NOTHING SHORT OF THE TRUTH

It is late when I return home exhausted from the events of the day. Rachel slips through the open door, bobbing her head at me, but keeping her eyes down, as she passes. Meanwhile, Anne takes my wig and coat in silence and nods toward the open door to the dining room where Elizabeth is already eating alone at the head of the table. I run a hand through the short bristles of my brown hair, usually kept hidden, and Elizabeth barely glances up as I sit down next to her.

I try not to watch her too much as I serve myself, and she eats, her gaze fixed to her plate. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, a fact that she intends to hide by keeping her head down. The silence between us is unbearable, and I wonder how long it will last. An hour? A day? A week?

"I'm sorry for everything that happened today," I say consolingly, reaching over to grasp her free hand lying stolidly on the table. "It was not right of me to act in the way I did."

Chewing and swallowing slowly, Elizabeth sets her fork down on her plate carefully and resolutely shakes her head.

"No, you had every right," she says, still staring downward.

My brow furrows, and she turns toward me, her eyes gleaming again. She bites her lip as though holding back from saying something, and then leans forward. Her voice is low so that I have to strain to hear it.

"He's been writing to me, James," she says, slowly, her eyes wild and terrified, "He's been writing me this whole while."

"He wrote to you?" I repeat, disbelief in my voice.

She nods, stricken, and bursts into tears. Through her sobs she manages to choke out, "He wrote three times, and I was never able to answer. I should have told you!"

She buries her face in her hands as her shoulders shake with each hiccupping gasp of air she takes.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth," I say, "Sssh, please. Everything is all right now."

As her cries lessen in intensity I am able to draw her hands away from her face. Holding them in my own she eventually quiets and looks down at the space between us.

"I am sure you will want to know why he wrote," she says quietly, her voice still shaking with emotion.

I draw one of her hands to my lips and kiss it tenderly, shaking my head.

"No, you do not have to tell me. I would not wish to cause you pain."

Her head snaps up, and her eyes are wide, almost shocked.

"I must tell you," she insists, "You are my husband, and you have a right to know."

"Go on then," I encourage her, my stomach clenching with anxiety at what she may reveal to me.

"After you asked for my hand I went to see William, and we concocted a plan that would take us far away from Port Royal. We were daft to think we could run away from our problems so easily, nevertheless, we planned to leave within the month. That is, until I found out I was carrying his child. I knew then that it would not be safe for Will to stay here or for me to travel to some distant land, so I sent Will on ahead to prepare a place for the baby and I. We would be married as soon as we could."

She licks her lips nervously as the story spills out, and I can only listen passively.

"Of course, as you know, none of that came to fruition," she finishes, and for a moment there is the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "Will wrote to me to inform me of his progress in securing a home for us, and his last letter was sent to notify me of his arrival in Port Royal. I did not read it, however, and so his presence today was not made known to me until much too late."

She smiles at me fully then, a sad smile full of love. "Not that it matters now anyway."

"I am glad you have spoken of it, Elizabeth," I say, stroking her thumb, "There should be no secrets between us."

She nods. "It is I who should be reprimanded," she says, "for you have kept no secrets from me."

I am reminded suddenly of the young woman in Tortuga, Beth, whose wisdom gave me the strength to come back to Port Royal and become the man I was supposed to be. I shift uncomfortably, and Elizabeth raises a concerned eyebrow.

"I am not so innocent," I admit carefully, "When I went to Tortuga I became quite drunk and was sorely tempted to sleep with another woman."

"Because you could not sleep with me? James, I am truly sorry. I know it my duty as your wife, but I-"

I hold up a hand to stop her. "Not because of that, but because I was heartbroken and wallowing in my own grief. That does not excuse my behaviour or the desires I held in my heart. You are my wife, and I owed you that much."

Elizabeth looks at me with an amused expression, one corner of her mouth turned up slightly. She frowns suddenly.

"And I owe you so much more," she says forlornly.

I lean forward and catch her lips against mine as she looks up. She does not pull back, but reciprocates enthusiastically until I finally break away.

"You have given me so much already," I say, taking her hand again, "So, perhaps you think you owe me more, but I assure you, just having you is enough for me."