Thank you for your letter. I am glad you were not frightened off by my deformity. Even moreso, I am glad you trust me well enough to reveal your identity to me. Elizabeth is a lovely name, and I am certain it fits you well!
My name is Adam, and you will have to forgive me for not revealing more than that. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, because I certainly do. The reason is that I am so ashamed of myself, I would not want you to match my face with my name. Part of the reason why I adore our letters so much is that I can hide behind my pen. If you never see me, I never have to worry that you might be disgusted by the sight of me.
I am honoured that you think of me as a close companion, and I feel the same way about you. You are the only person I have communicated with for nearly a year. Needless to say, you have become very important to me as well. I have longed for human contact, and even if we don’t come face-to-face, your words of comfort have meant a great deal to me.
I should not pity myself so much. I would not want these letters to be taken over by the doldrums. When I thought about what I wrote, how I went on and on about my scarred face, I realise it must have sounded terribly macabre and morose. For that, I deeply apologise. I would prefer it if our letters were more light-hearted. From this moment on, I promise I will not utter another word about my misfortunes!
So rather than depress you further, why don’t I focus on your questions? What do I like? Hmm… I suppose I like a great number of things. I like reading, painting, riding on horseback. I used to enjoy fencing, until I saw my friend lose his life in a duel. I am a crack shot with a gun as well as a bow. I wish I could say I played the pianoforte; unfortunately, I am terrible at it and I only play because my grandmother forces me to do so.
I like to go for walks in the countryside… at night, when no one else is around. Sometimes I sit in the grass, close my eyes, and listen to the sounds of night creatures. Have you ever heard a loon and mistaken its cry for a human’s? There is a particular spot, not far from OUR tree, where you can hear the sound of crickets in the grass, a babbling brook, the whistling wind. It is a relaxing cacaphony, one in which I indulge myself on a nightly basis.
What do I dislike? Fish! I detest fish. I think my aversion is a result of having been bitten by a pirahna when I was very young. Not only that, I despise the taste of fish, for I do not want to put in my mouth anything that smells of the ocean. Furthermore, I am not even a fan of the ocean, the sea, or any large body of water. I am sure this is an inappropriate topic, but have you ever taken a moment to consider the number of creatures that have relieved themselves in the ocean? For that reason, I refuse to set foot in the water. If someone asked me to dunk my big toe into the sea, I would adamantly refuse!
As for foods I do enjoy, I will eat anything and everything. Just not fish. NEVER fish!
Now, on to your other questions…
When I lie down at night, what is the last thought that goes through my head? To be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea. Sometimes I think of my time as a soldier. Sometimes I think about my parents, how they were often at odds with each other, and how much I miss them. Sometimes I think of the letters I have been receiving from an extraordinary young woman named Miss BB. (If you could see my smile right now, you would know it was true!)
There was one more question I meant to answer: If I could see one face before I died, whose face would I want to see? My dear, that is the easiest question in the world!
I would want to see your face, of course.
Now, might you indulge me in a few questions? What do YOU enjoy, Liz? Who is the most important person in your life? What memory do you hold dear in your heart above all others?
Also, I am wondering if you could describe yourself for me so that I might better envision your face?
I await your response.
Your servant,
Adam
* * *
Dear Adam,
I cannot even begin to tell you how relieved I am that I no longer have to refer to you as “Mr. Nobody,” as it had begun to feel like an insult. I think Adam is a wonderful name, for it brings to mind Adam and Eve. Now Adam and Eve are Adam and Liz. Would it be wrong to say I have wondered what it would be like to be Mrs. Nobody?
Liz reread her last sentence several times, and it was completely unacceptable. She was revealing too much!
She shoved her letter aside and started anew.
Dear Adam,
I cannot even begin to tell you how relieved I am that I no longer have to refer to you as “Mr. Nobody,” as it had begun to feel like an insult.
She decided to do away with the “Adam and Liz” nonsense as well. It was far too suggestive.
I do not fault you for not revealing more than that. “Adam” will do just fine.
This morning, I was forced to go on a carriage ride with Mr. R. and my niece. As I expected, Mr. R spent most of the time showering her with compliments, although he did take the time to comment on my colouring. Since I have been going back and forth to deliver and retrieve our letters, I have gotten a bit more brown. I would say this is a good thing, as I am usually as pale as a cloud.
I am happy to say I fully support his courtship of my niece. While I would prefer her to settle on a younger beau…preferably not one I have kissed… I see no reason why they should not be together. You should have seen her eyes when she saw him. He must have made my eyes light up like that, once upon a time.
Like you, I also enjoy reading and painting, particularly watercolours. I must admit, however, that I have more skill at sketching. I recently sketched a portrait of our butler, an old man with the furriest beard you could imagine! The beard was challenging, but the sketch was full of texture, as I am sure you can imagine.
I am sorry to hear you have such an aversion to fish. I spent most of my childhood on the Devonshire coast, where fish was a common occurrence at supper. Me? I prefer not to eat anything that could be described as “cute.” That would include chicken, duck, and eggs… especially eggs, because baby chicks are quite possibly the most adorable thing I have ever seen. Beef, however, is fair game.
