Disclaimer: Well... I'm not entirely sure if I need to include a disclaimer, considering the copyright of this story ran out a very long time ago.
Edinburgh, May 15th, 17—.
My Dear Elizabeth,
With every passing day spent here, I find myself falling more in love with this strange, unfamiliar yet delightful country. Scotland has easily lived up to, and indeed well surpassed my high expectations. Truly I have never found myself in a happier, more enthusiastic state of mind. The only damper to my spirits seems to be Victor, who remains as gloomy and sorrowful as he was when we left. But I shall write more on him later.
Your continued correspondence is a joy, and your kind, sweet words are never wasted, indeed Victor seems to thrive off them. It seems, particularly of late, that you are truly one of the few beings that can bring a light to his darkness. The deaths of our dear William, and that poor girl, Justine, have taken such a continued impact on him, and I know he worries so much about you all. Tell me, how are you faring? Have you recovering from this tumultuous, tragic year behind us? It saddens me to think of you in a state of unhappiness. I do hope everyone is doing well, particularly Alphonse, this upheaval has been so hard on him, and now, with Earnest in the foreign service, and Victor away in England, you truly are all he has left.
We arrived safely in Edinburgh three days ago, and it truly is lovely here, I find the beauty, and scenery to be rather quaint and charming. As I write, I sit looking out the open window, peering across the city, the moon is up high behind the hills, silhouetting the city in a truly magical way. Although, I do admit to being a little disappointed, by lack the antiquity and ambience I admired, and to a measure preferred in Oxford. This morning, I set off early to explore and walked for near two hours before I happened to stumble across the most scenic of castles. I lingered there for over an hour, the masonry had such an elegant, romantic feel to it that I could hardly bring myself to leave. I intend to take Victor back to see it, though we barely had a chance to visit the lakes in Westmorland and Cumberland, so I best not get my hopes up.
This trip has been such an eye opening voyage for me, every day I am thankful for the chance to travel these foreign lands with Victor. In fact, I have not yet felt the urge to return home to Geneva, if anything the more I see and learn of this kingdom, the more I feel myself content to stay here. No doubt we will be on the move again soon, we intend to head up to Perth, where a friend awaits us, and I am hopeful that I will be able to convince Victor to let us travel there via Cupar and St Andrews.
Victor seems impatient, as if he is in a great hurry for something to happen, and for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is. I urged him to disclose to me if anything was bothering him, but he gave no intelligible response and I have not questioned him since. I fear he may be lapsing into a depression, for the further north we travel, the more restless and miserable he becomes. He languishes in this state, and I cannot comprehend what he must be going through. Oh, what can we do to help him? It seems all our efforts have been to no avail thus far. For a man so dear to both of our hearts, it is a wonder how he can slip away from us as easily as he does.
Yet even as his agitation grows, he remains the faithful, dear friend he has always been. He still indulges me in thoughtful, intellectual conversations of science and philosophy, even when he tires of my company. Often he accompanies me on my ventures to understand of the culture and history of this country, and so far I have heard little, if no, complaint. But his lack of interest disheartens me. How ardently did he once pursue such fields of knowledge, and now he seems little more than a shadow, following me like a mislead, dispassionate ghost.
I should finish this letter soon, the candle burns lower by the minute, and I fear it shall soon be gone. Tomorrow I shall see if I can convince Victor to accompany me back to that magnificent, ancient castle, and if I do manage to achieve that already impressive feat, I need my rest to navigate my way back. Truthfully you would think that large stone castles would be easier to find, but I can assure you it is more difficult than it would seem. Perhaps the ability to disappear serves as a defence plan.
I apologise not being able to write back sooner, every day is so full of wonder, and experiences, that I hardly have time to break. But I shall endeavour to write more frequently as we journey further north. Though I may once again find myself caught up in the beauty of this country, so please do not worry about the frequency of my letters, I promise to bring back the most beautiful souvenirs I can find. As always, I look forward to hearing more of your amusing witticisms, and sweet, kind words.
HENRY CLERVAL
Edinburgh, May 15th, 17—.
Thanks for reading :)
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~Dyenya