"Oh, my God, Edward, look at this place," I muttered, climbing out of the rental car the next day. Belgrano turned out to be not just the name of the house, but of the estate. Ribafria was only an hour outside of Lisbon, but it felt like another world. Or maybe it was just Belgrano that was another world. It was outside of Ribafria itself, and set back off a small country road. High box hedges separated the estate from the road, with an old black wrought-iron fence opening onto a curving lane. The drive led through the lush green, slightly overgrown grounds as we drove up to the main house. Passing through the grounds, past gardens, sculptures and run-down out buildings felt like stepping back in time.
The house was three stories, built out of speckled, mossy grey stone. It wasn't particularly ostentatious, but it oozed Old World eminence. Once upon a time, people with money and power lived here. Generations of them. A lot of the money and power seemed to have fled, since the stone fountain in front of the house was dry and the hedges needed a good trimming back, but it was hardly a ruin. Shabby gentility summed it up nicely.
Edward crossed around the front of the car and squeezed my hand before we walked up the path to the front door.
"I'm terrified," I murmured.
"Why?"
"I suck at the whole 'charming and polite' thing. That's your ballgame."
Edward scoffed. "I beg to differ. You can be plenty charming when you put your mind to it."
"I'm not talking about when I'm naked, Edward. That doesn't count."
"Hey, you can do this."
I nodded. "If you say so."
"I do. Just stay focused, okay?"
I took a deep breath and raised my hand to the big brass knocker on the door, because of course, there wasn't a normal doorbell.
A large dog started barking from inside and I could hear footsteps and a woman's voice reprimanding the dog in Portuguese. Moments later the door opened and an older woman smiled at us. She was maybe in her early seventies, casual, but still elegant in a long cardigan sweater and loose pants, her shoulder-length silver hair swept off her lined, still-beautiful face.
"Miss Swan?" she said in her lovely, Portuguese-accented English.
"Yes, and you're Senhora Amaral?"
"Actually I'm Senhora Taveira. Amaral was my maiden name."
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I had no idea." I cringed inside. I'd already made all kinds of social blunders and I wasn't even in the door yet. This was why I sucked at this stuff.
She waved a hand dismissively. "I didn't correct you. I'm still an Amaral, after all. Welcome to Belgrano. Please come in."
We moved into the cool tiled entryway. "This is Edward Cullen," I said. Edward's hand shot out and his face lit up with a smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Senhora Taveira."
His wicked smile seemed to work on her as well as it worked on most things with two X chromosomes and she smiled warmly back at him. "Please, call me Maria."
I suppressed an eyeroll. She didn't tell me to call her Maria. He really was shameless. And hot.
A second later we were accosted by the largest black dog I'd ever seen. It was bigger than a Shetland pony, and it was dripping slobber on my shoes, but its massive tail was wagging wildly, so I wasn't afraid. Like Maria, the dog took an instant liking to Edward. Must have been a girl. The dog rubbed her massive body along his legs and turned her huge head up to gaze adoringly at him.
"Oh, Sofia!" Maria scowled, pulling the dog back by her collar. "Such a terrible pest. My son got her for me. The housekeeper is here during the day, but since my husband passed away, it's just me at night. Go, Sofia, find Beatriz in the kitchen and leave the guests alone."
She shooed the dog out of the room and turned back to us.
"Thank you so much for seeing us today," I said.
"My pleasure. It's nice to see someone from the outside taking an interest in the family. There was a time when we were quite prominent. But now…" she waved a hand gently. "There are just a few of us left from the family. Once there were houses all over the country, but now there's only this one, and a small one at that. The grand family estates are all gone."
If Maria considered this a modest little left-over, I couldn't even imagine what the grand family estates had looked like.
"It's lovely," Edward said. "Would you tell us a little about it?"
That was the right question to ask. Maria lit up like a candle and started talking, leading us from room to room on the ground floor. She told us about the Amaral ancestor that built the estate and the ones who expanded it and designed the gardens. She pointed out which pieces of furniture were gifts from which King or Queen of Portugal. She told us which famed artist was commissioned for which Amaral portrait.
She stopped in a long hallway and pointed at one. "This is him. Dom Fernando Amaral."
I stepped closer and peered up at it. For a guy in a frilly frock coat and a white wig, he was kind of good-looking. Pretty hot, actually. Good bone structure, nice nose, very pretty mouth. His eyes were riveting. They were dark, but in a way, they reminded me of Edward's. I remember back before we were even dating, I used to avoid making eye contact with him because of the effect it used to have on me. I told myself it was because I hated him so much, but in reality, I was afraid that once I looked, I wouldn't be able to look away. I could imagine that Dom Fernando would have had the same effect on women.
I felt Edward shift into my side so he could whisper in my ear. "Are you crushing on your research subject?"
"Maybe a little. He's hot."
"Oh, great. I'm in competition with someone who's been dead for two hundred years."
I looked at him over my shoulder, squinting my eyes in consideration. "Hmmm, your hair is better."
He chuckled and reached up to touch it, like I knew he would, and I turned to follow Maria down the hall.
