The Deception

“A letter for you, Miss,” Fanny announced as she handed the envelope to Clara.

Clara took it and frowned when she saw the name on it.  Why did he write me?  Why did he not come instead?  “Thank you, Fanny.” As soon as the young maid was gone, she ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter, her fingers trembling with excitement.

As she read the contents, her face turned ashen.  The sheet shook in her hand and she gripped the chair with her other hand.   The letter read:

Dear Clara,

I hope you are well.  I am still in London taking care of the business matters for which my Aunt asked me to attend to.  I don’t quite know how to say this but my affections have long been engaged elsewhere.  Lady Agatha and I are to be married upon my return to Devonshire.  If I have given you reason to believe that my feelings for you were more than brotherly affection, please forgive me.  I will always remember you with fondness and felicity.

Your friend,

Raymond

She collapsed into the chair as her legs gave way under her.  He never loved her.  That was what he said.  He had been in love with Lady Agatha all this time.  Not once did she ever suspect that his feelings were engaged elsewhere.  He had always been so attentive to her and she could not have imagined the tenderness which she had seen in his features.   Had it all been an illusion?  Had she imagined that he loved her?

She dissolved into tears, her heart breaking.  How could she had been such a fool?  She had given her heart to a man who had given his to another.  How was she going to face her family and friends?  They too were under the impression that Raymond and she were soon to announce their engagement based on the warm and affectionate sentiments they had expressed toward each other.  It had all be a lie–on his part.  She had been deceived.

Pain gave way to seething anger.  She crumbled the letter and getting up, she rushed over to the fireplace and threw it on the fire.  She watched it burn.  Oh, how she hated him.  The love she had once felt for him had now turned to hate.  She never wanted to see him again.

It took Clara several years to get over Raymond.  During that time she was frequently in the company of an older gentleman whose devotion she grew to appreciate.  Eventually, they got married and Clara grew to love him dearly.  She never saw Raymond again.  He and Lady Agatha moved to France.  She no longer bore any ill-feelings toward the man she had once loved.  She wished him well.

 

victorian woman grips chair as she reads letter

The Declaration

Friends since they were children,

Eliza never once imagined that

their relationship would blossom

into a romantic one.  Franklin

was so handsome and he had

his pick of very beautiful and

accomplished young women.

 

Eliza had always dreaded the

day when he would marry.

Her feelings for him had

changed when she turned

sixteen.  It was hard being

around him and pretending

that he was like a brother to

her.  It was even harder seeing

him with other girls.

 

When she and Franklin went

for their walks, always accompanied by

a relative, she would ask him

questions about a particular girl

to gage his feelings but he always

changed the subject.  She thought

perhaps he had developed an

attachment to the girl but

didn’t want to say anything until

he was sure that his affection

was reciprocated.

 

Then the moment she always dreaded

came.  They were sitting in their favorite

spot under her aunt’s supervision.  It was

a beautiful, sunny day.  Eliza breathed in the air,

smiling as the sun hit her face.  She held a rose in

her hand which Franklin had picked for her.

That was very sweet of him, she thought.

He was always doing thoughtful things.

How she adored him.  Sighing, she turned

to her friend who was watching her.

 

There was curious expression on his face

and she grew concerned.  “Is something the

matter?” she asked.

 

“Over the years I have developed feelings

for someone close to me and I haven’t had

the courage to tell her.  I am not sure of how

she feels about me.  What do you think I should

do?”

 

Eliza blinked, trying hard not to show the pain

that had gripped her heart.  She quickly turned

her head away from him so that he could not

see the tears in her eyes.  She blinked them back.

The last thing she wanted was to break down in

front of him.  He must never know how she felt

about him.  Never.  “I-I think you should tell her,”

she said quietly.  “You won’t know her feelings

unless you declare yours.”

 

There was a moment’s silence and then she

felt Franklin reach for her hand and his

fingers closed round hers.  His hand felt so

warm and strong.  She wanted to pull her hand

away, get up and run from there.  She wanted to

go to her room and lock herself in and cry until

she couldn’t cry anymore.

 

“Eliza, you and I have been friends since child-

hood.  The happiest moments of my life have

been with you.  I can’t imagine being with

anyone else.  Eliza, I love you.”

 

Her head spun round, her eyes wide with

shock.  “What?” she exclaimed.

 

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing the tears

from her cheeks.

 

“You love me?” She couldn’t believe it.

 

“Yes.  I have loved you for a long time

now but dared not declare my feelings

because I didn’t want to run the risk of

ruining our friendship.  You never showed

particular favour to any of the young men

so I hoped that perhaps you might be

more inclined to develop a romantic interest

in a man whom you consider to be your friend.”

 

Eliza beamed through her tears, her heart

bursting with joy.  “Oh Franklin,” she cried.  “I

love you.  I loved you since I was sixteen.  I wanted

so much to tell you but was afraid that you won’t

be pleased.”

 

His eyes were tender as they searched her face.  “Oh

my dear Eliza,” he murmured.  ” We would have

spared each other undue anguish if we had

declared our love before.  Well, the matter has been

resolved.  We love each other and it means now that

I can ask you to marry me without fear of rejection.”

He got down on his knee, his eyes held hers and both

of his hands held hers.  “Eliza, will you do me the honor

of becoming my wife?”

 

Eliza nodded, the tears falling.  “Yes,” she sobbed.

“Oh, Franklin.”

 

He smiled and stood up.  He pulled her to her feet.

“Now, I will go and ask your father for his permission.”

 

“I don’t suspect that you will meet with any resistance,”

Eliza told him.  “My father is rather fond of you.”

 

They walked back to Eliza’s house where Franklin was

warmly received.  Her aunt followed them, dabbing

at her eyes and smiling broadly.

 

the-lovers-by-william-powell-frith-18551

Sources:  Angelpig.net; Victorian Era