Letter Collection B:
It seemed that ages passed since our last encounter with the master criminal or his son. You can imagine the surprise and welcome I received upon our return, and even more surprise when Ramses and I announced our intention to marry. Ramses suggested that we wait until he had a suitable enough income to support us, but of course I dismissed it as ridiculous, for my fortune is more than enough to support us and a family for several lifetimes!
Ages seemed to pass since our adventure with the master criminal's son. It was the day before the wedding, when a mysterious gift appeared on my bureau. A package wrapped in silk, and an accompanying envelope resting against it. I admit, Lia, it was with a trembling hand that I opened it, for the strangest premonition came over me! And the note read:
"My sweetest Nefret, allow me to extend my congratulations for your impending nuptials. I would be a liar to pretend I do not wish it were I in the groom's place, but a thief must know when he has been bested by the better man. This was saved with the intention of serving as a wedding gift, and so it is, in an ending much more different than I'd imagined. I love you with all my heart, and always will, and wish you the utmost happiness with your chosen one.
Forever yours, Lawrence."
Resting the note upon the bureau, I unwrapped the bundle, to find the inlaid bracelet I'd loved so dearly from the princess' cache. It was with a guilty awe that I clasped it upon my arm, and admired its ancient gleam, its skilled craftsmanship in the candle light. I knew I couldn't keep it, but to have saved at least one piece of the princess' treasure seemed a triumph of the day.
The letter itself I folded carefully, and placed in a cache of my private things. There are some things a woman must keep, that a husband needn't ever lay eyes on. I decided I would wait until after the wedding to reveal the bracelet, and return it to the collection of the Cairo museum, where it regrettably belonged. Where people would ogle it from behind a glass casing, and never truly know the stories of the people who had touched it, and whose lives it had touched.