My Dearest Emilia,
It feels like centuries since I last held you in my arms. Everyday, I pass Willoughby’s garden and it brings back fond memories of how we would sneak past the servants to meet there. Not that I need anything to remind me of you… of your lovely face bathed in the moonlight’s incandescent beams… and that kiss that has allowed me to catch a brief glimpse of eternity… However, I’m thankful for the handkerchief you gave me. I swear, Emilia, you were never any good with needlework. How you pass as a lady, I’d never know. But that’s one of the reasons why I love you so. I carry it close to my heart… I need something of yours to keep me warm.
I do believe there is a time and place for us, Emilia. One more understanding… An era more enlightened, free from the shackles of ignorance… A world not governed by the laws that has kept us apart…
A world where we could be.
When that time comes, my soul shall find yours.
My husband still believes that I could be thawed… that perhaps his kisses shall melt my icy exterior. He’s a patient man, but a fool. How is he to have my heart when I have given all to you.
By tongues of oppressive flames
Thawed but never gone.
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A Letter to Emilia – the continuation