10. Lord Byron's Letter

I marched out of the dining hall after our meal had ended, trailed behind by my brother. Benedict eyed me intently, yet with a knowing, mischievous smirk. He brought his fingers up to his chin. "What are you so mad about, sis? I thought you would happy what with your plans to walk with Lady Danbury." I stopped dead in my tracks to shoot him a glare from over my shoulder.

"Why did you mention that letter?" "What? Lord Byron's?" Benedict took a step closer. "Shhhhhh!" I hushed him, running over to his side in a panic. He grinned. "Ah, sister; there is no one around listening now." My sharp glare returned up to his face. "Why? Why did you do that? Why did you tell them he wrote to me? You know I never read that letter." "I thought his lord and ladyship might find it interesting. Britain's most famous poet writing to our darling sister? Do you know how many women would kill for Lord Byron to write to them directly?" "He's also Britain's most famous scoundrel! I don't want to be associated with him. You know how court ladies gossip; they already dislike me. And should someone like Lady Whistledown ever find out….." "Relax, Daph; no one knows. Not besides us, anyway. And our guests this evening also have a vested interest in keeping this a secret as well," he brushed some stray hairs off my forehead. My head slowly lowered in understand and spun to the side to walk away again. But Benedict stopped me, clasping his hands behind his back and shifting my way.

"Didn't you want to know….?." "Know what?" My feet came to an abrupt halt again; I was some ways away from him in the hall now, with him closer to the dining room door. "What his letter said?" "Who? Lord Byron's? Certainly not! Father would never permit me to read it, and even if I did, I'm sure…. I'm sure there was nothing worth mentioning in it. He doesn't know me and only learned about my existence through second-hand talk. No, I had no desire to read such…. such a thing," my voice cracked a little. Benedict eyed me for a moment, then smiled again and shook his head. "You're not even a little curious? Curious as to what one of England's most celebrated- and romantic- poets might have said to you?" My eyes met his waveringly. "I-It makes no difference now anyway. The letter's gone… I'll never know, even if I wanted to." And Benedict shook his head once more before resting his face gently. "I should have told you sooner….. Lord Byron's letter was never sent back; I intercepted from the "out-going" mailbox."

My lips parted without my realizing; my heartbeat sped up again. My hand lifted up to my chest. "What are you saying, brother? You don't mean… No, you couldn't…. You wouldn't…. What do you mean it didn't get sent back?!" My voice cracked in terror. He nodded, bowing his upper half slightly. "Being an aspiring artist myself, I couldn't let such a treasure slip away disregarded. Byron would have taken its unopened return as a slight, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nosey at its contents." "Benedict….." My mouth trembled uncontrollably. My brother looked me right in the eye just then, marking my gaze. "I'm sorry, sister; I should have told you years ago.

I read Lord Byron's letter."

A single teardrop rolled down my cheek as I remained there, still and silent as a statue. This breathless pause fell over us, and for the first time, Benedict looked mildly pensive. His gaze finally tore away from mine. "Of course I burned it soon after the fact, so there was no risk of it being discovered. But, sis; oh, the things he wrote….. If you know knew the way he had with words….. Perhaps it's best you didn't read the letter, but I can't say I regret it, even if it's damaged your trust in me."

I stood there, lips still quivering and body still shaking. Letting another tear fall down, I somehow found the courage to meet Benedict's stare once more. There was just one question swirling around in my mind. My mouth opened a sliver so I could remember to breathe. "Why?" "Hmmmmm?" Benny perked up at this. My lips closed for a second, then reopened. "Why…. Did he say why he wrote to me in the first place? Me, a girl he'd never seen or met before? Did he say why…?"

Benedict watched me in silent reverence for a minute before sucking in a deep breath himself. His eyes drifted upwards a little in a sort of remembrance. "He said he was inspired to write to you after meeting with Mary Shelley, or Mary Godwin as you knew her at the time. God, Daphne….. What he wrote…. He said after what you did, you deserved to be worshiped by your lover as Inês de Castro was. He couldn't help extending an arm of friendship out to someone…. so virtuous and good." Another tear trickled down my face and I said no more. Benedict's eyes moved so to meet mine again. "You know what he's talking about, don't you? What Mrs. Shelley revealed to him… How you stayed quiet about her affair with Percy Shelley after he eloped with Mary to Switzerland. You knew that she was going to marry Mr. Shelley, and yet you said nothing…. Despite Mr. Shelley's mentor forbidding the marriage…. and you being the last person she wrote to before they left England."

I still didn't utter a word, letting another quiet moment slip in. There was a sound nearby and Benedict glanced to the door, but didn't do anything. He took his time peering back in my direction; this time with gentler, more soulful eyes. "Mrs. Shelley told Lord Byron about it while in Switzerland, and he thought you the most pure-hearted, most romantic creature on earth. That's why he wrote to you, sister; that's why he wanted to get to know you better. You saved Mrs. Shelley from ruin, and let her be united with Mr. Shelley…" A pregnant pause. "Why….? Why didn't you say anything? Why did you keep it a secret from everyone? Even Mrs. Shelley's own parents?" I looked Benedict right in the eye, and my lips finally stopped trembling.

"She loved him. What could I say…..?"

Benedict merely stared at me for some time, all the while wearing a contemplative expression on his face. Soon enough though he smiled; a real, true smile. His head fell down a tad. "I knew it….. I knew you believed in love- true, passionate, unfaltering love." "Brother….." I began. His head shook ever so tenderly, then his gaze drifted back up to mine yet again. "That was the best thing you've ever done, Daphne. Father's always praised your kindness, but I had no idea….. Percy and Mary Shelley owe you a lot, sister." "They owe me nothing, so long as they are happy," my head shook and Benedict smiled.

That's when there was another sound at the door, making me flinch in fear. Benny looked to the other side of the open door and smiled. He said nothing, but smiled. "Who was that?!" I asked him suddenly afraid. Is someone there?! What did they hear? How long have they been listening?! But my brother flashed me a brilliant yet reassuring grin. There was this spark of cleverness and compassion in his eyes once more; the same sort of spark when he first mentioned Lord Byron's letter. "No one, dear.

No one at all."