"Lunch is almost ready," she said, smiling back at me over her shoulder. "It's such a nice day, I thought we could eat on the back terrace, if that's alright with you."
"It sounds perfect."
And it was perfect. The old stone terrace overlooked the rolling green lawns of the grounds. There was a small lake in the middle distance and far off were the mountains. It was breathtaking. Beatriz, the housekeeper, appeared with Sofia the dog in tow, setting out cold salads and a bottle of chilled white wine.
Edward kept up a steady patter of questions about the house and the area, charming the pants off Maria. She was actually very nice. She might be descended from an ancient line of European nobility, but really, she was a sweet, older widow whose children lived far away, busy with their own families. She was left alone in this big old house with her memories and her family history and nobody but the housekeeper and Sofia, the dog to talk to. She seemed pleased to have our company, and even more pleased that we were actually interested in this forgotten noble family that meant so much to her.
"So," I interjected, before Edward could coo with her over any more pictures of her cherubic grandchildren. "I noticed in my research that Dom Fernando never married. That's kind of surprising, considering his social standing and wealth."
Maria nodded in agreement. "And you saw from his portrait that he was quite handsome. He was considered a bit of a rake in his day. Quite the eligible bachelor."
I nudged Edward under the table, thinking Fernando sounded an awful lot like him. He looked at me with wide, fake-innocent eyes.
"Is there any indication why?"
"It was a difficult time for the royal family and consequently, ours. When Portugal finally fell to France in 1807, the royal family fled to Brazil and our family went with them."
"Your family went into exile with Prince John?"
"Of course," Maria said with a sniff, as if to suggest they did otherwise was an insult. "Many of those closest to the Prince went to Brazil. Dom Fernando was his best friend. He never would have left John's side. Perhaps Fernando felt the needs of his friend and ruler outweighed his own personal wants. Fernando devoted his life in service to King John."
"That's very honorable," Edward said, and Maria smiled at him. I loved the way she talked about ancestors who'd died two hundred years ago as if they were cousins who lived just down the street.
"Well," Maria said, clapping her hands together. "Shall we see if Fernando left you any breadcrumbs to solve your mystery?"
I forced myself to get up from the table slowly, like a normal person, and smile politely, instead of slobbering like the history-obsessed maniac I knew I really was.
Maria showed us into the library, a lovely wood-paneled room with a painted, coffered ceiling. Three walls were lined with old leather-bound books that made my palms itch with desire. I glanced over at Edward and he was looking at those books with a face that I usually only saw when I was under him and naked. He wanted it bad. It only made me love him more, that he was willing to suppress his own avid interest so that I could get to see what I needed.
"The family papers are all boxed on these shelves," Maria said, pointing towards the far wall. The shelves were lined with old cardboard archival boxes I knew well from my time spent in libraries like this one. "I'm afraid there's no complete record of what's here. My great-aunt Carlota had an interest in the family history and she's the one responsible for moving everything out of the old trunks in the attic and into these boxes, but she didn't get much farther than that. I believe it's more or less in chronological order, but I can't help you more than that."
"That's okay," I told her, skimming my fingers over the boxes, noting Carlota's penciled-in dates on each one. "This is a great start." I sounded calm and professional, but inside I was about to weep with excitement. This was a completely unknown archive of documents. No one outside of Maria's great-aunt had even touched them since their owners penned them centuries before. I knew exactly what Lord Carnarvon must have felt the day he busted into Tutankhamen's tomb. I was about to reach back through time and touch history as it happened. My hands were shaking.
Edward moved up behind me, ostensibly to examine the boxes with me. Instead, he whispered in my ear, "Breathe, Bella."
I shook my head slightly. "Do you realize…" I trailed off, unable to finish, unable to find the words for the feelings.
"Yeah," he whispered roughly, just as overcome as me. "I do realize."
In a flash, I had an overwhelming compulsion to push him back on that beautiful mahogany table behind us and mount him. Crazy history obsessions. One whiff of old paper and I was wildly turned on. I heard him swallow thickly at my side and I glanced over at him. His jaw was so tense that the tendons of his neck were popped out. He shifted slightly as he tried to adjust himself without his hands. I smiled. Yeah, he wanted it, too.
It was a fun little fantasy, and maybe one we'd play around with when we were back at our hotel later, but right now there was no time to think about anything but these papers.
I took a deep breath and willed my shaking hands to be still. I pushed my elation and anxiety to the back of my head and forced the hard-nosed academic in me to get it in gear. There was work to do.
Carlota had labeled boxes to cover even ten year periods. In some cases there was more than one box for each decade. She broke that pattern at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The first one was labeled "1800-1807". That made sense. The royal exile to Brazil would have been a defining moment in this family's history, very much a "before and after" event for them. It worked out well for me, since 1800-1807 was exactly the window I wanted to examine, and there were half a dozen boxes that covered that period. There was the possibility that pertinent correspondence existed earlier, but I figured I'd start as close to the events as possible and work outward as necessary.
Carefully, I slid the first box off the shelf.
"Why don't you use the main table?" Maria suggested, pointing to the mahogany one that had just recently starred in my raunchy library fantasy. "The light from the windows is good for reading there."
