Dear Future Husband

27. The Wedding

2 February 1891

Dear future husband,

You will not believe the absolute absurdity of what I am about to pen to you! Or perhaps you shall and this matter is only shocking to myself. Anyway, Sterling Bennett will wed. Not to Anna Carver–my old friend, whom you may remember, though our friendship sadly ended on a note that was less than peaceful–but to a high ranking noblewoman! I can only pray that theirs is a match of love and not one of convenience. For I fear that he may have forced the lady in question into marriage by threatening her with her own ruin, much as he almost did to me.

As it is, Sterling and his new bride, Emilia Livingston, have invited Papa and me to their wedding. I am quite apprehensive about attending. I do hope Anna does not get wind of this–last I heard of her, a wealthy great aunt of hers had invited her to accompany her on a tour of the Continent, which shall hopefully last long enough that she is not present for the wedding. However, what if upon return or even through a missive, one of her relatives alerts her to this most ill-fated betrothal and set of nuptials? And even tells her about my presence?

Well, future husband, it may seem to you that I had forgotten all about Anna. And to be fair, my new friends at Sherborne are lovely, but I shall always think fondly of Anna. She was, after all, my first friend and they say that one never loses the memory of their first love, although in this case ours was a merely platonic relationship. No, I shall always have a special place in my heart for Anna even after she thought so poorly of me. I had believed myself capable of forgiving her completely and putting the matter entirely out of my head, but such is not the case, alas.

Indeed, sometimes it seems that no matter how much time and space may pass between us, I cannot rid myself of the past. Take the case of Maximilian Walker, for example. The boy treated me in a most unforgivable fashion, by refusing to tell me about where he had been and why he had left me and Papa alone in Hong Kong when he had promised to come with us. And now that Father has dropped the slightest crumb of information about him before leaving me with absolutely nothing more than a morsel of knowledge to tempt me as Tantalus was tempted by the Greek gods... Well, I usually consider myself to be a very resourceful girl, but I am afraid that I have been wasting my greatest resource: time.

Rather than focusing solely on my studies at Sherborne or my family affairs at home, I have been most preoccupied with the attempt and pursuit of finding where in the world Maximilian Walker has landed himself. So far, it has been a dull and fruitless search driven only by... what? Certainly not romantic love, I will assure you of that much. So what drives my desire to know his whereabouts? Could it be curiosity? A need for distraction?

Or is simply that unfinished business bothers me? Just as the question of my mother remains unsolved, so does Maximilian. So does my unresolved friendship, my estranged relationship, with Anna. I resolve now to make amends with her immediately! You have heard it here, future husband, and will keep me accountable, I hope?

Oh, how silly I am. Speaking to a piece of parchment as though it were a living, breathing human being who could hear me. Nevertheless, I pray that you do not suffer as I do. Or if you do, that your trials are strengthening you. Please know that I remain,

Sincerely Yours,

Rosalie Winthrop

Rosalie dropped the quill, nearly splattering ink everywhere. She quickly capped her inkpot and returned her writing utensils to their proper places. Just then, a trio of girls ran into the room, breathless and giggling. Standing from the desk, she quickly sealed the letter and tucked it back into the secret compartment of her trunk.