As for your questions:
You asked me who was the most important person in my life. I believe that might be you, Adam, because I can think of no one else! I have very few friends. Most of my girlhood friends have grown up, married, and have families of their own. I doubt they have spared a thought for me in many years! To my brother, I believe I might be a nuisance. I get along well enough with his wife, Mrs. W, but we are more like casual acquaintances than anything. As for my nieces, I think they care about themselves and each other more than they ever cared about me.
So you see, there is really no one special in my life! By the time I reached thirty, I came to realise that spinsters are practically invisible! If I disappeared tomorrow, I wonder if anyone would notice?
Your next question: What memory do you hold dear in your heart, above all others?
When I was a child, I went with my grandfather to London, where he bought me many sweets and bonbons. We watched a marionette show, laid in the grass at Hyde Park, and went to see the horses at Tattersall’s. He died a few weeks later, and for that reason, I hold that day very close to my heart.
My second favourite memory is when I found my first letter from a certain “Mr. Nobody” not long ago…
And you wanted me to describe myself? I am afraid there is not much to speak of. As you know, I am the very definition of plain. My eyes are brown, as is my hair. It is not even a fetching shade of brown, rather, it is ashy and dull. I have often wished my hair was a deeper brown, like coffee, something more exotic. I have freckles on my nose and a few on my cheeks. My lips are so thin, they are practically non-existent! My eyebrows, on the other hand, are unflatteringly thick.
I suppose I should end this letter now, for fear that I might bore you into a stupor! If you ever have any sleepless nights, I invite you to reread some of my letters, for I imagine they would be an antidote!
D
o you mind if I say something embarrassingly honest? I no longer care about Mr. R… and the reason for my loss of interest is your letters. I no longer care about him because I care about YOU. I await each letter with bated breath, and when I find your replies, I am guaranteed a rapid heartbeat. Needless to say, I—
As Liz stared at her last few lines, her face was inflamed. She had already said too much.
I treasure your friendship very much.
She decided to end it with that, because she did not want to humiliate herself any further.
All the Best,
Elizabeth Wicklow
* * *
Dear Liz,
Elizabeth Wicklow.
The mere act of reading your name sends my heart into a frenzy. These foolish patterings of the heart, it has been a long time since I have felt them! Your words have an effect on me like you would not believe.
It seems to me, Elizabeth Wicklow, that I owe you more than just an “Adam.” For me to know your entire name, while leaving you to guess at mine, seems completely unfair. And since you are also the most important person in MY life, I think it would be foolish of me to withhold that information. My name is Adam Calloway.
But he could not tell her his title, Earl of Stokeley, because it would be too easy to guess where he lived. He was not ready to meet her, nor did he know if he would ever be ready to meet her. She might cower at the sight of him, and he did not know if his heart could withstand such a blow.
I am so enamored by you, I have memorised every detail of your penmanship. The way you cross your t’s and dot your i’s. The way your W’s are somewhat slanted. I have memorised every word, every letter, every sentence. When I close my eyes, I swear I see your face. In reality, I know you are more lovely than I could possibly imagine.
Oh dear. It was turning out to be something of a love letter.
“Oh well…” Adam whispered to himself. “Why shouldn’t I pour out my heart? If I frighten her off, so be it.”
He just hoped he wasn’t a fool.
“One that I have kissed”… that is what you wrote, in reference to your Mr. R. Every time I read that line, every time I think of it, my heart is consumed with jealousy. I have imagined, on more than one occasion, what it would be like to hold you in my arms, to kiss you with MY lips. I want to make your eyes light up, to make your pulse race.
I know I am a fool. My dream is just that… a DREAM. I will never hold you, never look into your eyes, never see you. I can never reveal to you what I am, what I look like. I must content myself with your words, these words that have come to mean so much to me. Am I wrong to believe there is underlying passion in your words? Am I wrong to hope you might care for me as much as I care for you?
Sometimes I lie awake at night, dreaming of what life would be like if we were together, if you could overlook my gruesome countenance. I imagine us painting together, sketching, riding horses. We would ride our horses to a lonely hillside, where we would have a picnic. You might rest your head in my lap, and I might read to you. I would even travel with you to the coast in Devon, and yes! For you, I WOULD eat fish and soak in the sea!
You no longer have to worry about no one caring for you, Liz, because I care for you more than I have cared for anyone. More than I ever cared for Miss P. To me, you would not be invisible. To me, you are the brightest star in the sky!
I want to kiss every freckle on your nose, to caress every tendril of your ashy brown hair. I want to
As the words poured out of him, Adam groaned. He was too far gone to end it now. He had fallen in love with a woman whose face he had never seen, and by god, he was going to tell her exactly how he felt!
I want to lose myself in your brown eyes, stroke your lovely thick eyebrows. From the way you describe yourself, I would assume you are a very handsome woman. And even if you are not, you would be beautiful to me.
If I have had any sleepless nights, it is because I lie awake at night, thinking of you. I long for you, even though we may never speak. I ache for you, even though we may never touch. I would trade my life for one blind kiss of your lips… where our mouths would touch, but you would never have to see my face.
