The Captain's Letters

by Caylen McQueen

  “Another chance to woo you! I want another chance to prove that my affection for you is real, and that I care for you a great deal.” He started to sit beside her on the bed, but as he did, he realized it would be an invasion of space, so he crossed the room and stood beside the window instead. “I would like to spend more time with you, Miss Bowden. Give me another chance, and I promise you... we will move at your pace and not mine.”

  “My... pace?” Her face was blank as she slowly repeated his words. Phoebe was not proud of the way he rendered her speechless.

  “I will not touch you unless you ask to be touched,” he said. “And I will not kiss you until you ask to be kissed. I will be a perfect gentleman around you, because a perfect gentleman is nothing less than you deserve. It could prove a challenge for a rogue such as myself, but you are well worth the effort.”

  “Am I worth it?” She did not believe him. “I am plain and boring and--”

  “Beautiful,” Augustus was quick to correct her. “Ever since the first moment I saw you, I thought you were beautiful. You are shy and kind and timid and adorable... and I am determined to be a better man for you.”

  Phoebe could hardly believe her ears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a dark voice whispered: this is a dream, for it could not possibly be real. To hear a beautiful man say such wonderful things to her seemed far beyond reality. To have a rake stand before her and vow to change sounded like something that might happen in a work of fiction, or possibly a fairy tale. She refused to believe she could actually inspire such feelings in him. “But surely...” she began. “surely there are others more worthy of your affection? Surely there are other women... women more beautiful than I am, who you would--”

  “There are no other women,” Augustus interrupted her. “Honestly, Miss Bowden... I want only you.”

  Phoebe discreetly pinched her leg. If it was a dream, as she suspected it was, surely the pinch would awaken her from it. But her strange reality persisted, and she had no choice but to believe it was true. “I am... flattered,” she spoke quietly. “Truly I am. I-I had no idea I would inspire such... dedication in you.”

  “I have every reason to be dedicated. You are a lovely young woman, Miss Bowden... lovelier than you know. And I hope, one day, you might forgive me for treating you so impolitely.” He suddenly strode toward her, seized her hand, and lowered his lips to her knuckles. “I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even after Augustus was gone, Phoebe felt incredibly light-headed. She felt as if the entire room was spinning around her, and her head was on the verge of explosion. She still wondered if she was dreaming—although she doubted she was, for even the greatest dream could not match the moment she spent with him. As she watched Augustus pass through the window and climb down the tree, her heart suffered a tremendous ache. She could still feel his kiss on her hand, which tingled with delight at having been pressed against his lips.

  Phoebe was desperate to be near him, to be close to him. Every thought that entered her mind was of Augustus, and that fact brought her closer to an undeniable truth: she was completely besotted with him.

  Without thinking, she hurried to her window and stuck her head outside. “Augustus!” she called to him—hopefully not too loudly, for she did not want to wake her family. “Mr. Wolfe, will you please come back? There is something I must say to you.”

  Augustus immediately turned around and sprinted back to the window. As he gazed up at her, he clasped a hand over his heart and waited for her to continue.

  “I... I have a request of you,” she said.

  “Of course, Phoebe.” Her name flew from his tongue even more readily now. “Go on.”

  “I-It is a simple thing really.” Phoebe was obviously reluctant to say more. “My request is... it is... well, it's more of a question, I suppose.”

  Her hesitation made him chuckle. “I must say, Phoebe... you are adorable when you are nervous.”

  “What I mean to ask is... is...” Phoebe's hands nervously tugged at the ends of her hair as she struggled with her question. Her fidgeting fingers ceaselessly spun the red locks, as if she was trying to curl them. After drawing a deep breath, she finally said, “I wish to ask you to kiss me, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Hearing her request, Augustus did not hesitate. He seized the tree and pulled himself upward again, scaling its height in record time. When he reached the top, he dangled from the branch, leaned toward the window, and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then they heard the branches crackle, which made Phoebe gasp.

