Felicity managed to write a decoy letter... she and Ann discuss it... and she composes a response for Simon... I hope it doesn't suck completely... please tell me if it does! Thanks for reading!
"Will you see Mr. Harris over the holidays, Fee?" Ann asks me from her perch on Pippa's old bed. She's wearing one of my new elbow length gloves and looks almost ludicrously happy.
"I believe he's gone back to America," I say, feigning sadness. I allow my curtain of blond hair to fall in front of my face, but I still see her face fall slightly.
"At least you shall still be able to correspond through letters," she says. She takes a worn, folded piece of paper from my bedside table. It's a fake love letter from a fake man written in the hand of a bribed first former, but Ann looks at it like it's absolute treasure. "It's so terribly romantic!" she gushes as she unfolds it for yet another reading.
I'm glad the curtain of my hair is still covering my face, and Ann doesn't see my lips twitch. I do not trust myself to continue on the subject of Mr. Harris without giving myself away. What started as a simple decoy for Simon's letter has turned into one of Ann's favorite subjects. I thought sending the wonderful Mr. Harris "back to America" would stop Ann's fancies, but so far my plan has been remarkably unsuccessful. The distance has only made our supposed love more like one of her silly novels.
"Oh Fee, do you think he will send for you?" she wonders, clutching the letter to her heart. "I do think he will. He must." I busy myself with removing a spot from my nightgown, and she says in a rather dejected way, "Mustn't he?"
"I do not know, Ann," I answer. I yawn hugely. "I'm rather tired, darling." She remains sitting on Pippa's bed, oblivious as usual to my subtle hint. I give her a pointed look, but she's too engrossed in reading the letter again to notice. Finally, I say, as sweetly as I can manage, "Goodnight, Ann."
"Oh!" She is startled, but she recovers quickly enough. "Goodnight, Felicity." Ann clumsily moves herself from Pippa's bed, dropping the letter back on the table with one last yearning look. "I do wonder why he hasn't yet responded to your response," she murmurs, but she notices my eyes on her this time and makes a quick but not quite graceful exit.
The moment she is gone I take Simon's letter from under my pillow and rush to my dressing table to write the letter I have been composing in my head.
Dear Mr. Middleton, I plan on attending the Hathaway's ball over Christmas. I shall talk with you there, if you still desire it. Sincerely, Felicity Worthington
Frowning, I rewrite the letter, this time without the second sentence. Simon Middleton can take what he will from the first alone. Satisfied, I put his letter and both of mine under my pillow. In two days time, I will travel home to London.
I will finish this story! I will! (especially if you review ;)