Right. Reading. Not sexing up your boyfriend, Bella.
I settled down at the table with Edward on my left and Maria across from me. Even though she'd lived alongside these documents all her life, she seemed genuinely interested in looking at them with us. Maybe if you weren't looking for something specific, like we were, then all they were was a bunch of old papers.
After I handed out cotton archival gloves to everyone, I opened the box and began to carefully shift through the contents. Letters. Stacks and stacks of them, all in Portuguese, which I was only passably proficient at. This would be tough. Plus, although the letters were grouped by year, they were penned by many different people and seemed to be about a wide variety of subjects. A cursory initial examination showed some to be personal letters and others dealing with family or estate business.
"Maybe I should sort them by recipient. That's probably the best way to start," I muttered.
"Here, hand me that stack," Edward said. I looked at him. "What?" he asked. "I'm here so I'm helping. Give me a stack to sort."
I smiled at him and pushed a pile in front of him.
"I'm happy to help, too," Maria chimed in. "It's quite fascinating, actually."
"If you're sure."
"Of course. Who knows what we might find!" She sounded so excited, and I realized that this was probably the biggest thing to happen at Belgrano in years. I happily handed her a stack of letters to sort.
Half an hour later, we had something of a system going. While there were letters to and from numerous members of the family, there were a few that made up the lion's share. And two of those were teenage girl cousins who seemed to exchange letters nearly daily. It was a pretty safe bet that those letters weren't hiding any grave diplomatic secrets. Another frequent correspondent was an uncle of Fernando's, but all of his letters were just from his land agent about estate management issues, so we could leave those out as well.
I was half way through the second box when I found the first letter to Fernando. Actually, it was both to and from Fernando. "Crossing" a page with additional writing was not uncommon in the period. Paper and postage were both costly, so often a letter-writer would write a full page, turn the paper sideways, and continue to write, the new lines perpendicular to the old. It looked a little chaotic when taken as a whole, but if you read it, it wasn't hard to let the crossing lines of text blend into the background. It was a way to get two pages of correspondence for the price of one.
But Dom Fernando certainly wouldn't have been concerned with paying for an extra page in a letter, so there had to be another reason he'd done it. Plus, the handwriting of the crossed lines was different. Two different people had written on the same letter. As soon as I'd read a few lines in each direction, I knew who the writers were and why they'd crossed lines.
"Oh, my God, look at this." I spread the page out on the table so Edward and Maria could both see it. "The first page of writing is by Fernando, and it's to Prince John. But look at this. John answered him back by writing across the same page. Why would he do that?"
Edward raised an eyebrow. "Because anything in Prince John's possession was essentially part of the government. If he sent it back to Fernando, Fernando could keep it private."
"This is it," I said. "This is why there's no official record. John made sure anything he wrote wouldn't make it into the royal archives and this is how he did it. He sent it all back to the sender."
"So what was he talking about with Fernando that was such a secret?" Edward asked, squinting at the letter. My Portuguese was bad, but Edward's was awful. He could order dinner and ask for red wine instead of white and that was about it.
"I'm trying to figure it out. The language is tough, plus Prince John's handwriting is deplorable, honestly."
"May I?" Maria interjected.
"You don't mind?"
"I'm dying to read it, actually," she enthused. I handed over the letter. It was hers, after all.
She cleared her throat and started translating for us.
March 1805, London
My Dearest friend John,
Our friends from the island send you their most fervent best wishes and pray you remain steadfast and true to our promise. I swore in your name that we have no intention of betraying our ancient alliance even though we are hard-pressed by our mutual enemies.
They are delighted that you continue to receive their gifts, even while pressured by others to refuse them. They assure your majesty that a plan is afoot to bring an end to those water-borne annoyances currently plaguing us.
They have conceived of a most unusual new entertainment and wish our assistance in its execution. I know you are always fond of anything diverting and I promised I would lay out all the plans thus far to your majesty.
I plan to sail for home next month and shall be anxious for a private audience with my oldest and most treasured friend.
Yours in faithful service,
Fernando Amaral
"What does that mean?" Maria asked, lowering the letter in confusion.
"It's all in code," I said. "Or at least, they were trying not to be obvious about what they were discussing, in case the letter was intercepted."
"'Our island friends,'" Edward said. "That's clearly England. That's where Fernando was when he wrote this. You said John sent him sometimes."
"For minor ceremonial stuff."
Edward shrugged a shoulder. "Or maybe for major secret negotiations."
"That part about still receiving gifts… that must be a reference to Portugal still receiving English shipments in its ports even though France and Spain were pressuring them to blockade the British."
Edward leaned forward, almost talking over me in his enthusiasm. "And the part about a plan to end the water-borne annoyances… they're talking about a naval battle with the Franco-Spanish ships. All of that stuff about the unusual new entertainment… that's the Trafalgar Action, Bella. Nelson broke with established naval battle tactics and implemented a new strategy for engagement. They must have been planning it even then."
"And there would have been only one reason they wanted Prince John to be privy to it."