  “Oh, please!” she moved away from the window and motioned for him to step inside. “Do not stay on the tree. It makes me terribly nervous. Climbing trees is madness, Mr. Wolfe... utter madness. And so very unsafe. It is so...”

  “To see you again, and to kiss you... it is a risk I gladly take.” Augustus reentered her bedchamber and closed the space between them. When his warm hand cupped her cheek, Phoebe closed her eyes and leaned against his palm. “You really are so beautiful.”

  “But I'm not,” she protested. “I have always thought I was plain. And you could have any woman you wanted! You could—”

  Augustus laid a finger against her lips, silencing her insults. “Please... I cannot bear to hear you disparage yourself in such a way. You are absolutely lovely, and you mustn't protest, because I am always correct.”

  She studied him dubiously. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed. And now... if I have your permission, I would like very much to kiss you again, Miss Bowden.”

  “Phoebe,” she softly corrected him. “I quite liked it when you called me by my name.”

  Augustus' fingers coiled through hers. He brought his face closer and whispered, “Phoebe.”

  “I adore you, Augustus,” she said. He was standing so close, she could feel his breath on her forehead, and the warmth of it made her heart beat faster. “Everyone warned me against falling for you... and yet, as improbable as it is, I could not stop my heart from feeling what it feels. Loving you is madness, but I--”

  “Loving me?” One of his blonde eyebrows was raised by the word.

  “I... w-well... perhaps it is too soon to... I-I mean to say, I--”

  As she stammered helplessly through her sentence, Augustus shook his head and chuckled. “Phoebe, you needn't make excuses. I quite like the thought of you loving me,” he told her. “It is especially reassuring to hear how much you care for me, seeing as I have fallen for you as well.”

  “You... have fallen for me?” Phoebe could feel her knees wavering at the thought.

  “I have.”

  Augustus gave her hand a slight squeeze as he stared into her eyes. He leaned toward her, so close that he could smell the scent of vanilla on her skin. First, his lips grazed her jaw, then brushed against her chin. Then he pressed them against her nose, which was tiny and freckled. He kept them there a bit too long, but her nose was too adorable to resist. At long last, his mouth finally found hers. His tongue flitted out to tease her lips as he deepened the kiss. Phoebe coiled her fingers through his hair, gripping it as though her life depended on it. He kissed her again and again, and when he finally let her catch a breath, he whispered words that very nearly made her swoon.

  “I love you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  And though I draw ever closer to death, I find myself realising how fortunate I am. The truly unfortunate are those who have died without knowing what it is to be in love. I had you, I had love, and because of it, mine was the greatest life I could have hoped for.

  You are a treasure, Marie, and let no one tell you otherwise. You deserve all the happiness a life can offer, and if that means finding happiness with someone else, I would be happy for you. But should you find another man, make certain he knows the value of what he has. I want him to love you as I love you, and you should accept nothing less.

  “Miss Sutton?”

  When she heard her name, Marie glanced up from her l
etter. There were tears in her eyes, but she hoped the young man sitting beside her did not notice. “Yes, Mr. Rhodes?”

  “Might I have a moment with your niece?” he asked. “Alone?”

  Marie exchanged glances with Phoebe, and in that moment, they both knew what was to come. And though her niece looked apprehensive, Marie answered, “Indeed.” Her lips stretched into a tight-lipped smile as she rose from the settee and moved to the door. “Should you require anything of me, Phoebe, I will wait in the hall.”

  Phoebe said nothing, she simply nodded. She could not even bring herself to glance in Edward's direction, fearing her eyes might betray how she felt. She could guess what he was going to say and it would be, without question, a most terrible moment of her life.

  “Miss Bowden...” Edward rose from his seat and moved closer to her. His hands were trembling, so he shoved them behind his back. “You must know that I... that I have great affection for you.”

