This one's incredibly different from the others I've written so far, and you'll see how.
Story Seventeen
Title: The Postscript
Rating: K+
Summary: Felicity writes a letter to Simon with very mixed feelings.
Dear Simon,
I suppose that I should start this letter with all the normal pleasantries, but, believe it or not, Pippa has a word or two she'd like to say to you. She's asking me to write it for her, though. She's being rather silly, lounging on her bed and telling me to write for her as if I'm her slave. I hope you know that I'm going through this all only for her, not because I want you to have the pleasure of hearing from her.
I turn around to face Pippa. "What is it that you want to say then, Pip?"
Pippa smiles, curling a lock of curly hair around her finger. "The usual, first."
I let out a soft groan. "Why don't you write it, Pip?"
"I'm sure he'll prefer it if you do the writing," she says, waggling her eyebrows at me mischievously. "It's much more…enticing that way." She lets out a soft giggle, and at the roll of my own eyes I continue.
She would like to say hello and wants to know how you and your family are fairing, but I suppose that you already know that. It always is the same with her. She's never any fun, even if I do love her to death. I look back on our adventures together and doubt that she'd ever partake in such a thing. She's a romantic at heart, but not adventurous…not spirited. But enough about her. I'd inquire after you and your family, but I think I know just how you're doing…the same as always, surely…
"You've certainly been writing a long time just for the usual," Pippa says with a snort, snapping my attention back to her request. "Write him a few lines about the last time we saw one another."
Pippa now wants me to talk about the last time you two saw one another. I was there, too, of course. Remember that stolen kiss underneath the staircase? Don't be ridiculous—that was a completely different night. But it was very similar. Pippa was there that night, too. I wonder if she knows about the kiss. I never did tell her. Even if she's my best friend, I'm able to keep some secrets from her.
"Oh! And tell him about that dratted man who we will not speak of!"
As you know, Pippa's betrothed to Mr. Bumble. (She wanted me to remind you of this.) She's not pleased one bit. That's why I'm writing some of this for her. If she got caught writing a letter to another young man with anything about stolen kisses underneath staircases, she'd be the gossip of the entire school and its relations. But why would she write of that to you? You've never kissed her, have you? I don't even know what this sudden interest in her is about, Mr. Middleton. Not that I care.
Pippa lets out a giggle that startles me. "Tell him about the other night, too! He'd love to hear about the gypsy camp!" For a second, I think that perhaps she's been reading over my shoulder, but when I look to check where she is, she's still lounging on her bed. "What?" she asks.
"Nothing." And I write on.
Perhaps I lied about Pippa's lack of adventurousness. I'll have you know that we frequent a nearby gypsy camp. Pippa simply goes to have her fortune read. She's a silly romantic at heart. There, that will help you win her over, being as you're such a ladies' man. Anyway, the following anecdote will prove to you how much I don't care about what you do: I've taken on a gypsy as a lover. Don't you dare gossip about that, or I'll tell everyone about the real reason Clara isn't your maid anymore. And about that time I caught you gambling with our stable boy, of all people.
"Anything else?" I spit to Pippa.
She doesn't respond for a while, and finally says, "Yes, that'll do." I intend to finish the letter with a final threatening note, and perhaps a slightly seductive one as well, when Pippa says in a much sweeter tone, "I'm so sorry about all of this, Fee. I feel terrible about making you write these letters. But if anyone found out that I was writing to Simon, and the contents of the letters…well, I'd get in a good deal of trouble."
"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, while thinking at the same time that I'd be the one getting into trouble. The contents of Pippa's letters to Simon are never quite what she wants them to be, and I always lie upon reading them back to her.
Pippa shrugs. "As much as I don't want to marry…him…it has to be done." She sighs lightly, shaking her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. Sitting up, she continues. "I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind me marrying Simon rather than...Bumble…but, well…he doesn't know."
I can't help but feel that the epilepsy wouldn't really be a factor if Simon found out. I've never seen him this infatuated with anyone, not even with me. "It's fine, Pip," I murmur, suddenly feeling bad about lying to her. Still, when she asks me to read back the letter, I leave out all of my biting remarks, my own twisted yet amorous comments.
When Pippa's fallen asleep, I return to the letter and add a quick postscript.
She really does love you.