Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Weeks passed, with no sign of James re-entering Jessamina’s life. As much as she hoped that her life would become less complicated with him gone, she found herself constantly distracted and on edge. Even killing Mr. Westing (which she did finally manage to do) only brought her temporary relief. She wanted nothing more than to see him again, to talk with him for hours about philosophy and religion, but it simply wasn’t meant to be. Her days seemed devoid of life and energy, and what was worse; she still hadn’t gotten any closer to dealing with Mr. Blackhorne!

Finally, after two months, there was some correspondence. Jessamina was lying on her bed with a headache, when she heard voices outside her door.
“Addressed to Jessamina?” asked her mother. “But who on earth is it from?”
“Young Mr. Blackhorne, ma’am.” answered Marian.

Jessamina was at the door in an instant, wrapping a dressing gown around herself.
“Give it here,” Jessamina demanded.
“Jessamina, as your mother, I think I should read it first.”
“No! The letter is addressed to me, and I shall be the only one who shall know its contents. I am a grown woman now mother. And although you may have to chaperone me still, you have no say in these private affairs.” She snatched the envelope from Marian and unceremoniously slammed the door, denying them access to her room.

She sat down on her bed, just staring at the envelope in all it’s glory. She admired his penmanship, a nice, steady hand with even strokes, and even a little bit of a flourish when he signed his name. It was all very grand and elegant. It was addressed from Wales, and she opened it with the same fervor as she used to open her christmas presents.

Dearest Jessamina,

Words can not express how much it pains me to be away from you for so long. In the morning, when I wake up, you are all I think about. During the day, as I go about my mundane tasks, it is the thought of our pleasant conversations that keeps me focused. And in the evening, I find myself drifting off to sleep, dreaming of your beautiful face and expressive eyes.

I do not know if you harbor the same feelings as I do for you, but even if I thought you hated me, I can no longer hide my feelings for you.

I'm afraid to say anything that might offend you, for I know that I have not always been able to express myself articulately with you. So instead I'll try to tell you with this silence. When you understand the words I'm not saying, maybe then you can teach me to speak again, like you've taught my heart to love, and my eyes to see.

This separation ends now. I can stand it no longer. I shall return in a fortnight, eagerly waiting at your door that I may kiss your hand again. And if you do not return the sentiment, if you do not feel as strongly for me as I do for you, then let us still remain the dearest of companions. For if I thought I would never hear your sweet voice again, I would surely die of a broken heart.

Sincerely and forevermore yours,
James


Jessamina read the letter over and over again in order to absorb every nuance. Could someone as perfect as James Blackhorne really love an outspoken, idealistic woman like herself? She found it hard to believe it to be true, and yet here it was, written out before her.

“You’ve taught my heart to love, and my eyes to see.” That she could teach James anything was already a notion beyond her wildest dreams. It was she who had learned from him. She had learned that it was possible for her to love again. That it was possible for her to feel alive again after her father died.

And it was for that very reason that she knew that she could no longer see James anymore. She had to cut ties with him. It was dangerous for her to be falling in love with the enemy’s son. In a contest between James and her father, her father would always win. She promised her father to avenge his death far before she ever knew who James Blackhorne was, and a promise like that was not meant to be broken. Vincent Blackhorne had to die, and the only way to ensure his demise was to cause it herself. How could she ever look James in the eyes again, knowing that she had caused him so much pain? It would be better off for the both of them if they never were in each other’s company ever again.

She had made up her mind: the next time she saw him, she would tell him that she had met someone else, and that their relationship would be over. She wanted to write him a letter, but she knew that he was already in transit, and would therefore not receive it before he reached London. Nor did she find it appropriate to simply refuse his calls. She knew that it had to be done in person, or neither of them would feel that it was real.

Exactly two weeks after the letter was sent, James was downstairs in Jessamina’s parlor, while Jessamina was pacing in her room, unsure of how to best phrase her rejection. After deciding that no amount of waiting would prevent the inevitable, she made her way downstairs, absentmindedly holding her cameo brooch for inspiration.

“Marian,” Jessamina said, “Do you think you can leave the two of us alone for a moment?” Jessamina had told her maid beforehand of the unfortunate conversation that was about to occur, and although Marian was incredibly against it, she grudgingly left the room.

James eyes lit up the moment he saw Jessamina standing in front of him. “Jessamina, my sweet angel--”
“James, please, stop. Before you say anything further, there is something I have to say.”
“All right, then. What is it?”
“I’m afraid I can’t see you anymore.”