  “Oh dear...” Phoebe muttered the words so softly, she doubted he even heard her speak. “Oh dear, oh dear...”

  “Even when we met as children, I believe I knew...” Edward continued, “I knew it was a moment that would forever change my life. Meeting you was a day that stuck in my memory like no other. And each time I'm near you, I am more and more convinced.”

  “Convinced of... what, Mr. Rhodes?” All traces of color drained from her face as she spoke.

  “I am more convinced of us,” he said. “I am convinced that you are special, that we belong together. I am convinced...” As he spoke, he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her. When he seized her hand, Phoebe gasped and groaned. “I am convinced that you are my perfect wife.”

  For a moment, Phoebe chewed on her lower lip, unsure of what to say. “Your... wife, Mr. Rhodes?”

  “Indeed. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I believe you and I would get on very well together,” he said. “I take such pleasure in your company, Miss Bowden. I adore you absolutely, and I have made no secret of the way I feel.”

  “But you are very... young.”

  “I am. But so are you.”

  “Nevertheless, I... I feel that I hardly know you!” Phoebe already knew how she needed to reply, but she wanted to say it as gently as possible.

  “Then we must get to know each other better. As your husband, I would have that opportunity,” he said. “Will you give me that chance? You would, without question, make me the happiest man in the entire world! I care for you so much. I--”

  “Mr. Rhodes, I'm sorry,” Phoebe interrupted him. “Truly. I am. But I'm afraid I cannot accept your proposal.”

  Edward slid backward, as if punched, but he stayed on his knees. His lower lip dipped into a pitiful pout. “Well... why?”

  “Are you sure you want to know the answer? I would rather spare you the truth, as I am sure you will not like to hear it.”

  “You're in love with someone else?” he asked, and after a brief period of silence, Phoebe finally nodded. “With Augustus Wolfe?”

  She confirmed his fears with another slight nod. “Yes. I am afraid so.”

  “Augustus Wolfe?” Edward shrilly repeated the name of his rival. He sprang to his feet and threw up his hands in defeat. “He is an awful man! You would truly choose him over me?”

  “He is not awful,” Phoebe defended her beau. “In fact, he is really rather kind.”

  “He is a rake.”

  “I have heard rumors,” she confessed, “but I have seen only goodness in him, so I choose to believe he is good.”

  “You're making a grave mistake. That man will let you down. He'll ruin you somehow!” Edward sounded entirely convinced, but Phoebe would not be swayed. “If you choose him over me, I know you will live to regret this decision!”

  “I understand why you might believe that, Mr. Rhodes, but I am quite confident in my choice,” Phoebe responded resolutely. “And I choose to stand by him. If I have let you down in any way, I am terribly sorry.”

  “You have let me down.” Edward's eyes were narrowed as he charged to the door. “I believed you to be a woman of good judgment, and you have proven me wrong. So... good day to you, Miss Bowden.”

  He raced through door, passed Phoebe's aunt without a word, and left the cottage as quickly as he could. Edward reunited with his gig and fled the scene, determined to leave the embarrassing mess behind him.

  “Augustus Wolfe...” he grumbled the other man's name as he drove. “I can hardly believe it! Augustus Wolfe. He will break her heart, in time.”

  And Edward would not be there to mend it. He hoped—in that moment, at least—he would never cross paths with Phoebe again.

  He returned to his house, which he shared with his uncle, and left his horses with the groom. Edward had hoped to retreat to the drawing room and drown his sorrows in port, but the room was already occupied by two gentlemen: Julian Sedgeford and Joseph Morley. When he saw his uncle and uncle's friend, Edward snorted involuntarily. He hated to be rude, but he was in a mood too foul for company.

  Julian was sitting at his desk with a quill in hand, but when he saw his nephew enter, he returned the quill to its inkwell. “Ah... Edward! You're back so soon?”

  Edward poured himself a glass of port, downed it, and poured himself another. After a moment of silence, he answered curtly, “Yes.”

