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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

My darlings,

We are officially less than a week away and I’m absolutely wretched because I am (as I am sure you all know) a horrid control freak…and now absolutely everything beyond this point is outside of my control!  If my relations choose to make an appearance and toss soup in the Prince of Wales’ face, I can do nothing.  If my hair dresser tumbles into the Thames, I can do nothing.  If the flowers fail to arrive, my gown gets stained/ripped/shrunk, or the entire party gets lost on the way to the nuptials, I can do nothing.

You may imagine how much this state of affairs pleases me.

In other unwelcome news, I’m off to my physician today for the Dreaded Exam singular to our gender as well as confirming all manner of arrangements for the wedding breakfast and ball.  A pair of events that, I think, do not at all go together in good taste!

Yours hurriedly,
Miss Kirk

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My darling,

To quote our friend Miss Woodhouse, it is a good letter, much better than I would have expected.  The manner is gentlemanly and confident but not arrogant, indeed I think I may call it sweet.  But, my dear, you’ve left out some rather crucial details!  To whom was it written, and who wrote it to begin with?  Or is it a mystery that you have just stumbled upon?  Of course I hope to hear it from an admirer of yours, therefore write again and more explicitly as to the particulars behind it. 

Also, I still have your birthday gift sitting on my desk as we speak, can I at all prevail upon you to call on me today (my business will not let me leave my writing table I’m afraid)?  If not, I will wait upon you at your convenience tomorrow at any of the cafes or tea shops in town.

Yours conspiratorially,
Miss Kirk

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Dears,

Miss Kirk, I applaud you for having the good sense to select a dress before entering into the state of betrothal. A wise decision, and one likely to reduce the stress in your life. Miss Pevensie, I chose to be married in the dress I tried on first. My excellent friend Miss Wollstonecraft highly recommended it, and I commend her good taste. The only sorrow I felt was that I lacked the enjoyable experience of shopping for them longer; savor the experience. Registering for gifts is indeed an arduous process. Each time we did (as most young couples, we selected the establishments of Target and Bed, Bath, and Beyond) it took a number of hours and was truly exhausting. I applaud you for having made it through. (And the fact that you did them both on the same day is incomprehensible. I marvel at your stamina.)

Just remember, my dears, that there’s very little pressure. It’s only the most important day of your life, every minute detail of which will be captured immortally in millions of photographs. Do inform me of any impending loss of sanity and/or the ability to keep from killing people. I will endeavor to diffuse you immediately.

With all my love, sympathy, and congratulations,
I remain, Yours,
Mrs. Elliot

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My dearest girl,

Serenity?  Anyone?!

Serenity? Anyone?!

Again I’m in awe of your decision to be wed in May and again I offer my services because if you are as stressed as I am (and I imagine you are MUCH more) you deserve accolades to rival His Grace the Duke of Wellington!  I had no idea so much work went in to planning an event such as this and my mother, godmother, future-mother-in-law, and well meaning friends are forever alerting me to things I have absolutely forgotten to think of/never heard of before in my life.  Please write back as soon as you may and get my mind of this awful process by diverting me with stories about yours own, write explicitly as to interfering mothers for amusement and flowers for inspiration.  I meet again with my florist this weekend and am utterly at a loss!

More aggravating are the thoughts of our future maintenance since we will be living off my fortune until he should come into his own.  How provoking to be concerned not only with planning a wedding while one’s family is in Suffolk and one’s future is in doubt.  Mr. Rivenhall and I have found excellent lodging but we must wait to find out whether or not it will be made available to us.

I am the most impatient creature alive, as well you know.  And now I have to sit and wait.  And wait.  It’s the anticipation that annoys me, you understand.

Your Pathetically,
Miss Kirk

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My dearest girl,

No amount of pondering illuminates the answer...

No amount of pondering illuminates the answer...

