Chapter 39
Two years after I left. Leo would have been marquess then. Did he do this?
“The trust is administered by my family’s law firm. My great-grandfather was actually the nephew of the marquess at the time, and the first administrator.”
I perk up even more, searching the face that I mostly ignored before. This is Leo’s family. Well, Lydia’s direct family line. But in his face I can see Leo’s nose and jaw, softened a little in age but still there. An age I never got to see on Leo.
I’m staring with a little too much intensity, if David’s throat-clearing is any indication.
“And in the trust documents, there were instructions to open a letter in January 2025. This year. When we did, we found a legal document inside, as well as two sealed letters.” David chooses this moment to pause for dramatic effect, looking up at us to make sure he has a rapt audience. He does. A thousand percent, he does.
“And?” I ask when he doesn’t follow up.
“The document leaves the primary management of the trust, as well as the head curator position, to you. Meera Chopra. An American historian who is supposed to be visiting England in summer of 2025 for a conference on the Isle of Wight. Although she may or may not disappear for some time, or be difficult to track down. But when we find her, on or after the last day of the convention and not before, we are to tell her about the position.”
“What?” There’s an echo, but it’s not my hearing; Luis is just as shocked as I am. I’m going to have to explain some things to him later, and I’m not sure if I’ll tell the truth or how he’s going to take it if I do.
“You are the current lady of the manor. Or at least the curator of the manor.” He smiles at me. I guess he’s not mad I’m apparently taking the business right from under him.
“But I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“It is a lot to process. My peers at the firm and I were shocked when we heard the news as well. But we read our own letter and read your published works, and we understood. There’s a letter for you as well, which we very much had to restrain ourselves from opening.
But never fear, I have guarded it securely.
” He hands me the letter, looking eager at the prospect that I’ll open it right now and he can get a peek at it. For all his restraint.
“Can I have a minute, please? Alone. To read this.” I direct that to both men in the room.
“Of course,” David says, but he looks disappointed at the development. “How about I give you a tour of the house?” he asks Luis. “I’m not a historian, but I have grown up hearing stories of this house.”
“Sure.” Luis looks equally disappointed, but they both leave without snatching the letter from my hands.
I turn the document over in my hand, feeling the weight and texture of the paper. It looks old. Like a letter from Leo in 1890s old. He managed to get a letter to me. And also give me his house, apparently.
Charming, responsible hedonist of a man.
The historian in me rears its head and I grab some latex gloves from a shelf before opening the letter. But that’s the last concession I make before sliding my fingers under the wax seal, opening it with a deep breath.
Meera,
Hello. It has been some time since I last saw you.
Or maybe it has not. However much time has passed, for you or the world, I need you to know that I miss you desperately, and I love you.
I have never experienced as much pain as I did when I saw you fall down those stairs.
Except for the moment immediately after, when I went down to the landing and you were not there.
I knew then what it must mean. The same kind, mischievous universe that brought you to me got cruel in her old age a week later and took you away. I am glad you found a way home, to your family and your wonderous inventions, even if you had to leave me to do it.
I know you will have some questions, my curious love, and I shall try to answer as many of them that I can think of here.
Forsyth went half-mad after you disappeared. He was sure he saw you fall but then could not find you. He told everyone you had disappeared right in front of him, and Queen Victoria told him to cut back on the liquor.
You would have liked seeing that. And seeing his face after.
She assumed you had gotten away and Forsyth was too embarrassed to say he was outrun by a woman. She blames him for running you off, even though she did read the letter. She felt quite foolish at first, and maybe more than a bit angry. Maybe it was best you left when you did.
But she did relent. She quite enjoyed your time together and missed you more than she was angry. She swore Forsyth to secrecy, so your good name is intact, if you even find yourself in our fair country again. In our fair time.
And now you are probably wondering about the trust. A wise woman told me that it was all the rage to open your house to the public for their general amusement and intellectual enrichment, and for the purposes of separating them from their hard-earned coin.
So, as this estate was not entailed, it was possible to enter it into the trust and open our doors, and hopefully keep them open until your special time.
The same wise woman also told me who wins the first auto race in France.
So I broke one of my rules. I bet every last cent we had and some that I could borrow from a lender who had not heard our dire financial straits (I had to go all the way to Manchester!) on who would win.
He was not favored, so when he did, we won rather a lot of money.
It was enough to put down generous initial payments to creditors, and we’re paying the rest through the fees we get from the house visits.
I have a job now! I give tours and the public absolutely adores me!
And I manage the trust (that part is less fun), which is set up to make sure this house survives.
The newspapers are calling us poor and bad ton for charging admission, neither of which is a lie, and also maybe because of the zoo I had put in (I do remember everything you told me).
But after Lydia had a bit of a faint at the idea, she is just glad she can buy dresses that are in fashion, the same season they are in fashion.
And Lydia got married, to someone who makes her happy and who is quite titled, so you see, your association has only helped this family, and not just because of the gambling tip.
She even has a little one, and I am a proud uncle.
He is the smartest baby to ever be born, and I will not hear any disagreement on that point.
Lydia has already agreed to continue running the trust and museum after I’m gone, and to have her children run it after that.
I told her the truth about you, and even though I think she thinks it is a work of fiction or that I am a candidate for Bedlam, she agreed to humor me and pass the estate and knowledge of what happened on through her family, per the trust conditions.
The title will go into abeyance upon my death, but so be it.
My only concern in this time has only ever been Lydia, and as she can inherit the house, she will be fine.
She also has her own money and title now, and frankly, duchess outranks marchioness, so I do not care what happens to it.
Titles are useless anyway, haven’t you heard?
If this house museum survives to your time, I can think of no one else I would want to run it. Your intelligence, curiosity, inventiveness and strength are exactly what it needs.
It is what I need too.
Which leads me to my next bit of news, one I know you will be angry at. I haven’t married, nor do I plan to. Now that we’ve temporarily saved the house and have a long-term plan, there is no need.
There is no one for me here. I cannot ruin someone else’s life by marrying them when all I will ever be able to think about is you. I cannot hold someone close when all I will be able to think of is holding you.
So even though I cannot hold you, I hope you will walk my halls and feel protected and cherished by them. Even though I cannot watch you thrive, I hope the same paintings I pass every day and the chairs I sit in now witness your beautiful smile.
I have never wished for ghosts to be real until now, so that I can see you, in your scandalous modern clothes, competently ordering around an entire army of adequately paid museum staff, inviting guests into our home the same way you would have if you had stayed, and we would have gotten married.
Because it is our home. Even if we cannot enjoy it together.
I have kept my bedroom blocked off of the museum spaces for you, whether or not you take the position. You can stay here for as long as you want.
I cannot force you to remain, of course; the trust can carry on if you refuse. But knowing you might one day be lady of the house will have to be enough to get me through the rest of my lonely life, however long it may be.
I love you, curious one. I hope your life will be as happy as you have made mine.
Leo
September 8, 1897
Postscript: Check under our bed for a surprise. And the hallway of Indian portraits at Osborne House for another. I’ll be going to the unveiling there next month.
I’m glad I sent everyone away, because I can’t stop crying. The tears I forced back earlier, too busy yelling at Heather and trying to find out what happened with Leo, fall freely now.
I don’t think about all the history he changed—his stately manor being the first to open to the public on a large scale, his bet and sudden fortune, his not getting married.
I just think about how much I wish I was still in 1895.
One thing’s for sure: nothing can stop me from taking this job.