  “You have thunderclouds in your eyes,” his uncle observed. “It did not go well, I assume?”

  “No.” Edward drained his port and slammed the glass on the table. “But if you don't mind, I would rather not speak of it.”

  Julian and Joseph exchanged awkward glances. With a nervous chuckle, Joseph Morley said, “Women! They're quite hazardous to the heart, are they not?”

  “I would rather not speak of it,” Edward repeated harshly, then he fled from the drawing room before they could question him further.

  “So... I assume your wife's daughter rejected him.” As he spoke, Julian picked up his quill and saturated its tip in ink.

  “I believe so. Your poor nephew...”

  “He's young,” Julian said. “I am sure there will be others.”

  “Will there?” Mr. Morley stood beside the window and silently pondered the thought. “I'm not so certain. Some people never move on from first loves.”

  “Like Marie Sutton?” Julian suggested.

  “Yes. Like Marie Sutton.” Joseph stood behind his friend and tried to peer over his shoulder, at the letter he was composing. “Like you.”

  With a grumble, Julian disagreed, “I am nothing like Marie Sutton.”

  “Nonsense. You are everything like Marie,” Julian objected. He leaned closer to his friend's desk, stealing a glimpse of the words that he wrote:

  I long for your kiss. Even the thought of your lips leaves me breathless. Your kisses, like your love, leave me wanting more.

  When he noticed his friend spying on his letter, Julian asked, “What do you think, Julian? Have I captured the tone at all? Or is it vastly different?”

  “I still cannot believe you're doing this.” Joseph was sighing as he disapprovingly shook his head. “And I cannot believe I am allowing it to happen.”

  “You are the one who put the idea into my head, old friend. You said the letters mean the world to her... and since she means the world to me...” Julian's own reply gave him an idea. He dipped his quill and started writing:

  I am amazed that we were able to find each other in the vast chaos of this earth. There are so many people in the world, but to me, you ARE the world. You are everything. I wish I could fly to your side, to be with you during these final moments.

  Julian stroked his unshaven chin with the quill's feathered end. He was not like his brother. Fancy words and romance did not come easily to him.

  “We shouldn't do this, Julian,” Joseph weakly protested. “It feels... wrong somehow. It feels deceptive. Marie should know there are no more letters. She should be told.”

  “Why? Why ruin a good thing, Joseph? My brothe
r's last letter does not have to be his last,” Julian said. “I will continue to write them in his stead... and they will continue to make her happy. We are doing nothing wrong.”

  “Very well. But she must never know the truth.” It was against his better judgment that Joseph agreed. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Never.”

  PART THREE

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eighteen years later

  I do not fear death. Each time I close my eyes, I accept that they might not open again. I am not scared of what comes next, I am only sad that I shall never see your beautiful face again... and fearful that you might forget mine.

  As Julian dipped the quill, he closed his eyes and tried to recall his brother's face. If not for the fact that Charles' face was a bit like his own, he might have forgotten it entirely. Three decades had passed since his brother's death. Julian was now a man of five and fifty, and his forehead displayed the telltale lines of his age. It was difficult to imagine what his brother might look like if he had never died.

  Meeting you, my love, was the best thing that ever happened to me. The day you walked into my world was the day I started to live. You were my life, my reason for living. If I could have one last kiss of your lips, I would die a happy man.

  Satisfied with his letter, Julian returned the quill to its inkwell and waited for the words to dry. His nephew sat on the sofa behind him, disapprovingly shaking his head.

  “My devious uncle...” Edward Rhodes said with a sigh. “I cannot believe you continue to deceive the poor woman.”

  “It is, shall we say... a friendly deception,” Julian attempted to justify himself. “It is not a deception that hurts Miss Sutton in any way. If my letters give her happiness, they can only be good.”

  “You've been writing letters in your brother's name for... how many years? It seems so excessive. Will you, at some time, finally reveal that you have written the bulk of the letters?”