James stared at her with disbelief, and Jessamina found it very hard to hold her ground and his gaze.
“Did you receive the letter I wrote you?”
“I did, and it was the most sweet and romantic letter I’ve ever received. But, I think it would really be best for both of us if you began courting someone else. I think we simply aren’t suited for each other.”
“Suited for each other? Jessamina, what on earth are you saying? I can’t think of anyone in the entire world who I belong more with! Tell me at once what you’re really thinking?”
“I just think that our relationship can never develop into more than it already has.”
“You’ve met someone else, haven’t you? While I was away.”

She could hear the pain in his voice. Jessamina knew that if she took the easier route out of this horrible situation, he would leave and never come back. Her problems would be solved. But she found she couldn’t lie to him about that-- she knew there would never be anyone else like him.

“No. I haven’t met anyone else. But I don’t think I can reciprocate the feelings that you so eloquently expressed in your letter. Truly, James, it would be better if you found some other girl to fancy. Believe me, there are other young ladies out there who would give their right hand to be courted by you.”

“Jessamina. Are really saying that you don’t care for me the way I care for you?”
“Yes. I am.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, with Jessamina’s eyes downcast on the floor and James’ head in his hands. After what seemed like an eternity, James stood up and walked towards her.

“All right. If that’s truly how you feel, then obviously I will respect your wishes. I can only imagine how difficult this conversation was for you, being the polite lady that you are. As always, I admire you for your level-headedness. It’s a quality I used to possess, but I’ve found that you’ve taken that from me. Grant me one last request though, Jessamina?”
“What is it?”
“Come to the opera with me tomorrow. I bought the two of us tickets to Die Fledermaus, which I know is your favorite of all of Strauss’ works.”
“James, I really don’t find that appropriate.”
“Not as lovers. Accompany me as a friend. A friend who shares similar tastes in music with me. Please. I wouldn’t want to share this experience with anyone but you. And after that, you’ll never have to see me again. I promise.”
Could she really trust herself to spend an evening with James and not fall more in love with him? The answer to the question was a resounding “no”. But she also knew she wasn’t ready to have him gone from her life so soon. She would use this opportunity to create memories of James that she would remember for the rest of her life.
“You promise?” Jessamina asked.
“On my honor, yes.”
“Fine. What time would you like me to be ready?”
“Five o’clock.”
“Fine. I shall be ready and waiting.”
“Jessamina, thank you for this.

At five o’clock, James was waiting, bright-eyed and eager as he ever was. As much as it pained her. Jessamina was careful not to smile to widely, or laugh at his sparkling wit, or speak any more than she usually did. In fact, she spent of the carriage ride over speaking to her mother, who was also invited along as a chaperone. Of course, her mother was enjoying this experience immensely, not having been told that this was the last time James and Jessamina would see each other. Mrs. Delaney thought this was just a beginning of another relationship, rather than the end of one.

After some time in the carriage with James staring at Jessamina fondly and Jessamina pretending not to notice, the carriage jolted to a halt.
“We have arrived, sir.” The coachman proclaimed. James held out his hand to help Jessamina out of carriage, and although she did not want to take it, she knew she had no other choice. She tried to distract herself from the feel of his hand on hers by peering up at the magnificent building in front of her.

***************************************************

“Father, you can’t be serious!” Jessamina squealed.
“I am, my dear!” Mr. Delaney said. “Tonight, you and I are going to the opera, and we’re sitting in the best seats!”

It was the Christmas before Jessamina turned seventeen. Her father’s favorite pastime was going to the opera, but in recent years, they found they simply could afford to anymore. It was because of this lack of funds that Jessamina was so astonished to be presented with two tickets on such short notice. She looked at them and gasped when she saw where they were being seated.

“Father, How did you even manage to procure box tickets? Aren’t those reserved for the royal family?”
“And the incredibly wealthy.”
“And we are neither of those things.”
“True, quite true. But, I am a physician to some incredibly wealthy people. And sometimes, when those people offer incredible opera tickets as payment for my services, I don’t decline them!”
“Who did these belong to?”
“I honestly have no idea. They were delivered to us this morning by a servant who said his master wanted to remain anonymous. Sometimes, people wish to not be thanked for their good deeds. I suppose my patient was one of those sorts of men. At any rate, we have to get ready! Come on then, get dressed, we’re going to the opera!”

Mrs. Delaney found that watching theatrical events were a waste of time.
“After all,” she often said, “why get dressed up if you can’t even talk to anyone while the event is going on?”
Even Edmund didn’t particularly enjoy those sorts of affairs, although he humored Jessamina any time she wanted to talk about them.

It was for this reason that going to the opera, or to the theatre, or to orchestral concerts, were father-daughter activities. A chance to remember how special their bond was.

