he would likely spend less time here, especially if he took his new position in the House of Lords as seriously as he was taking running the estate.

She sat down in a chair by the window in the drawing room and watched the woods. Snow was falling, thick flakes gliding through the air in a wintry dance. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up at Florence, a gentle smile on her face.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Matilda stared at her aunt in surprise.

Florence squeezed her shoulder. “I was ill, but I was not blind. You did something to convince him to let us stay here, and in the process you fell in love with him. I should have protected you better, from all of it, even him.”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “I have no regrets about loving him. It’s just…” She couldn’t finish. Her lips trembled, then she covered her face in her hands and wept.

“Oh, my poor darling.” Florence wrapped her arms around Matilda as though she wished she could become a barrier against all of the hurt in the world. But it was too late. Matilda had experienced life outside of Meadow Cross. She’d fallen for a man who didn’t wish to marry. It had begun as an act of necessity, even desperation, but that didn’t change what it had grown into. And it didn’t erase the pain.

“I’ll go make some tea. That always cheers you up.” Florence kissed the top of her head and left for the kitchen.

Matilda returned to staring at the snow, but couldn’t focus on anything but Arthur. Her memories of him wrapped themselves around her like a cloak. She was lost so deep in her own thoughts that she failed to notice the figure approaching the cottage. She jolted at the sound of the door knocker and then slowly rose, moving toward the door as though she were in a dream. When she opened it, she found a letter on the doorstep. There was no sign of the letter’s deliverer.

She retrieved the letter and stepped back inside. The parchment weighed on her, as though she carried a heavy burden in her hands. What could be the meaning of this? She broke the seal and stood there by the door, reading.

Matilda,

I am many things, but I never thought a coward to be one of them. Yet that is what I have been. I’ve avoided marriage, I have avoided love. And even now I am a coward because I find I cannot say these words to you in person, but I beg of you not to hold this against me.

I did not know how much it would hurt to see you go until I lost you this morning. I had imagined the rest of my life without you would be livable, but it’s not. You gave yourself to me for two weeks and I, ever the fool, thought it would be enough. You stole my heart and took it with you and now I find it hard tobreathe. I am but a shell of a man when I don’t have you, Mattie. I love you.

That’s what this coward wishes to say. I love you to the point of madness. You have been gone only a few hours and already your loss is like a chasm inside my chest.

Come back to me. Come and make an honest man of me. Be my Countess, my wife. Be the other half of my heart as I wish to be yours. I will take you and Florence to London and show you all the things you’ve longed to see. And when you are ready, we shall return here and stay at Castleton Hall as long as you wish. Let me live again by your side. Come home to me.

Arthur

Matilda tracedthe letters of his name, her heart pounding.

“Mattie, who was at the door?”

She passed the letter to her aunt. Even though Arthur’s words were private, she wanted her aunt to read it and understand.

“Well…” Florence folded the letter and stared at her expectantly.

“Well, what?” Matilda asked.

Her aunt rolled her eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for? Chase the man down! He can’t have gotten far!”

Matilda wrenched open the front door, but paused as her aunt grabbed her arm.

“Don’t forget your gloves and a cloak!” Florence said, thrusting the items at her.

She kissed her aunt’s cheek and then dashed out into the snow, pulling the cloak over her head and donning her gloves as she ran. She saw a distant figure disappearing down the path in the woods that led to Castleton Hall.

Matilda got close enough to recognize Arthur, only to realize he was mounting his horse to leave. She called out to him, only the wind had picked up, drowning out her cry.

As he settled in the saddle, she bent over and gathered a hefty handful of snow into a solid ball, then wound back her arm and threw the snowball at him.

It hit Arthur in the back of the head. But he hadn’t yet secured his feet in the stirrups, and so he slipped off the saddle, falling to the ground with anoof.

Matilda gasped and rushed over. She had only wanted to hit him in the back and get his attention. Arthur staggered to his feet and brushed the fresh snow off his body.

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