The best and worst letter. Subject: Christopher's life as he knows it, is brought to a sudden end. Who: Christopher & his father When: Backdated to several months/a little over a year. Warnings: None. Closed, third-person narrative
Christopher was writing a letter, hand scribbling quickly across the parchment as he attempted to document and report his daily life to Helene; she was due a letter from him that week, and despite the fact she was in France on a business trip he thought it would be nice to give her something for when she arrived back. They had been so sporadic with their correspondance that he felt it only right to try and make up for the weeks they had lost. She must have so much news!
A smile was on his face as he wrote; his brothers were fine, his sister was still the light of the world and he himself was in good spirits. On finishing with his fondest wishes, drawing his signature which looked faintly like a heart, he folded the letter and dripped the hot wax of the candle next to him to seal it, stamping the Blake crest into the liquid as a knock came at the study door and his father appeared.
"Christopher," he said, looking at his son with a somber expression. It pained him to see him so happy in that moment and he was hesitant to enter. "I need to talk with you."
Not noticing Lord Blake's sullen face, Christopher beamed at him. "Father! I wonder if I could steal Monty from you to deliver this letter, it is to Helene. She was expecting one for her return and I wouldn't like to disappoint her."
"Christopher..."
"I know I know, Monty is your best servant but that is why I want him to do this - it is an important letter!"
"Christopher, please...." Lord Blake insisted, and Christopher immediately fell silent, concerned by the way his father spoke. Something was not right here. "May I sit?"
Nodding that he could do so Lord Blake took the chair opposite his son's desk, and for the first time Christopher noticed two pieces of parchment, one an open letter, in his hand. His stomach began to tie in knots with worry - what could be so wrong as to make his father be so serious? Or even upset? He could see red circles around his eyes and that unnerved Christopher even more.
"I have received word from Helene's estate in France," he said evenly looking down for a moment as he explained. He immediately held his son's undivided attention "Apparently she told every servant in her household that - if anything untimely should happen to her - they should send a pre-written letter to you...." Lord Blake placed the sealed parchment on the desk. Christopher was white, his eyes wide and unmoving from his father. His whole body trembled in dark anticipation of what he was about to be told. "I received that letter today. Along with a detailed account of something which I prayed would never happen for your sake."
A pause; Christopher blinked.
"Christopher... Helene is dead."
The moment he said it Christopher's body shut down. His mind screamed as his voice left him far behind; as Lord Blake continued Christopher's eyes filled with tears and he felt like he might faint any second save for the sick feeling which wrenched at his guts. This was not right - Helene was not dead it was a misunderstanding! How could she be dead? She was Helene, Helene....
"She was arrested for helping a Revolutionary in Paris, whether she knew of it or not. She was... executed on Sunday.... without a fair trial. Her husband too. I am so very sorry, my boy..."
Christopher stared. That was all he could do. With the blood draining from his body, the life leaving him, his lips parted in a complete state of shock. His father was looking at him, moved and emotional which was a feat in itself. The stamp Christopher had been holding dropped to the desk and he found himself saying, shakily after a few silent moments; "Thank you, father."
Lord Blake could have cried. "Christopher..."
"Please," his son asked, shaking his head. "I would like to be alone for a few moments..."
Instead of protesting like his mind told him to, Lord Blake arose from the seat and turned, not wanting to leave his son alone but granting him his wish despite it. As soon as the door was closed Christopher broke down into tears, hunching over the desk, not wanting to believe it. He grabbed the sealed letter his father had left, hoping to find a hidden message somewhere in the parchment telling him she was secretly alive and well, but the only words written served to make him more devastated.
My dearest Christopher,
It is only in this letter that I may express my true feelings for you, and tell you of my deepest thoughts. Though you may already know of most of them I have never been able to express them fully or so openly, and I must console myself by recording them here. My servants have instructions to send this, which will be hidden away where only a few will know, directly to you if something is to happen to me and not a moment before. If you are reading this my darling then I am afraid the worst has happened.
As I write I must tell you first of the view outside - I requested that my bedroom be overlooking a hilltop, and so it is, and it reminds me of the last day we shared together as two free spirits. I know you remember it. Time and again we longed to relive it but that was never to be. It was a once in a lifetime moment, and one which I will keep safe in my heart forever. I know you will too, not only as you told me so but as every time you look out of your bedroom you see the exact same place. If your memory is anything like mine you will smile every time you see it, but not without a small regret that somehow - any how - we could not make it last longer.
My husband is good to me. That much is true. But he will never look in my eyes the same way you do. I was never one to fall for brown eyes but it seems that you were an exception to the rule. You were an exception on a lot of things, and I am so glad I met you.
My one large regret in life is that I was not born of a higher status. Then your father would have allowed us to marry and we would have been happy together. I could never wish that we never met - that would be too cruel and deprive me of knowing the most wonderful man on the earth. That is what you are. My time with you was short, and though I love you dearly I know that you may hold out on finding someone to give yourself to. You must not do that - though I could not have you I do not want you depriving another woman who may deserve to be loved entirely and completely by such a man as yourself. When - not if - you find another person to love do so with absolute abandon. Make up for the time lost on us. Make it right, and make me proud.
I love you, Christopher. Think of me fondly. Yours always, Helene."
Christopher spent the next four hours in the study, re-reading the letter and feeling like he might fade away in the very spot he was sitting. Hunched over the desk, eyes sore from weeping, for the first time he felt anger begin to rise in his chest. Executed - how could his Helene be killed in such a way? He knew the French preferred the guillotine and the thought made him sick. It was the Aristos, he knew it. High and mighty trying to save their positions by killing innocent people... he would not stand for it.
As he burst out of the room he was met by the worried faces of his family who had been about to check on him. Giving a disgusted glance in their direction he pushed past them and fled to his room. This marked the beginning of a new phase for him.... Helene's was not a life to be wasted and he was going to make damn sure other's lives were not spent in the same way.