Jessamina might have been sixteen years old, but she still enjoyed going to the opera house as much as she did when she was six. Each time she stepped inside the building and saw those magnificent curtains frame the proscenium, a chill ran up her spine. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to stand on that stage and have hundreds of faces staring back at you, eagerly awaiting to hear the sounds that came out of your mouth. Her mother said a life in the theatre was considered a life of a scoundrel, but Jessamina found the whole ordeal to be incredibly glamorous.

From the moment she sat in the top left box, she felt as if she were some sort of queen. She gazed out over the stage admiring every detail and soaking it up, as if she knew that it was the last time she’d be there in a very long time. She also looked across from her, as a wrinkly old man with a long beard sat in the box directly opposite hers. She waved at him unceremoniously, but the old man didn’t notice, as seemed to be peering out into nothingness.

Jessamina and her father watched the opera in silence, her head fitting comfortably against his shoulder. Even after she became a young woman, he was so much taller and stronger than her that she felt like a little girl when next to him. She loved that feeling, for sometimes she grew weary of the many obligations she had, and she longed to be a just a simple child again. She longed to be small enough to sit in her father’s lap and have him read stories to her. She longed to dance with him they way she used to, with him picking her up and twirling her around the room. But since she couldn’t travel backwards in time, she settled for siting with him in the box, letting waves of gorgeous operatic sound wash over them. She let him smooth her hair with his hand, not even minding that it would remove the pins she had so carefully arranged. She remembered this feeling of complete contentment in the years to come, when the thought that her father was really gone became utterly unbearable.

***************************************************
The royal opera house was just as beautiful as she always remembered it, despite having not seen it in four years. Driving past it simply reminded her of her father, and their last outing together. But somehow this time, the sight of it’s beauty brought back only the good memories she had of the place. She loved its ornate marble columns, gleaming white from the glow of street-lamps. She loved the busyness of Bow Street right before a show started, when people from all walks of life were clutching their tickets in their fist, eager to step inside away from the cold.

“Shall we go in?” James asked, offering his arm to escort her.
Jessamina nodded her head, but pointedly refused to touch him. James didn’t seem to fully grasp the fact that this was not a romantic evening, but rather a farewell.
“I managed to get us box seats.” James remarked.
“Really?” Jessamina tried not to let her voice betray her excitement. “Must have cost you a fortune.”
“I think that an opera of this magnitude deserves to be fully appreciated. If that means shelling out a few more notes for better seats, than it’s an investment well made. But I confess, when I bought these tickets, I bought them with the assumptions we would be on... shall we say, friendlier terms.”
“Oh, James, I’m sorry--”
“But regardless, I’m more than happy to share them with someone who will appreciate them as much as I will. My father never enjoys these sorts of things, so I rarely have the opportunity to go the theatre.”
“Really. For me it’s quite the opposite.” She leaned closer to stage whisper to him. “It’s my mother who hates the theatre.”
“I heard that!” Mrs. Delaney huffily shouted from behind them. “She’s not telling the truth! I just normally have better things to do with my time than to watch grown men in tights prance around and sing to each other. And those women! They’re nothing but jezebels, the lot of them.”

Both James and Jessamina stifled their laughs with their gloved hands.
“Of course, Mrs. Delaney. I understand completely.” James said, with as much composure as he could muster.
“Yes, mother, we’re sorry you were forced to come with us. You could have sent Marian to be my chaperone, you know.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’d love to be rid of me. Well, that’s all fine and dandy in the house, but in public, the mother is always the chaperone. I won’t let you tarnish you your reputation.”


James and Jessamina entered their box seats on the top left and sat down at the front, while Mrs. Delaney decided to give them privacy and sit two rows behind them.

They watched the opera in silence only breaking it to give applause after the big arias. But Jessamina found that sitting so close to James reminded her too much of sitting with her father at the opera. All too often she found herself wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and breathe in his familiar scent. It took all the strength she could muster to stay focused on the show and not be distracted by how close their bodies were to touching. She could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, and it terrified her. She realized at once what a horrible mistake it was to come here with him; not for his sake, but for hers. Being there just reminded her how much she would desperately miss these moments.

After the opera was over, they spent the carriage ride discussing the nuances of the arias and orchestrations while Mrs. Delaney slept soundly (music bored her immensely).

“Well, here we are, Jessamina. Your house.” James said sadly.
“So it is. Thank you, James for the lovely evening.”
“And thank you, for being so lovely.” He glanced over at Mrs. Delaney, who was still fast asleep. “I’ll miss you, Jessamina. I don’t think you’ll ever know how much you mean to me.” He reached out a hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Goodbye, Jessamina.”
“Goodbye, James. I hope you find someone better. Someone who can make you happy.” And with that, she woke up her mother, and stumbled out of the carriage, certain she would never see James again.