Edward sat back, his eyes locked with mine. Admiral Nelson was Edward's idol. He'd spent his entire academic career on the British Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. Nelson's brilliant win at Trafalgar was one of the touchstones in Edward's life. He'd been really good about indulging me on my quest to prove Portugal had been involved, especially when I knew in his heart that he didn't believe it for a second.
But here it was. A clue—and an incredibly tantalizing one—that I was right and Nelson wasn't a lone genius. Portugal might have been there and helped.
Edward had been caught up in the heady rush of discovery with me, but now that the reality of what we might have uncovered caught up with him, the implications crashed over him, painfully evident in his face. For one crazy second, I wanted to put the letters away and pretend we'd never come. This never happened. The world never had to know.
"Maybe it never went further than talk," I said softly, reaching out to touch his fingers.
He blinked and seemed to remember himself. "We'll never know if we don't keep reading, will we?" His tone was light, but forced. I wanted to talk about this, but now wasn't the time. He was right. I didn't know how long I'd have with the letters and we needed to keep moving. I could worry about rocking Edward's academic world later.
"Maria, what was Prince John's answer?"
She turned the page sideways and began to read again.
My most faithful friend,
I am in your debt for pleading our case with our island friends. Assure them in most impassioned language that I hold our ancient friendship dear and rely on it in these dark times. Their gifts will be welcome in our lands until the last, provided the Lord protect us from the encroaching darkness.
I am most intrigued by this talk of new entertainments. You are right, I am always fond of a good diversion and I look forward to hearing the details of this new endeavor.
I anxiously await your return to our company, although I fear I must impose upon you to spend a little more time with our treasured island friends soon. As you well know, this treasured alliance must be nurtured by one I can trust. I trust no one as I do you, my dear friend.
Yours,
John
"Wow," Edward said softly when Maria finished.
"It looks like Prince John was on board with whatever England was planning."
"It does," Edward agreed. "But here's the thing. Coordinating a naval battle was no easy task. It's not like they had cell phones. It's one thing for Prince John to agree to offer support in the theoretical sense. There had to be a significant amount of communication going on to make sure the ships were in the right place at the right time. Who took care of that? How was that planned between two countries in war time and in secret?"
It didn't escape my notice that Edward was already talking about the Portuguese ships as a point of fact now, but I didn't comment on that. "Let's keep looking. There might be more of these two-sided letters with Prince John that explain it."
"He must have had a contact in the navy," Edward mused.
"What?"
"However the information was transferred, it must have come in a fairly straight line from Nelson, so the orders would remain intact."
"Well, keep looking. We'll see what we find."
We did find a few more letters between Fernando and John, but they were mostly reinforcing the same sentiments, about upholding the ancient alliance and doing whatever was necessary to protect common interests. There was nothing specifically about Trafalgar and it seemed Fernando came back to Portugal in the spring of 1805.
Edward and Maria were going back over the last of the Prince John/ Fernando letters while I opened up yet another box from 1800-1807 and started sorting its contents. More letters from the chatty teenage cousins. Honestly, what could those girls keep finding to write about? More from the uncle with the complicated land management.
Then towards the bottom of the box, I found a packet of letters, all written on the same heavy cream paper, and bound together with a piece of twine. None of the others were bundled together, so I was already curious. Some tingly spidey sense made me snap a picture of the bundle with my camera phone, just as I found it, sitting on a pile of other family correspondence. I wanted to remember this sense of anticipation and this promise of secrets soon to be revealed forever.
After I carefully loosened the old knot holding them together, I plucked the first letter out of the pile and turned it over. It was addressed to Fernando in a distinctly feminine hand. I unfolded it and found, just like the Prince John/ Fernando letters, it was crossed in two different hands. I already recognized Fernando's as the first. The woman's handwriting was the top one, sent on the return.
"Maria," I called, passing her the first letter. "Look. There are several between Fernando and this woman."
"A woman? That's a bit unusual. If she wasn't family, it would have been rather improper for Fernando to exchange letters with her."
"War pushes people to extremes," Edward said.
Maria turned her attention to the letter and began to read Fernando's part first.
June 5, 1805
Belgrano, Ribafria
Dear Miss Swithburne,
Forgive me for imposing upon you with my correspondence. I know it's highly unusual and under ordinary circumstances, I would not dream of reaching out to you this way. As you know, however, these are no ordinary times we are living in.
When your brother, Admiral Swithburne, introduced us at Lady Mersey's ball last spring, I couldn't help but take note of your interest in our conversation. It was rather dull subject matter for a lady such as yourself, but your impassioned words and your grasp of the minutiae of the issues at hand led me to believe that your brother has already taken you into his confidence in these matters. Your sympathy towards our plight leads me to think you may be willing to be of further assistance.
As you know, official correspondence between my dear friend and your dear brother would draw attention from many undesirable corners. However, a correspondence between you and myself, although improper in one regard, would raise no official interest.
If you would be willing to assist us in this manner, please cross my words with your own and return the enclosed to me. At least all evidence of our connection will lay with me and you may be assured that I will guard it with my life. I would do everything in my power to prevent your reputation from being stained. If I go too far and assume too much, then please destroy this letter and think on it no more.
