A Gentleman's Confession:

The night had ended only a few moments before, and Thomas left to call for the Carriage. Standing out in the frigid night air, he stared blindly at the grandeur of the estate around him. He inhaled, letting the chill of the night penetrate his lungs, savoring the feeling of being alive under the great expanse of the horizon. It was liberating.
      He wasn't certain how this change had come about, he only knew that everything within him had come undone. But maybe whatever had come undone had opened his soul: unlocked the something that had always held him back, and now all the universe was spilling into the cracks between what used to be. His mind raced; his stomach was in knots; his heart was reeling. And his arm was on fire.
      A sound at the top of the stairs where he stood caused him to turn around. Thomas had to wait for the door to close before he could see the currently silhouetted newcomer. As his eyes adjusted again to the dark, Thomas recognized Cecilia's silent form pausing at the door. He was, for the thousandth time, taken aback by her beauty--noticing the way the moon grave luster to her hair, how the breeze coaxed a blush onto her cheeks and nose, and how, even in the darkness, her eyes shone almost like a lighthouse--drawing in everything and everyone around her.
     Suddenly struck in that moment by the realization of how deep his affection for her was, he knew irrevocably that this arrangement could not go on. Had he not already seen how torturous it could become? After only a touch of their hands, he had come completely undone; he could only imagine the havoc furthering an association of this standing would reek on his life.
      Thomas took one step toward her. It was time to put an end to this. Walking nearer, he began constructing the words in his mind--drafting them as he had done so many times with his letters.
  
My dearest love,
    I know your views of me to be indifferent, but I can no longer keep my silence.

     Taking yet another step, Thomas was confident he could finally say the words he had so often fantasized. He continued on with his confession, convinced of the truth of his words.

    For the silence has suffocated me; stalking me like a ghost through dinners and parties and balls, preying off the fear I have of rejection, reminding me of the convenience of silence. And though it protects my sense of comfort, the convenience of my silence has become my demon; for is it not a curse to be held back from your potential? To constantly be haunted by the threat of what could be?

     The thought outraged him; to think he was doing this to himself. But all that would end soon.

    No. From this day forward I shall refuse to let my demon control me. I have lived too long in the shadow of its reign, and now I must tell you what my demon seeks to hide; and that is that I am yours. For you fill my mind, my heart, my soul, and not a day has gone by without the knowledge that if it weren't for your presence I would be lost to the abyss of this lonely world.
      There, love. Now you know the truth, and though my demon may consume me for it, know it was worth the hope of you.

Suddenly the door opened and another person joined them on the stairs. Thomas hesitated, and it was just enough for the man to reach Cecilia. Thomas shrunk back into the shadows, suddenly suspicious of the encounter.
      Cecilia's laughter pierced the night, and she leaned in to hear the man's next comment, coyly placing her hand on his sleeve. She shot him a look of pretended shame. Thomas knew that look. Cecilia was quite unabashedly flirting with him.
      Thomas waited until they departed company to inform her the carriage had come. Walking near her, he gruffly laced her arm through his. "We're leaving," he exclaimed.
      The ride home was stiff and awkward--a change the friends weren't exactly used to. When they reached her home, he got out of the carriage and helped her down. Without a word, Cecilia walked to the door. She opened it, but did not go in. She turned and started at him for a moment. She hesitated, and then spoke,"Are you cross with me because I told those women we were in love? I was only trying to prove a point--they don't believe in love, you see. Nobody seems to believe it exists." She mumbled her next comment mostly to herself, but Thomas heard it all the same. "Maybe I'm going crazy. Or maybe they're right, and I'm just as naive as they say."
     All thought of being angry dissipated at her words. Thomas walked to where she stood. "I'm not cross with you, Lia." he said softly, using her nickname like he did whenever she reminded him of how it was when they were children, of how very vulnerable she could be at times.
      He placed a hand on her cheek, not being able to help himself. He raised her downcast eyes to his and said, "And I definitely don't think you're crazy."
      Hope filled her eyes. "Then you think it exists?"
      Thomas couldn't help but smile, letting his fingers slip delicately into her hair. "Of course it exists."
      The pair of them stood like that for an eternity, no longer needing words but communicating from soul to soul; heart to heart. Eventually, Thomas pulled away. Clearing his throat he said, "It's getting late; I should go." He then turned and walked back to the carriage.
      Just as he reached for the handle, her quiet voice stopped him. "Thomas? " she waited for him to face her before continuing, "Thank you for believing in me."