Your letter was such a flight of conflicting hopes and fears that I don’t know where to begin!  All I can say is that if you prefer this gentleman’s company (and I think I can guess who he is in spite of your maddening failure to provide more information) that it might be indicative of your continuing affections for him, as much as we both know you like to deny you have them.  But a word of caution, my love.  He is a perfectly charming man, in spite of his membership in some of the less than desirable Clubs ones finds about town, and has hundreds of good points (a handsome face, intelligence, wit,  delightful manners and address &c.) but I would encourage you to remember the reasons you named for breaking off the understanding.  They are neither light nor negligible.  I will never offer advice unasked for, so do not think I try to influence you either way, I merely wish you to remember the whole of this history and not just the good or the bad.

As for the philosophy behind your question, no one knows the answer.  How to remain oneself while opening one’s heart and mind to another; the age old dilemma of women.  If I may suggest, however, to think of accepting praise, affection, or even love as being conquered seems backwards (come now, you’ve read all the medieval romances, generally when a man showers attention upon a lady it means she has conquered him).  And thinking of being conquered is indeed out of fashion, whatever handbag you wear that attitude with.  Men dislike being considered castles to be breached just as any woman does.  It simply isn’t in good taste, and frankly it’s insulting to either sex to be assaulted, even metaphorically

Perhaps, my love, you need to actually accept the idea that you deserve gentleness, affection, and adoration.  It goes against the grain, I know, but I assure you Mrs. Elliot and I already think you do.  We often wish you would stop seeing it as an insult, it’s not very generous towards those who wish to show you their affection but are rebuffed at each turn.  Besides, ladies deserve to be adored.  And despite our venomous opinions in some of our angrier moments, so do worthy gentlemen.  Be kind to the men, my darling, but most of all, be kind to yourself! 

Any wiser advice I fear is beyond my scope, but if more visits to our favorite haunts to gossip and dissect this gentleman are necessary I remain, my dear,

Fondly and willingly yours,
Miss Kirk

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getattachmentMiss Kirk,

 I am ashamed to admit my rather uncomely lack of correspondence.  I have no other possible reasons beyond the egregiously heavy load of homework and other rather pressing scholastic engagements.  I choose to use them in my defense and, like all familiar acquaintances, they will consent to the positions of blame I place them in because they have not the confidence to reject my opinions.  Such confidence is a direct outcome of either distance (which they have not) or (familiarity) which, pray my darling, I shall not grant. 

I fear, Miss Kirk, that since our last, rather enlightening, tete-a-tete (which I have not formally thanked you for as of yet.) I have come back into the friendship of a certain young man of previous acquaintance.  I stumbled upon him in a lovely new café, namely The Pennyroyal, when the golden gentleman began to woo me with feeling and eloquence (Oh save me.  I have not the arsenal to defend myself from either). 

We continued our conversation, without pause, through the Museum of Art and into the night.  Oh, dear Miss Kirk, how can a young lady, timid at times, full of fire the next, fight against a young man who is almost a constant flow of soothing word and emotion?  He almost overpowers my frame with kindness and gentleness.  I know not what to do, when fire meets ocean. 

Oh, the trials of courting “nice young men” who genuinely are so.  I have not game plan nor script which lend themselves to play upon this field.  The problem is beginning to manifest itself if a quiet sense of boredom within me which turns me from woman to cat.  I weave in and out, look and dart, speak and fall silent, love and hate like a thing untamed. 

I bewilder and challenge him.  If only I were doing so intentionally!  I reflect that I may be playing with him, cat-like, if only to experiment upon the freedom he promises (and to keep myself entertained).  Miss Kirk, there are certain activities which a young unmarried woman of twenty may not entertain with gentlemen of her acquaintance and so she must think and do elsewhere and otherwise.  Instead I fill my time with play and   empty dwellings on those qualities I dislike in the young man, in whom there is precious little to dislike.  This behavior must END, lest I allow my desire for freedoms overcome my desire for constancy of character.  Why must I push back on young men who only desire to give?  It is this very giving which conquers me most. And I detest being conquered.  It is unbecoming this season and would go dreadfully ill with my new handbag. 

Your frustrated,
Miss Wollstonecraft

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“Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?!”

Sorry, my dear, I could not resist.  When you and I go shopping on the High Street today, we’ll do our best to help you resolve your indecision as to color and cut, among other aesthetic conundrums.  I shall call for you near Victoria’s this evening.  Adieu,

Yours conspiratorially,
Miss Kirk

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