To my Dearest Friend

My other family

Yves Montague

I'm sitting in a carriage towards my familiy's estate, I cannot get myself to see it as mine too again. I lean on the wall of the carriage, I have been preparing things for the trip the whole night. I couldn't sleep, I guess you could say I am too nervous to sleep. Or perhaps I just do not want to. Everytime I go to sleep I wish I wouldn't wake up the next morning. But that results in the fact that I am scared to sleep.

I will be picking up the last things for my journey in the manor. The estate is just as green and beautiful as always, it's incredily well maintained, I sigh before stepping out of the carriage, I have planned on minimal contact with my father but you never know what'll happen both of us aren't very predictable.

I walk into my home, or at least the thing that is once felt like home, no it did not feel like home, the thing I once called home. I look into the sitting room. My father is sitting there, reading a book as almost all of the time. 'Hello father.' He loooks at me and only nods and smiles, I smile back just to be polite.

I immediately go to my room, planning on getting the things I need an leaving as soon as I can. I hand the things I need to my the staff tο put inside the carriage when I hear my father's voice: 'Will you stay for dinner?' He asks almost as if he's begging me to do something impossible. I turn around, I hadn't seen him there but I am used to getting startled in this house. I consider it for a moment and decide to nod.

'I don't see why not' I answer with the biggest smile I could produce for my father, which to be honest is still a modest smile. 'Perfect!'ll inform the cooks.' I sigh deep down I do not want to have dinner with them but I still love my family so much. I wish it could be easier. It's like I am navigating a labyrinth with a blindfold while somebody I don't trust is telling me where to go. But my sister, her smile, she makes it all worthwhile, my little Frances.

 I walk outside. My mom is sitting in the tall shadow of the English Oak, I have always loved that tree, it is bigger than most trees I have seen. I look at my mother as I approach her, I see that she's reading, both my parents are big readers, they used to say that's what brought them together. 

'Goodmorning mamma' I say. She looks up and her pensive face changes, she smiles her bright smile. A smile like the slowly blooming roses in her dear rosegarden. 'Hello my dear Yves!' she says visibly happy to see me. I sit down in the grass next to her chair. We look out over the impressive rosegarden she so adores and cares for, just like she did for her children. Or at least that is my opinion. There's a moment of beautiful silence before she starts to speak.

'I heard you are publishing something.' I get ready to defend myself and my book but instead she says before I can say anything else, 'I am proud of you.'I smile to myself, I am surely surprised, but pleasantly of course. 'Thank you, mother, your endorsement means a lot to me.' We sit there in silence that means more than words could ever say for a little.

'Where is Frances?' I ask my mother. 'Eleanor,' Eleanor's head rises out of the sea of roses and I can't help but laugh. 'can you lead Yves to Frances?' My mother asks Eleanor. Eleanor comes up to us and nods.

The sun shines lightly on our faces. We're walking over the soft grass when she says. 'I don't even know where your sister is.' I smile and respond: 'I have a hunch where she might be. I can lead us there.' I offer her my arm but she doesn't take it. I smile to myself.

'You're stubuorn.' I say with a cheeky smile. She smiles, which she does not do as often as I would like. 'You know I am, Marquess.' I chuckle 'Darling, oh wait I am not allowed to call you that am I?  What do you think about miss?' I say. She shakes her head in disbelieve we like to be sarcastic with eachother. I go on. 'Well dear, I was thinking actually,'

We arrive at the little greenhouse and see Frances inside but I turn to Eleanor 'As I was saying I was thinking, what if my book is a succes, I could introduce you to some names in the industry? With a few tips from a mentor and a good pseudonym so you seem like a man and voÍla. Your books are destined to become popular.' Her face changes and not in the way I expected it's as if I said something wrong.'Firstly that is a big if, arrogant marquess, You do not know your book will be succesful and who told I want to write under a pseudonym?' She asks, She is visibly irritated and offended.

I try to find the right words but I stumble over them. 'I just assumed..' I say before she stops me 'That is your problem, firstly you might claim you support me doing things that are not traditionally a women's job but if you'd force me to write under a pseudonym you are undermining my ability to become famous. Maybe posthumously I would be revered but I want to be known in my life.' She says. 'I am terribly sorry.' I say, taken aback by what she said. 'I undestand you are a man, how could you understand it?'

I frown, I never knew how terribly difficult understanding women's rights and societies standards for them, I meant to help her. But before I can think too much about it I put on my smile and enter te greenhouse.

'Sister?' Frances looks up. She smiles, when she smiles she looks like mother the same little wrinkles around her eyes, the same joy in them the same sincerity. I sit down beside her talling her to scoot her dress a bit.

'I'm sorry for not being here for such a long time.' I want to start explaining myself but before I can she shakes her head. 'It's alright, don't stress it, You are here now.' her voice is soft and soothing, she has a certain tenderness I have never found in somebody else. The tenderness you see in birds, they are incredibly strong but so fragile with the wings of glass and feathers of gold.

I look at the sketchbookshe's drawing in. She is drawing me, I almost don't recognise my old self anymore, I look into the glass from the greenhouse. The reflection does not look like me. My cheeks are sunken, as are my eyes who are accompanied by bags of the endless sleepless nights. It's like my soul had seeped out of it, pouring itself out into letters to a certain someone. But still my face is as beautiful as ever. I look at Frances, she didn't change a bit, which I did expect it is more strange to think about how much I have changed in such a short time. But if she would have changed I would never have forgiven myself. I know that, I promise myself that. If I ever forget what she looks like killing me would be the only humane thing to do.

'What a beautiful drawing Frances.' I say in the tone she knows so well, it's a certain tone I only use for her, it's less deep than with other people, more soothing, more sensitive. She smiles. 'Do you really think so?!' I nod, 'It is extremely beautiful, you are so talented my dear sister' I mean it, I wish the whole world could see that.

'So are you near nervous to see Cyril again?' she asks out of the blue. 'Nervous? Why would I be nervous.'I ask trying to come across jaded. I do not want her to know how much I care. she looks judgementally at me. 'You are right, I am indeed nervous I do not know what to expect. I feel as if when I can see him again the illusion I still have of him will fade.' It hurts to say out loud, but it helps that I am with her. I bite on my lip tr trying not to cry. I can't afford to be rejected another time so I need to reprocess my brain in seeing him like he sees me, a former toy, a friend

Frances wraps her arm around me. I feel a tear roll down my cheek.'It's alright, you're allowed to cry here. You've lost too much' She says softly. 'I'm sorry, I should have been here for you, I shouldn't have abandoned you' I say while crying. I feel so guilty for not being here when Frances said she needed me. 'I am old enough to take care of myself, Yves, Right now you are the one who is vulnerable. So do not worry about me. I can find my people, I know you're always here for me. I know where to find you, so do not beat yourself up about it.' She looks at me expecting me to agree with her I smile.

 'It's easier said than done.' she laughs and stands up. 'Come on let's do something fun.' She stands up and looks at me. I smile, 'what do you want to do?' I ask. She smirks and screams: 'Tag you're it.' like a little kid. 'That's foul! I wasn't ready!' I scream.

I love her.