I know this letter might scare you away, but it is a risk I am willing to take.
I am Yours,
Adam Calloway, “Mr. Nobody.”
Chapter Nine
The ball was such a crush, Liz could hardly breathe! However, her inability to breathe had little to do with the crowd and everything to do with her most recent letter from Mr. Nobody, whose surprising passion had a suffocating effect on her. She had read his letter many times, and every time she did, she could feel her heart ripping apart. She wanted to see him, to hear his voice, to touch him—but how could she convince him to come? It seemed he was determined to be a recluse.
Liz looked around the room, at the dizzying swirl of color, the myriad of ladies’ gowns as they waltzed around the room. She tried to find her nieces, as she was meant to be their chaperone, but it was impossible to spot them in such a crowd. She hoped they behaved, just as she hoped she could regain control of her lungs. The elusive Adam Calloway was going to be the death of her!
Was it foolish for a plain spinster of six and thirty to have so much hope? She wondered what it would be like to have him at her side, to have his comfort, to be assured a full life. Somehow, she needed to convince him the scars on his face did not matter to her. She needed to convince him that he was needed.
Adam was the only thing she could think about. He was the only thing that mattered to her.
“Miss Wicklow.”
At the sound of Major Rutledge’s voice, Liz froze. When she turned around, she expected to see Lorna on his arm. But he was alone.
“What are you doing over here, all by yourself?” Major Rutledge asked. “When I saw you all alone, I thought to myself… I should like to remedy that!”
“Thank you,” she praised him. “I admit I was starting to feel a bit like a wallflower. I think you are the first person to speak to me all night!”
“Such a shame… that the cleverest woman in the room should go unnoticed!” Major Rutledge clapped a hand over his heart. “It is an outrage!”
“Do not tease me, Arthur.” It was the first time she had used his given name since their reunion. “I know you do not hold my company in such high regard.”
“But I do!” he insisted. “After spending an hour in the company of twenty-year-olds, your face is very refreshing.”
“Why? Because I have wrinkles, and they do not?” Liz chuckled.
“No. It is because you have substance, which they sorely lack.”
“What about my nieces? In particular, Lorna,” Liz asked. “I hope you do not find her lacking?”
“Of course not. But she is not you.” Major Rutledge stepped up beside Liz, tucking his arm around hers. “If I was to choose a partner for discourse, you would always be my first choice.”
Liz tugged her arm away from his grasp. “Do you care for her?”
He raised a sandy brow. “Hm?”
“My niece. Do you care for her?”
“Of course I do.”
Liz crossed her arms over her chest. Not long ago, Major Rutledge’s prolonged presence would have made her melt. Now his company vexed her. “Then you should be with her, not me.”
“But right now, you are my Miss Wicklow of choice,” he said, taking her arm yet again. “I miss your companionship.”
“Major Rutledge?”
He leaned a bit closer, perhaps a bit too close, because he could not hear her over the pandemonium of the ball. “What is it, my dear?”
Her foolhardy question popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to consider the repercussions. Adam would not want her prying into his life. “Do you know someone named Adam Calloway?”
“Captain Calloway?” Major Rutledge asked. “I believe I do. I fought with him.”
“Did you know him… very well?”
“Not really. But I kno
w what happened to him. A damn shame, too, what happened to him.” As an afterthought, he added, “Pardon my language.”
“W-what happened to him?” Liz stuttered. She wondered how much her old beau would know.
“He was shot in the face. Can you imagine the pain and horror? I saw him after it happened.”
“You did?!”
“I did. It was terrible. I did not know him well, but my heart went out to him.”
“Really…” Though her shoulders fell, it did not matter to her. No matter what he looked like, she wanted Adam. She needed him. “H-how would you describe it?”
“Mangled. A hole. A twisted mass of meat, flesh and scars.” When he saw her wavering on her feet, he tightened his grip on her arm. “I’m sorry. I should not speak about such things around a lady.”
“No. It is quite alright. I did ask.”
“True,” Rutledge agreed. “But… why do you ask? Do you know Captain Calloway?”
“Just a bit.” Liz tugged at the high collar of her gown, because she suddenly felt as if it was strangling her. “Is it… his entire face?”
“Are we still talking about Captain Calloway? Why not talk about me, Miss Wicklow?” When she said nothing in reply, he had no choice but to answer her question. “Alright… no. I believe only one side of his face was affected.”
“Are you still in contact with him?”
“No.”
“Did you speak with him after it happened?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you know where he lives? Where you could contact him? If he’s—”
“No, no, no!” Major Rutledge grabbed her by the shoulders and twirled her in his direction. “I think we’re in dire need of a change of subject. Liz… would you care to dance?”
Liz grinned, pleased that she had found an opportunity to turn the tables on him. “No.”
“No?!” He cupped his hand behind his ear, as if he was unable to believe what he had heard. “Did you say no?”
“I said no,” she repeated. “I do not care to dance… with you, or anyone. It has been so long since I have danced, I know I would make a cake of myself.”
The Spinster & the Beast Page 5