However, if I may be so bold, I sensed a certain revolutionary spirit in you that night. Something tells me I have chosen the right person to entrust with my secrets.
Yours faithfully,
Dom Fernando Amaral
Maria scarcely drew a breath before turning the page to read the response.
June 10, 1805
London, England
Dear Dom Fernando,
Indeed, your instincts guided you true. I fear my dear brother, naval genius that he may be, often forgets that I am a sister and not a brother, and one several years his junior at that. He has long made a habit of confiding all his thoughts and secrets to me, including those about your friends and your situation. I know far more about the naval battle plans of England than any well-bred woman should. My brother is fortunate that I find it almost as interesting as he does. Most sisters would not be so indulgent.
I have long felt a great deal of helpless anger at your plight. The French Menace has run roughshod across Europe and now has your fair country in his sights. Your letter has brought me a great deal of satisfaction and joy, as I have desperately wished to do more and lacked the means to, owing to my sex and station in life.
Please do not speak of an imposition. I wish to be of use, and if I may be of assistance to you and my dear brother in this way, I am delighted to do it. Do not concern yourself with any taint on my reputation. Your plan of returning all correspondence should eliminate the possibility of discovery on this end. In any case, that revolutionary spirit you spoke of has already done a great deal to scare away potential suitors. I'm of rather an advanced age to be worried about my delicate girlish reputation. I'm made of rather stern stuff, you'll find, and can withstand a good deal of gossip for a worthy cause. Your cause, Dom Amaral, is indeed most worthy.
Please write back at your earliest convenience and tell me in what way I might be of service to you. I promise you that your trust is well-placed in me.
Yours,
Julia Swithburne
Slowly, Maria let the letter drop to the table and looked up.
"Holy shit," I muttered, unable to filter myself under the circumstances.
"Fuck," Edward said, apparently having the same problem.
"Oh, my," Maria said. "I'd better have Beatriz bring us some dinner. I think we'll be here for a while."
She pushed away from the table and hurried out. I reached out and slid the letter across the glossy wood surface. I looked at Fernando and Julia's letters crossing each other on the page, the proof of a secret alliance formed, a conduit for sensitive naval information.
"This was how they did it," I whispered. "Admiral Swithburne gave the orders to his sister, who passed them on to Fernando Amaral in these letters. Then he passed it on to the king in person. Oh, God…"
Suddenly, I was so overwhelmed that I had to bend over at the waist and drop my head between my knees. To my horror, my eyes started watering and I couldn't breathe. "Oh god oh god oh god…"
"Hey!" Edward slid forward off his chair, crouching at my side, one hand on my back and the other stroking my hair. "Bella, breathe. This is a good thing, right? You just found the equivalent of a historic smoking gun."
I sat back up and waved my hands helplessly in front of my face, trying to get my rampaging emotions under control. "I just… oh my God. I wanted to find it. My gut told me it was out there. But then to actually find it… I don't…"
"It's a once in a lifetime find, Bella. You get that, right? This is going to define your entire career."
"You're not helping at all with the freak-out thing. You suck at calming me down."
He chuckled and moved his hands to cup either side of my neck. "Maybe this will work better."
And then he kissed me. Not a sweet peck on the lips, not a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled me in close and kissed me, all open mouths and urgent tongues and scraping teeth.
I was already so strung out and emotional and Edward's kiss took me from zero to sixty. In seconds, I was kissing him back, fisting my hands in his hair, shifting in my seat to wrap my legs around his hips. He kissed the corner of my mouth, the tip of my chin, the underside of my jaw. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back, all the energy of the day coursing through me.
"Calmer now?" he mumbled, his voice a low vibration across my skin.
"Screw you," I sighed. "Now I'm just wound up in a new way."
"Whatever works."
"Edward, I have to finish reading these letters."
"I know you do. And now you've stopped panicking. You're welcome."
I growled and pushed him away just as Maria came back into the library.
"I've asked Beatriz to make us a little dinner before she leaves for the day. Have you read the next letter?" she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Uh, no. We were waiting for you." And making out like teenagers.
"Oh… thank you." Maria's face was all soft smiles. She was genuinely touched at being included in the discovery. My heart swelled a little. She really was the nicest woman. I was so glad these letters now lived with her.
"So," I said, touching the stack of letters lightly. "Are we ready to read on?"
Maria nodded eagerly and Edward scooted closer, so I drew the next one out of the pile and unfolded it carefully before passing it over to Maria.
For the next two hours, as the light outside grew golden and then faded, we listened, the three of us with our heads close together. Maria's lovely voice rose and fell as she read first Fernando's letters and then Julia's replies. Edward's hand moved across the table until his fingers found mine. I clutched his hand as we listened.
With every line, my discovery grew more profound– and heartbreaking. Julia Swithburne was indeed passing Nelson's naval orders to Portugal via her brother, the Admiral. Fernando was receiving her orders and passing them on to his best friend, the Prince of Portugal. That was all absolutely true.
But something else was happening in the letters. Fernando and Julia were falling in love. It was all couched in their Regency manners and upper-class reserve, but it was undeniably there. When I thought about it, I could sense his admiration in the very first letter, and her respect was evident from the outset as well. Over time, it grew into more on both sides.
