Title

Aldana Steel

The Chronicle:

Constanza's Love Letter (21 Octavus 1668)

Constanza carefully trimmed the nib of her quill pen, trying it on a small scrap of parchment and adjusting the trim until she was satisfied.  She smoothed the sheet of vellum and squared its edge with the table’s.  Dipping the pen in the ink, she let it drip over the ink well for a second, considering.

Dear Captain, she wrote.  She stopped, stared at the greeting, then crossed it out and started another line below it.

Honoured Sir

My Lord

Dear Friend

Señor

She crossed the entries out with a glare, one after the other, chewing her lower lip.  With an exclamation of disgust, she put the pen in its stand and stood up like a coiled spring.  She started pacing her cabin, a very short pacing space indeed, circling the writing table as she shook her head and berated herself.

“This is useless.  He’ll think me an idiot – again!  Better to stay silent than to disgrace myself.”

She stopped her pacing for a moment, stared hard at the sheet of vellum, then resumed her pacing.

“But if he thinks…  Oh, Theus, I can’t let him believe I don’t care…  I’m being a coward.”

She stopped again, clenched her fists at her side.  She took a deep breath, relaxed her tensed muscles, then glanced at the waiting page again.  Resolutely, she walked back to the table, sat herself down, and pulled a fresh sheet.  Picking up the pen again, she began writing.
 
 

 

Beloved,

 
Looking at the word I just wrote, I realize how very presumptuous it sounds, but better that you think me froward or gushing than indifferent.  Alas, I have no gift for poetry and so must resort to the baldest prose to answer your tender words.  Your letters have given me great joy, so great I would not have believed it possible.  Were it not for those reminders, I could not convince myself that someone of so little consequence as myself could have earned your attention.

Never believe that I am being cold towards you.  My heart is yours, as it has been nearly since the moment we first met.  If I have appeared too reserved, it is only that I am so troubled in your presence.  I fear doing or saying something foolish that would lose me your esteem.  

And so I pray that the demented story I offered you the last time we met will not have discouraged the sentiments you have expressed before in your letters.  I could not blame you for not believing me, for I have questioned my own sanity.  But I cannot find words to tell you how thankful, relieved, and happy I was to see you unharmed. 

I wish to thank you for trusting me enough to ask for my assistance, with this matter and future ones.  I beg you to remember that this help is ever yours for the asking, if I may serve in any capacity.  

May Theus keep you safe until we meet again.  I shall count the days with impatience.

Your loving

C.

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Credits:  Text © Sophie Lagacé, 2001, 2002.