My Fairy Queen Anne

you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

Dear Miss Josie Pye,

When I received your response to my humble question that night at the ruins, I was beyond thrilled. Thrilled would be downplaying it by a million times because truthfully, you are the most extraordinary person I've ever met. Something about you had me utterly besotted since the first glance. 

The moment I saw you at breakfast in Charlottetown, I was intrigued. To me, you were simply and plainly the most stunning woman in the room already. Don't mistake me for a cad, I hold a general reverence for all women, but something about you particularly, whether it was the stories Gilbert has regaled me with from Anne's letters or your countenance or the way you comport yourself, had me hooked. When I heard your laugh, like the most luxurious Italian silk velvet personified, you had my heartstrings in your hands. When I heard you speak, animated and intelligent and sarcastic, I was all yours. And then finally, when I saw you in the firelight, your hair shining like spun gold and blue eyes light like the ocean on a summers day, free and dancing and laughing, I knew that I had to have you in whatever capacity possible, friend or more than that, if you'll permit me. 

It is now that I formally beseech you to answer a simple question. Please, do not be offended at my forwardness. It is my understanding that regularly, people do not jump into courtships after a weekend of festivities, but you must understand that I simply do not care and I hope you don't either. So, I guess I am asking you, begging you for permission to wear the title 'Josie Pye's beau' proudly. 

I wish I was there with you. I could've been a conventional partner. I should've come calling at your doorstep with a bouquet of gold and indigo hydrangeas to compliment your stunning eyes and lovely locks of hair. The only thing I want in this moment is to be a normal beau, do all the little normal things like go on strolls and eat sweets at the fair and sip lemonade in the parlor. But unfortunately, I find myself 16 hours away from the desirable situation, so this is the next best alternative.

If you refuse my advances, you need only say so, sweet Josie. I won't be offended. I will not deny that I would be crestfallen, but I would not spite you the slightest. I am not the kind of man that shows respect to women only when trying for their hand. I would be happy still if friendship was the only thing you desired, though I hope you reciprocate.

Awaiting your response eagerly,

Alexander Whitmore

PS: If you agree, I am calling you 'Jo'. We courting types have to have exclusive names. I don't make the rules.

Dear Alexander Whitmore,

I thought I had made my intentions perfectly clear, but I suppose not. You boys are rather oblivious sometimes. 

Darling Alex, I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be mine someday, all notions of propriety be damned. So of course, a million times, my answer is yes, if you will have me, until I am 120 years old and don't possess enough teeth to say yes to you. 

My mother and father were over the moon when I announced your taking notice of me, though they were baffled about how someone in such high esteem and financial security such as yourself would want to marry 'a low-born Pye'. Their words, not mine. I could sense the implied 'especially you' tacked on at the end because of my history.

There is one thing you should know about me, Alex. The town is mum about it to outsiders for fear of sullying their own reputations (as if debauchery is contagious!), but I am used -- and in some former suitors' opinions, damaged -- goods, I'm afraid. Although my former beau, William Andrews, and I did not take all the steps as I'm sure I wouldn't need to explain to a medical major as yourself, he tried to use my body without my consent. He didn't get much beyond a grab over several layers of clothes before I pushed him away, but he forced himself on me, and now the town thinks I am a woman of loose morals and Billy some kind of esteemed victim of my ill-fated 'seduction'. We had a town protest over their attempts at censorship of Anne's thoughts about fairness -- which you can imagine, were quite inflammatory-- last May, but some are still stuck in their ways. Many a prospective suitor are repelled from me as soon as I mention this (they disapprove of my very recent penchant for tenacious feminism, I suppose) so I'm telling you this before my heart may be broken by any imminent rejection.