Each letter would start out dealing with the business at hand. Changes of plans were discussed, new orders were issued. Then at the end, they each inevitably ventured into the personal.
From Fernando:
While I am glad that Lady Whitby's card party allowed your brother the opportunity to speak in private with the ambassador, I am saddened to hear that you were trapped with such underwhelming companions at your table. It pains me to hear that you were left out of the greater conversation, since I know first-hand how very much you have to offer in such discussions. It must have been exceedingly frustrating for you.
From Julia:
I confess, spending the evening entertaining Mr. Roberts was indeed a trial, but diverting his attentions allowed my brother the freedom to engage the ambassador in the way he wished. Listening to Mr. Roberts wax rhapsodic about horticulture was a small price to pay, although if I may judge from his sentiments at our parting, I fear I shall be enduring his company for some time to come. So you see? My sacrifice for the cause is grave and ongoing.
From Fernando:
Miss Swithburne, you know how greatly I esteem your brother, the Admiral, but please set my mind at rest on this score. Assure me that he does his duty as your brother and only guardian in cases such as these. Please tell me that he intervenes on your behalf and sends unworthy swine like Mr. Roberts on their way and that you are not left on your own to spurn unwanted advances from undesirable gentlemen.
From Julia:
I did not mean to stir such concern on your behalf, Dom Amaral. Indeed, my brother is at times quite distracted and consumed by his duties. As you know, the naval situation is most dire and requires all he can give. But do not fear on my account. I have not lived seven and twenty years without learning how to dissuade the odd unpleasant suitor. I am more than capable of managing Mr. Roberts and his horticulture. I need only drop the pretense of female gentility I adopt in polite society. You have seen glimpses of the real Julia Swithburne and you know how off-putting I can be to the opposite sex. I am rather snappish when I fail to remind myself not to be.
From Fernando:
Yes, I like to think I've been fortunate enough to glimpse the real Miss Swithbourne, but trust me when I promise you this: there is nothing at all off-putting about you. You are a woman of uncommon intellect, courage and principals. Coupled with your abundant physical charms and it is no wonder that Mr. Roberts finds himself at your mercy.
I'm afraid your last letter did little to dispel my concerns about your suitors. Would that I was there. I could act in your brother's stead and protect you from such unpleasant and unwelcome addresses. Indeed, it angers me that one so unworthy as this Mr. Roberts dares disturb you with his attentions.
From Julia:
You take the situation far too seriously. You know I am half in jest and greatly exaggerate the burden of Mr. Roberts' addresses. Besides, if you were here, I do not think I would wish you to act as a brother to me.
May I impose upon you to call me by my given name? I wish you would call me Julia. Miss Swithburne is so very proper and not at all fitting. I feel this endeavor we have embarked upon together gives us leave to drop such formal means of address, don't you?
From Fernando:
Tell your brother that all is progressing as planned here. My dear friend understands what is expected of us and we shall not fail you. Let us hope that soon we may put this darkness behind us and turn our energies to happier endeavors.
If I am to call you Julia, then you must call me Fernando. I feel we know each other well enough at this juncture. I should say, I feel I know you very well. Indeed, there are times when I feel closer to you than I do to anyone else.
I am indeed used to your teasing. I would hope that if you were ever in real distress, you would not hesitate to tell me. I would assist you in any way in my power, Julia. However, were I there, I do not think I would wish to act as your brother, either.
From Julia:
All is in readiness. I have described to you above the final orders for the great event. My brother sends his best wishes and hopes that God is with your ships as well as his.
So let us be agreed then, if you were here, you would in no way act as a brother to me.
Will you be here again? Is it wrong of me to say that I hope I shall meet with you again someday?
From Fernando:
All preparations are complete here. My dear friend, the Prince, sends his best wishes and prayers to your brother and his men.
You will meet with me again someday, Julia. I fear I cannot fix on a day. These times we live in present a great many obstacles, and I have obligations here at home that command my time and attention at present. If the worst should happen, my duty is to remain at the Prince's side. However, I hope that at some date not too far into our future, circumstances will finally allow me to act for my own happiness. And at that time, I assure you, I shall see you again in England.
Until then, I remain as always,
Your Fernando
It was nearly nine p.m. when we finished the last letter in the packet. They stopped just shy of the Traflagar Action, in October of 1805. The information exchanged was incontrovertible. Britain had instructed Portugal via the letters exchanged by Julia and Fernando, guiding their secret involvement in the battle. They were not to engage, only to draw off the Franco-Spanish fleet's attention, allowing Nelson to maneuver the British ships into position to attack. It worked. Nelson blew through the enemy lines and decimated the fleet. And Portugal had been there for it.
As the three of us sat back in stunned silence, Maria pulled a tissue from the pocket of her sweater and dabbed at her eyes.
I had all the proof I needed to write a game-changing book. Every single thing I hoped to prove was proven, but I still felt dissatisfied. When the letters ended, Julia was still in England and Fernando was still in Portugal.
"I wonder what happened to them," I said out loud.
"He died," Maria said with a sniff.
