Forever Yours
2 June 1841
Dearest Frederick,
Years ago your failure to respond drove me to stop sending those letters which I mailed you with declining regularity for two years after we parted. I expect nothing different from this letter. Indeed, I doubt it shall ever reach your hands.
In all this time—six years to be precise—I have received not a single word from you. I have no inclination of where you are or how you may be doing. Yet still I cannot keep you off my mind. Every time I light a cigar I think of that first kiss we shared, of the crisp winter air and the taste of smoke on your lips. Every time I gaze upon my pocket watch, a stolen souvenir from my time with you, I think of the day we met, the last night we spent together, and every moment in between.
Do you remember my Aunt Evangeline? You came with me once to visit her, and when we arrived at her modest home, asked how my aunt, the daughter of King William IV, came to be married to a simple farmer of Chesterian descent. And I told you the story as follows,
Many years ago, the young Princess Evangeline, eldest daughter of the King of Corsica, was engaged to Lord Edward Griffin. King William had no son to succeed him and had promised his daughter to a reputable young man who may assume the throne upon his death. Evangeline, however, had other plans. Many years before she had fallen in love with a stable hand who earned his meager wages tending to the horses at the Royal Palace. He was a lowly immigrant from Chester known as Marcello Dawson. Despite her engagement, the princess carried on a discrete love affair with the stable hand. Evidently, they were not discrete enough, for soon Lord Griffin discovered them together in the stables. Enraged, he swore to kill Dawson. He drew his long sword and cornered the young man against a wall. In a controversial act of self-defense, Dawson drew a pistol and shot Griffin through the stomach. He knew well he would be hanged for such an offense, and resolved to flee the city. Despite Dawson’s protests, Evangeline insisted upon joining him. She left behind all she had, renouncing her family and her claim to the throne, to be with the man she loved. It wasn’t until many years later, after the death of both their mother and father, that my mother did reconcile with her estranged sister, and even now she and her children forfeit any claim to royal lineage.
I mention this here, my beloved Frederick, to say that I would have done the very same for you. ‘tis no exaggeration to say so. I never wanted this leisurely life to begin with. If presented with the alternative of a life of hardship with you at my side, I would have taken it without second thought. I would have, my dear, because I loved you with all my being. I still do.
All the time I tell myself I must stop living in the past. I must stop this foolishness of dwelling on what may have been, of imagining the life you and I may have had together. But it is hard to turn away from the past when the future holds so much uncertainty.
Tomorrow, after years of discussion on the matter, I shall at last be united in marriage with Miss Lily Cunningham. She is a fine young woman, and over the years I have grown very fond of her. She is considerate and kind, intuitive and wise, and she is undeniably beautiful. I could not ask for a better bride. Yet I cannot bring myself to say that I love her. Not in the way that I love you, my dear Frederick. The love I have for you is of a sort that even the most fortunate men may enjoy only once in a lifetime. I shall never again love someone so intensely and completely as I do you.
After today, I shall not bother you with letters. I have told myself I mustn’t. Tomorrow, I will be a married man, and it would be entirely inappropriate for me to maintain a correspondence with a lost love. Consider this my final farewell. I suppose it is well overdue.
Forever yours,
Robert
Years ago your failure to respond drove me to stop sending those letters which I mailed you with declining regularity for two years after we parted. I expect nothing different from this letter. Indeed, I doubt it shall ever reach your hands.
In all this time—six years to be precise—I have received not a single word from you. I have no inclination of where you are or how you may be doing. Yet still I cannot keep you off my mind. Every time I light a cigar I think of that first kiss we shared, of the crisp winter air and the taste of smoke on your lips. Every time I gaze upon my pocket watch, a stolen souvenir from my time with you, I think of the day we met, the last night we spent together, and every moment in between.
Do you remember my Aunt Evangeline? You came with me once to visit her, and when we arrived at her modest home, asked how my aunt, the daughter of King William IV, came to be married to a simple farmer of Chesterian descent. And I told you the story as follows,
Many years ago, the young Princess Evangeline, eldest daughter of the King of Corsica, was engaged to Lord Edward Griffin. King William had no son to succeed him and had promised his daughter to a reputable young man who may assume the throne upon his death. Evangeline, however, had other plans. Many years before she had fallen in love with a stable hand who earned his meager wages tending to the horses at the Royal Palace. He was a lowly immigrant from Chester known as Marcello Dawson. Despite her engagement, the princess carried on a discrete love affair with the stable hand. Evidently, they were not discrete enough, for soon Lord Griffin discovered them together in the stables. Enraged, he swore to kill Dawson. He drew his long sword and cornered the young man against a wall. In a controversial act of self-defense, Dawson drew a pistol and shot Griffin through the stomach. He knew well he would be hanged for such an offense, and resolved to flee the city. Despite Dawson’s protests, Evangeline insisted upon joining him. She left behind all she had, renouncing her family and her claim to the throne, to be with the man she loved. It wasn’t until many years later, after the death of both their mother and father, that my mother did reconcile with her estranged sister, and even now she and her children forfeit any claim to royal lineage.
I mention this here, my beloved Frederick, to say that I would have done the very same for you. ‘tis no exaggeration to say so. I never wanted this leisurely life to begin with. If presented with the alternative of a life of hardship with you at my side, I would have taken it without second thought. I would have, my dear, because I loved you with all my being. I still do.
All the time I tell myself I must stop living in the past. I must stop this foolishness of dwelling on what may have been, of imagining the life you and I may have had together. But it is hard to turn away from the past when the future holds so much uncertainty.
Tomorrow, after years of discussion on the matter, I shall at last be united in marriage with Miss Lily Cunningham. She is a fine young woman, and over the years I have grown very fond of her. She is considerate and kind, intuitive and wise, and she is undeniably beautiful. I could not ask for a better bride. Yet I cannot bring myself to say that I love her. Not in the way that I love you, my dear Frederick. The love I have for you is of a sort that even the most fortunate men may enjoy only once in a lifetime. I shall never again love someone so intensely and completely as I do you.
After today, I shall not bother you with letters. I have told myself I mustn’t. Tomorrow, I will be a married man, and it would be entirely inappropriate for me to maintain a correspondence with a lost love. Consider this my final farewell. I suppose it is well overdue.
Forever yours,
Robert
♠ ♠ ♠
More to come from here! Let me know what you think so far in the comments. Thanks for reading!~ Celia