How Do I Love Thee? (AFL, Round 4)

...I cannot count the ways

A perfect storm is brewing. While Patience has decided to put an end to her ruse, Damien's has yet to begin. A tempestuous trip to the park sees their machinations revealed, but as a lightning storm rages, both their love and lives could be at stake.

Patience heaved a great sigh and rested her head on a hand; with the other she resumed the muddling of her morning chocolate in its pot.

It was a lovely pot, she thought distractedly, silver with acanthus leaves applied at the feet and handle, restrained and refined, far more in keeping with her taste than the gaudy monstrosities cluttering up the rest of the house.

She poured a stream of the dark brew into a waiting cup, selected a slim triangle of toasted bread and leaned back against the chair. She dipped a corner of the toast in the chocolate and watched as it took the liquid like a sponge.

Damien had not returned last eve.

After that kiss and the affront that followed, she wasn't entirely sure she had wanted him to. What was more, she was no longer entirely sure she had the emotional wherewithal to maintain this game they now played, a game that she in all her naïveté had begun.

Dropping the toast onto the saucer, she sipped at her cup.

It was one thing to love from afar, to study a miniature and ascribe noble qualities to the gentleman depicted therein. It was quite another to be confronted with the reality of that gentleman, and all the flaws and foibles it necessarily entailed.

She returned her cup and saucer to their tray and rose, then wandered over to her dressing table and sat before the mirror.

There was far more to this love thing than she had anticipated, she mused as she took a brush to her hair. In the past few days alone she had identified much in his character that she did not especially admire, and while after a time such details might fade in importance, for the moment she had to admit that they gave her considerable pause.

But then again, she acceded, there was the distinct possibility that his behavior since her arrival was due expressly to the position in which her scheme had placed him.

Perhaps, in all fairness, he deserved the benefit of her doubt.

Patience stood and crossed to her escritoire. It was decided. She would send a note to his club suggesting a drive in the park. There she would tell him all and then, perchance, at long last learn the true measure of the man.


***

"Splendidly! It will all go splendidly!" Damien declared as he descended the steps of White's, Snydley and Crane at his heels. "I couldn't have asked for a better stroke of luck. We shall take a drive, I'll share with her the terrible news..."

Upon reaching his curricle, he turned to them.

"Do not forget," he told the baron as he pulled on his driving gloves. "You are to notify me as soon as she shares with you my announcement. You've helped her thus far, so I have no doubt she will turn to you for guidance as to her next steps in this matter."

Snydley nodded, but his mien betrayed little enthusiasm.

"And, Crane." He fixed his friend with a serious eye. "The removers are to be at the house no later than noon. I will time our arrival accordingly." He mounted the vehicle, and as he gathered the reins in his hands, curled his mouth into a mischievous grin. "Why the long face, old man? 'Tis but a small test of the depths of my dear wife's affections. If they be as deep and enduring as Snydley claims, my little ruse will prove but a minor obstacle to the course of our true love."

And with a flick of the reins and an exaggerated nod he set off to seek his bride.

***

"There is a matter of some import that I must share with you," Patience announced.

She had at finally reached the end of her tether. As they had meandered through the considerable expanse of Hyde Park, she and Damien had engaged in what seemed to be an interminable round of pleasantries regarding the profusion of narcissi now abounding. The search for intelligent comments on what she regarded as a highly overrated flower alone had become insupportable, not to mention the energy required to maintain the farce that governed their interaction. She therefore determined the time had come at last to offer her full confession.

"Might we stop? I should like to walk a bit if it would not be too great an inconvenience. Walking always helps me think, I find. And," she added, "I do very much need to think."

"Of course, but the heavens seem to be about to open. Are you sure --"

"Look - just beyond the trees - a folly. We can shelter there if necessary."

Damien stopped the curricle, signaled to his tiger and descended. He took her hand to help her to the ground, then slipped it into the crook of his arm. They started along the path.

"I am glad you suggested this walk, madam, as there is something of great consequence I wish to discuss with you as well. Of course, it can wait until after --"

"Oh, no, my lord," she interjected, finding herself unexpectedly quailing. "You must speak first. I-I insist."

"Very well. I am afraid what I have to say may come as some shock, but I have determined I must tell you directly, without equivocation."

They had reached the folly just as the rain began to fall. With the first clap of thunder and flash of lightning he turned to face her, solemnly placing a hand on either of her shoulders.

"I have," he started, "for lack of a better term, squandered my family's fortune. An investment I had been given every reason to believe was sound has, it seems, revealed itself a swindle. It is gone. All of it. The notes have come due, and, I fear, both the house here in Town as well as Coulter Park and all of their contents are on the verge of being seized." He shook his head. "You are married to a fool. My shame is, by extension, my lady wife's shame, and after having left you to languish in the country lo these three years I cannot hope to be able to atone for my actions in any other fashion but to propose an annulment. Virtually no one knows we are married. You could carry on using your Scottish title, marry Snydley..."

Patience was shocked to the core. And while her first impulse had been to reach for him, wrap her arms about him, there was something in his tone as he pronounced her cousin's name that stilled her. A smile. Snydley's name made him smile, though he fought to suppress it.

And then, in a rush, all became clear. He knew. He had discovered her ruse and was playing her for a fool. Under any other circumstances she might have been able, willing even, to admire the symmetry of his scheme. But now that she was here and emotionally spent, she found that the only reaction she could muster was a curious form of detachment.

And so, as though in direct counterpoint to the intensity of the storm that now raged, when Patience finally spoke, her voice was all but devoid of emotion.

"Do you know why my father agreed to our marriage?" she asked, cocking her head and looking deep into his grey eyes. "Because he so loved my mother and mourned her passing with such intensity that he could not bear for me to endure the same. He could not bear for me to love and to lose, to have my world drained of color with the loss of my heart's twin. And so he contracted to have me married to a stranger, someone who might provide a comfortable life for me, one full of distractions and free from cares."

Damien's brows furrowed in confusion. When he seemed about to speak, she continued.

"But he did not consider what I wanted, whether I was willing to risk loving and then losing. And I was. Heaven help me, I was, even then. I wanted so desperately to love and be loved that despite the nature of our marriage and against all evidence to the contrary, I convinced myself that one day you would come to look at me the way my father looked at my mother, that you would one day come to choose my company above all others." She shook her head, slowly, mournfully, detachment, at last, replaced by desolation.

Understanding dawned behind Damien's eyes, but it was already too late.

Patience turned from him and left the shelter of the folly, striking out across the lawn into the full force of the storm.

"But now I know," she declared, still advancing, never pausing. "Now I know."

He caught up with her, and seizing her by the arms, pulled her around to face him. She was drenched, the drops streaking her face so numerous it was impossible to tell where the rain ended and her tears began.

"Know what?" he choked. "Know what?"

With a voice, low and resolute, she answered.

"Now I know I could never love you."

He looked at her in despair, cognizant at once of what fools they had both been.

And it was then, at that same moment, with a roar of thunder worthy of Zeus himself, that a bolt of lightening found its way to the ground.