"What?" I sat up straighter. In all my research, I had failed to note the date of Fernando's death. Or maybe I had read it, but it had meant nothing to me at the time.
"He died in Brazil, a year after they went into exile. One of those tropical fevers."
"Oh." I didn't know how it was possible to feel such despair when I just got everything I ever wanted. For one crazed moment, I would have traded the proof of Portugal's naval involvement if I could just find out that Fernando went to England and found Julia. That they had ended up together.
"It's such a terrible shame, isn't it?" Maria sighed, glancing across the letters scattered on the table.
"Yes."
"Bella," Edward said, laying a hand on my forearm. I blinked and came up out of my fog. "We should go. It's over an hour back to Lisbon."
"Oh, of course. Maria, I'm sorry I got so carried away. It's just these letters…"
"No, no!" she protested. "No apologies. And you'll be back tomorrow to finish, yes?"
I smiled at her enthusiasm. "You do understand how significant this find is, don't you? I need to document this, and I'll be writing a book. Maybe two."
"Of course, you'll come back for any information you need. It's time, isn't it? That the world should see their story?" Her eyes were bright and glassy in the low light from the library table lamps.
"Yes," I agreed, "It's definitely time."
*0*0*
We'd been driving back towards Lisbon for half an hour in silence. Edward was the one to break it.
"For somebody that just won the historian's lottery, you seem awfully quiet. What are you thinking?"
I shook my head. "Just… overwhelmed, I guess. It's so depressing that it didn't work out. I bet Julia ended up a spinster. Hell, she already was a spinster and then…"
"What?"
"She met him and he got her. Did you hear what she said about being too out-spoken, too off-putting? She just… well, she kind of reminded me of me."
Edward's eyebrows shot up. "You? How do you see that?"
I gave him a disbelieving look. "You know that's exactly what you used to think about me. All that and a whole lot worse. You just didn't use all those pretty nineteenth-century words for it."
"Yeah, but that was before I really got to know you. You're not out-spoken, you're opinionated. And you're not off-putting. You just fight like hell for what you want."
"So did she. And he got her. And then he died. That just really sucks."
Edward nodded slowly. "It does suck. But you know what doesn't suck? The story you're going to write about them. Maybe Fernando and Julia never got their happy ending, but you're about to give them the next best thing. Immortality."
I smiled and reached across in the dark of the car until I could rest my hand on his thigh. "Thank you. I think I forgot to tell you that while I was in there fighting away for what I wanted. It means a lot to me that you're here for this. That you helped me so much."
His teeth flashed white in the dark. "See? Who said you were a ballbuster? You're a creampuff."
"You said it. All the time. You used to call me Little Napoleon."
Edward's mouth fell open and he made an unintelligible squeak of outrage. "I did not!"
"Edward. Shut it. Everybody called me that in grad school. And you started it."
He opened his mouth, but apparently couldn't think of anything to say, so he shut it again. Then after a moment, he tried again. "It was only because of your concentration. The Napoleon thing."
"And because I'm a ball-buster."
"A little. But in the best kind of way."
"I don't think there's a good way to get your balls busted."
"If you're doing the busting, I'm willing to see for myself."
"Is that an innuendo?"
"Nope. It's an invitation."
*0*0*
By the time we exited the elevator on our floor, I felt exhausted. Drained. My feet sunk into the insanely plush carpet lining the hall as I trailed after Edward to the door. He swiped his key card and let us in. I followed him inside, but paused just inside the door when he didn't turn on the light.
"Edward? Is something wrong?"
The French doors were still open, and a soft breeze blew through the room, smelling of sea salt and flowers. The moon was full, so as I stood there, my eyes adjusted to the silver light. I could pick out the edges of furniture and the snowy expanse of the bed.
"Nothing wrong." His voice, when he spoke, was low and right next to my ear. I jumped and a chill raced down my spine as his warm breath hit my neck.
I let my bag full of books and papers slide off my shoulder and hit the floor with a thump.
"Do you know what my favorite part of today was?" Edward asked. His fingers touched the small of my back and his palm flattened out against my skin. My exhaustion drained away, replaced by a humming awareness. In the dark, I could hear every tiny move he made, even the rustle of his clothes as he breathed on my neck. He leaned in a little closer and I could almost feel his lips on my skin. I sighed and closed my eyes.
"Making an unparalleled historic discovery?"
"No."
"Having a front row seat to the re-scripting of the most important naval battle of the nineteenth-century?"
"Nope."
"Sofia the dog humping your leg?"
"Uh-uh. Although she was hot."
I turned my head just a little, ready to engage him instead of just playing along. "What was your favorite part of today, Edward?"
He slid his palm straight up my spine, up under my hair, to cradle the back of my neck. "That moment in the library, standing next to you, before we'd opened any of the boxes."
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His lips were slightly parted, the bottom one sheened where he'd licked it. His eyes were half-closed, dark and shadowed. "The anticipation…"
"The smell of the paper…"
"The dust…"
"Jesus Christ, I wanted you so badly."
"Me too. On the table."
"Yessss."
