A Letter to a Friend

          1819, Bath, England.

    She crossed the room to the red mahogany desk. Standing before the desk she ran loving fingers over the smooth, cool surface, then looked up to gaze out of the window. It was winter. The leafless branches of tress were almost stark except for a light dusting of snow. The rest of the garden was muted as well. It seemed as if the layer of snow had acted as a dampener, or barrier, like a closed door. On the other side of the door was a large, noisy roomful of laughing, colourful people, and once the door was slammed shut, everything was muted. The sound, the colour. That’s how it was when the snow came.

    Her lips turned up in a wry smile, thinking how ridiculous her morbid thoughts were. She loved the snow. From a small child, she had always told anyone who would listen, that winter was her favourite season.

    She supposed her mood was due to the fact that her best friend had recently married , and was now on her honeymoon in Greece. Greece of all places!

    Rachel sighed and turned back to face the room. She hugged herself rubbing her arms to warm them. She crossed the room again to ring the bell pull.

    A distinguished, white-haired manservant stuck his head through the door. “How may I be of service, Lady?”

    “Could you please stoke the fire for me, Shelby? It’s getting a bit chilly.”

    “Indeed it is, madam.”  He bowed in her direction and went to do as he was bid.

    When the fire was roaring happily, Rachel turned to him with a grateful smile.

    “Thank you, Shelby. Without a decent fire, the library would be unbearable.”

    “Very good, madam.”  He bowed again before turning to leave the room, closing the door gently behind him.

    She smothered a smile at his formal bearing. Rachel had known him since she was a little girl, when he had used to spoil her by giving her sweets and piggy back rides. But when she had married, the year before, he had stopped using a familiar attitude with her, when he had come to work for them.

    When she had demanded why, he said: “You’re a titled lady now Miss Rachel, I am only giving you the respect that you are due.”

    She knew she couldn’t have changed his mind, and didn’t bother trying, but sometimes glimpsed his smile softening fondly when she said or did something outrageous that reminded him of the little girl she used to be.

    She picked up her letter writing box and brought it with her as she settled down in a comfy, high-backed chair in front of the fire.

    She stared into the flames, hypnotized for a minute. She thought back to her own marriage and wondered how her best friend had felt about it at the time.

    Rachel liked Christine’s husband. He was handsome, amiable, witty and had an adventurous spirit to match her friend’s. He was her match in every way.

    She smiled, thinking how much Christine must be enjoying exploring the ancient Greek ruins with her husband, and former spy for the Crown. He had retired from that business after the war finished, and had agreed, if Christine would marry him, to become her partner in a “private eye” venture she wanted to start up.

    On their return, Rachel knew, husband and wife would start to tackle any unsolved mysteries together as a team. She truly felt sorry for any criminals that crossed their paths.

    She opened the box in to pull out a few sheets of paper, a quill, and a small bottle of black ink.

    It had only been a week since Christine had left for Greece, but Rachel was missing her terribly. She didn’t know how she was going to stand the next four weeks.

    To occupy her mind, she began to write to her friend abroad.

    Dearest Chris,

                      I trust married life suits you? If not, run away and come home! (sigh ) I suppose it is too much to ask you to come home early? What am I talking about? Of course it is!

    Anyway, enough of my selfish pouting! How is Greece? Beautiful, I trust. Once you are home you must simply tell me everything!

    I know you have only been gone a short while, but things have suddenly turned eventful in your absence.

    Do you remember Nadine from the Academy? She was the blonde who was very huggable and had an affinity for poetry. Well, she and her sister, Rebecca, have gone touring in Italy. It was all very unexpected. The on-dit is that she was fleeing an unwanted suitor! Perhaps Sir Washie, do you think?

    Also, dear Chantelle, called in yesterday afternoon to tell me her good news. Lord Baxter finally proposed! She said Andrew got fed up with all her hinting, and proposed just to stop her nagging! It was a riot! Of course, I believe he does truly care for her, so I am happy for them. She said they were to be wed in the Spring, so you’d best be sure to return by then. I will not countenance you being away any longer!

    Lord Black is still resisting Miss Sheridan Hunt’s attempts to get him to tie the knot. I am sure he is quite fond of her, but to him Bachelorism is not just a state of being , it is a religion. I am not sure whether we will be seeing him get “leg-shackled” any time in the near future. But Sheridan seems confident she will wear him down sooner or later, and I for one think, “More power to her!”.

    Now, enough gossip! Let us take a trip down memory lane. It seems as if it were only yesterday we were walking down the halls of Miss Beverly Hills’, Academy for Girls. That fine learning establishment we despised except for the socializing aspect. It was where we laughed, we cried ( well I cried), and had fun, terrorizing teachers and making fools of ourselves.

    What times they were! They remain cherished memories, now and for the rest of my life. This is mostly due to you. We are so different, yet we are the same, our friendship works because we want it to. And if we were to never see each other again, you would always remain my cherished friend. For all our constant disagreements, I cannot remember one fault I have ever seen in you. You are my friend for Life.

                                                                                           From your True Friend

                                                                                                        Rachel

    A tear coursed down her cheek as she looked down at the letter in her hands. Then she choked back a laugh, as she hastily wiped the tear away.

    Christine would surely chastise her for being a watering pot if she had been there!

    Carefully setting aside the box and other writing equipment, she slowly rose to her feet. She walked to stand in front of the fire, gazing into it’s depths and warming herself. Smiling, she made a decision. Taking one final look at the papers in her hand, she threw them into the fire. She watched as the paper blackened and shriveled.

    It was too sentimental at the end. She would write another letter soon, but not right now. She was lost in the warm feelings of remembrance. She was happy again.

    Determined to share her happiness with someone, she decided to persuade her husband to take her to the park, where if the snow was thick enough, they could make snow angels!

    She stored thoughts of her friend at the back of her mind to return to later on.

    They would be reunited soon enough. And when they were, all the quiet would be gone again. She smiled.

    She couldn’t wait!

~*~

Dedicated to Christine! My friend!