Here's a new story I've been meaning to write for ages now but didn't have time or enough trust in myself. I hope you will all like it.
English is not my birth language so, sorry if there're mistakes. Can't wait to read your reviews !
Letter I:
Alice de la Tour to Baroness Rosalie de la Vicordière
My dearest Rosalie,
I cannot express how much your last letter warmed my heart. The anecdotes from the Court entertain me greatly, and I eagerly await more of the fabulous stories you've shared. Your writing almost lets me feel the excitement of Versailles.
Our dear Queen is currently at the center of numerous rumors, though opinions vary. The tensions with the King continue to fuel conversations in the salons. Thankfully, you had warned me about their latest quarrel. Their names are on everyone's lips. I've heard that despite appearances of reconciliation, friction still exists between them.
As for Monsieur Necker, he remains the source of all curiosities. His financial management and reforms continue to spark lively debates. The salons buzz with talk of his attempts to clean up the kingdom's finances, though he faces fierce criticism. Father cannot hold a conversation without mentioning him. Could you tell me more about him in your next letter? You know the Countess has it out for our family, and if I can appear more knowledgeable than she is, perhaps she'll leave us alone.
We also recently learned that France is actively preparing to send new reinforcements to America to support the colonies in their struggle for independence. The ships will be ready soon, and preparations are in full swing. I pray daily that Father, in his capacity as Viscount, will not be called to go there. His illness still hasn't left him. If he were to sail, I fear he might leave us in the first few weeks after his departure.
But enough about Court gossip and the impending war. The reason I'm writing today is because, you see, I've had the most wonderful encounter.
You know well that Father dislikes me going to the village at the foot of the hill behind our château. He constantly tells me that a young lady of my rank shouldn't mingle with common folk. But a severe coughing fit confined him to his quarters and forced him to ask me to fetch his parcels. He still doesn't trust Jean-Baptiste, and the other servants all declined the task, claiming to have important things to do at the château. The last time a servant went to fetch his precious packages, the poor girl dropped one. Father's rage distorted his features so much that he was unrecognizable.
But I digress. Let's return to where I left off. I went to the village, accompanied only by old Anne, whom Father designated as my chaperone. However, the parcels were so cumbersome that I didn't notice the turquoise brooch Mother gave me for Christmas had fallen. Old Anne hadn't noticed either, her eyesight not being what it used to be. I can't describe the fear I felt when a peasant ran up to stand in front of me. My heart raced even more when I met his gaze.
Oh, Rosalie, if only you could have seen his eyes, as blue as the sky. I felt as if the world had stopped turning, as if we were alone in the world. He handed me my brooch without a word but with such a smile that it took my breath away. I don't know how long we stood there, looking at each other, he with my brooch and I with Father's parcels, neither moving nor speaking. It was as if we weren't even breathing. But old Anne spoiled everything by almost snatching the brooch from his hand. The world began to turn again, and the spell was broken.
She barely thanked him before urging me to follow her back to the château, tugging at my sleeve. But I didn't move. Instead, I gathered my courage and asked him his name so I could reward him. If he had kept the brooch, he could have fed his family for at least a year, but he had the kindness and courtesy to return it to me.
My hand trembles as I write his name: Jasper Whitlock.
His face won't leave my thoughts, and I find myself thinking of him more often than I should. I don't know why, but there was a light in his eyes and my heart that words cannot express. For now, I content myself with this troubling memory, wondering what Father would say if he knew.
I managed to persuade old Anne not to tell him about our encounter, and I convinced Father's personal servant to go to Mr. Whitlock's home to give him some gold coins as a token of my gratitude. He left just before I wrote to you, my dear Rosalie, and you can't imagine how eagerly I await news of him.
Awaiting your response, my dearest friend, I send you my most affectionate thoughts.
Your friend,
Alice de la Tour