III.

Victoria dipped her quill in the bottle of ink, hands shaking with anticipation. She poised the quill over the yellow parchment and began to write.

Day 1

Dear Victor,

It has only been a day (not even) and I already miss you dearly. The events of the past few days, especially last night, continue playing over and over in my head. I keep thinking about the corpse bride…what was her name? I think she was beautiful…inside and out. I wish I could see her once more and thank her. Perhaps we'll meet again someday. I hope so, more than anything.

Victoria's quill hovered. She wanted to keep writing (time flies when you're having fun) but she didn't want to bore Victor, either. What was she going to say? "I stay holed up in my room all day, dress in black, sew, and think unhappy thoughts." So she tried to finish up.

So how has your day gone so far? Just about 364 days to go. Oh, how I wish I had a book with me…mother says books kill the brain. Ha! The only way I can pass the time is staring at the dancing flames in the fireplace, quilt or do my embroidery, and write my letters to you. I cannot sleep. I don't get enough activity in the day to feel tired at all.

She knew it sounded quite lame, so she added,

I miss you. Please write soon.

And now to finish up…

Sincerely,

Victoria Everglot

Now, that wouldn't do. Too formal. "Perhaps if I get rid of my last name…'love' would sound nice…"

Love,

Victoria

It still needed something…Victoria remembered a quote from a play or an opera she once saw…that might work…

All my love,

Victoria

Yes, that would do nicely for now. Victoria sat back in her chair and read her letter from start to finish.

Day 1

Dear Victor,

It has only been a day (not even) and I already miss you dearly. The events of the past few days, especially last night, continue playing over and over in my head. I keep thinking about the corpse bride…what was her name? I think she was beautiful…inside and out. I wish I could see her once more and thank her. Perhaps we'll meet again someday. I hope so, more than anything.

So how has your day gone so far? Just about 364 days to go. Oh, how I wish I had a book with me…mother says books melt the brain. Ha! The only way I can pass the time is staring at the dancing flames in the fireplace, quilt or do my embroidery, and write my letters to you. I cannot sleep. I don't get enough activity in the day to feel tired at all.

I miss you. Please write soon.

All my love,

Victoria

"I guess that's good enough for now," she said as she blew on the wet ink, folded it neatly, and slipped it into the envelope, addressing it to Victor Van Dort. She sat back to admire her finished work and sighed contentedly.

"Perfect," she smiled. "Now all I have to do is…"

Victoria's heart sank into her stomach. She had forgotten one very important detail…

How was she supposed to send it?

Victoria groaned audibly. How could she have missed that? Now what was she supposed to do?

With the old gloom back within her, Victoria shuffled over to her balcony and opened the glass doors, stepping out into the chilly, gray morning. With her letter still clutched in one hand, she leaned over the balcony to look out at the bustling world below. Old men passed in the street. She recognized her elderly neighbor, Gertrude, who was usually very rude and short-tempered. But ever since she had seen her deceased husband of 15 years just last night, well, you can imagine how she changed. She smiled at passerby and even made conversation. Victoria rested her chin in her hand and watched the townspeople with a weary expression.

Suddenly, a very tall, handsome individual caught her eye. She did a double take and there, in the middle of the town square, strolled Victor Van Dort, with a thin book under his arm. Victoria's heart leaped in her chest and she wanted to call out to him, but she knew how improper it was for a lady to yell, let alone talk to anyone while in mourning. If she could somehow grab his attention…

"Victoria! What do you think you are doing?!"

A long, bony hand gripped her left shoulder and yanked her back onto her feet, for she had been leaning so far off the balcony her feet had lifted into the air. Victoria quickly hid her letter in both hands behind her back and hung her head, faking shame.

"Hanging over the balcony like an old rag doll!" Mrs. Everglot shook a scolding finger at her daughter. "You might have fallen and broken your fragile little neck! What might the neighbors think of me then?"

Victoria stole a quick glance back down into the streets for Victor, and was relieved to see he was no longer there. If her mother had seen him…

"Get back into the house, child!"

Victoria quickly scuttled back into her room with her hands still behind her. Mother shut the balcony door and pulled out a gold key. CLICK. Victoria's heart plunged lower. At least she was able to see Victor for a waking moment.

Just as Mrs. Everglot was headed for the door, an idea came to Victoria.

"Um…mother?" she asked tentatively. Mrs. Everglot turned slowly around, annoyed, and placed both hands on her hips.

"Um…I was just wondering if you could send Hildegarde up…I…my corset doesn't feel tight enough," she blurted.

Her mother gave a grim smile. "Of course, Victoria." She turned on her heel and left, returning moments later with the elderly maid. Victoria's mother left and slammed the door.

Hildegarde shuffled up to Victoria. "Need help, Miss?"

Victoria lowered her voice. "Yes, I do." She quickly glanced at the door and pulled the letter from behind her back. "I need you to mail this letter, Hildegarde. And you mustn't let anyone know you're doing it. Please," she begged, holding out the letter even further. "Please do this for me."

The old maid looked torn. She could never disobey her masters' orders. Then again, she very much cared for Victoria, and hated to see her drowned in the misery that so often consumed her.

The old lady sighed and reluctantly held out her hand. "I don't like seeing you so unhappy all the time," she smiled. Victoria rushed over to hug her maid.

"Thank you, Hildegarde!" she could hardly believe it. "And bring me back his reply, won't you?"

Hildegarde nodded, took the letter, and left the room without another word.

Just as the maid softly closed the door behind her, Victoria felt like leaping for joy. But it was highly improper. She covered her mouth with both hands and squealed. So what of the impropriety? No thrill felt better than hiding a secret from her mother and waiting for another love note in reply from someone like Victor…

She sighed like a lovesick little schoolgirl and flopped down on her bed.

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