He groaned and we fell on each other, a frantic scramble of lips and hands and tangled limbs, as we stumbled across the room towards the bed. When we hit it and began to fall, Edward twisted us. My back hit the bed and he hit me. In seconds, he was on me, kissing me, pushing up on the bed, levering himself over my body.
His hand slid down my side, wrapping around my thigh and hitching it up over his hip. When his hips hit mine, I moaned into his mouth. He bit my bottom lip just as his hands slipped up under my shirt. I arched my back in an invitation. I wanted him to take off my shirt, put his mouth on me. Either one. Both. He complied. With both.
My shirt and my bra were a memory. Edward's long-fingered, talented hands were touching every inch of my bare skin while he took care of my breasts with his mouth.
"God, that feels good," I moaned, fisting my hands in his hair. I could feel him smile against me before he nipped me again with his teeth. I hissed and then held my breath as his palm slid down over my belly to the waistband of my jeans. He started to follow his hand down with his lips, but I grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged. It was time for my beautiful man to be more naked.
He reared back and pulled his shirt off over his head, flinging it far across the room. He started to lean back over me, but he stopped, just looking at me instead.
"What?" I asked.
He reached out and ran his fingertips from the base of my neck, straight between my breasts, and down over my stomach. "You look so beautiful right now," he murmured. He did, too. The moonlight was picking out the planes and edges of his perfect face, making his eyes glint.
"You, too."
"I wanna do this with you in a library some time."
"Do what?"
His hand slipped under the waistband of my jeans. "This. You. Me. Hot throw-down sex. Library. God, doesn't that sound like the hottest thing ever?"
I growled and reached for him, gripping the back of his neck and pulling his mouth back down to mine. He kissed me back, working my pants open and his hand inside. His fingers hit the mark and I gasped, shutting my eyes tight as he wound me up unbelievably fast. I must have had a lot of tension to work out.
"We can't have sex in a library," I moaned.
"Sure we can. If we're quiet. Can you be quiet, Bella?"
"Oh, Jesus, not now I can't."
And then I wasn't quiet. Not at all. There was no possible way to be quiet as Edward's fingers worked their magic on me and pushed me straight into a mind-blowing orgasm.
"Need you now," Edward muttered. I was still a boneless, post-orgasmic puddle, but he was a frantic blur, pulling my jeans and panties down over my feet, tugging me further onto the bed, stripping off the rest of his own clothes.
He shifted his weight over me and my legs fell open for him. "We have done it in a library," I said, just as he lined himself up with me. Why was I still talking about this?
"Huh?" Edward must have wondered the same thing.
"Sex. In a library. We did it in grad school. Kind of a lot."
"Oh, yeah. Good times," Edward said with a grunt as he pushed into me. I arched back, burying my head in the pillow. "But our carrels don't count."
"Why not?" He set up a hard, urgent pace. I had no idea why I was still trying to have this conversation, because what he was doing to my body was making it hard to remember to breathe, never mind converse coherently.
"That was like my office. The door locked. Not the same thing at all. I'm thinking…" Edward dropped his head into the crook of my neck, pressing his lips to my skin and then whispering in my ear. "the Rare Books Room."
"Oh, God."
He pushed up on his forearms, picking up his pace. I couldn't do anything but hang onto him as every sex-saturated muscle in my body tightened and I raced towards the edge all over again. Edward was gasping, loud, punishing breaths, as his body pistoned over me.
"You want it too, don't you?"
"You? Sex? Rare books?" I gasped. "Oh, yeah."
"So fucking hot," he moaned. And I was done. Everything went white-hot. He was right behind me, his hands digging into my hips as he shouted my name into the dark.
Many long quiet moments later, we lay spent and slightly sweaty, our legs and hands tangled in each other.
"We are such freaks," I muttered.
"Speak for yourself. I, for one, find nothing wrong in being aroused at the thought of a good, well-stocked library. Especially if my hot girlfriend is naked in the middle of it."
I rolled over onto my stomach, propping my chin on his chest. He raised a hand to smooth my hair out of my face. I felt exhausted, elated, overwhelmed… and most importantly, ridiculously in love.
"You'd better control yourself at Maria's tomorrow. The last thing that nice woman needs is us defiling the family archives."
He chuckled and I felt the vibrations through my whole body. "I wouldn't dream of it. There's no way I'd distract you from what you need to get done in that archive tomorrow."
In a flash, the enormity of the day caught up to me, all the things that had happened and everything I'd learned. "Oh, my god, Edward. It really happened, didn't it?"
He smiled the moonlight glinting off his perfect white teeth. "Bee Girl, not only did it happen, today was only the beginning."
I pushed up until my face was over his. I ran a finger down his temple, over his cheekbone and over his chin. "For both of us. I want you there with me for every second of it, Edward. I know this wasn't the story you set out to find, and what we learned today really messed things up for you in some ways. But I still want you with me. On my side. If you're not there, it's almost like it didn't really happen."
I saw the emotion flash across his face and he reached up to grip the back of my neck. "Bella, you think I really care about that? I'd happily be proved wrong a thousand times over if it means you can be proved right the way you were today. Because I am on your side. Screw history, screw the facts. I'm rooting for you. Always you."