The Wonderful Bouquet

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The theatre

A letter had arrived for Elizabeth, and she had no doubt who it was from. Every week – sometimes even twice a week – William sent her a letter. They did not say much, just what he had been doing that week and what plays he had seen.

Her favourite part was the end of the letter, where he told her how much he loved her, and how he could not wait to hear her voice again, see her face again and touch her skin again. He said he missed her, and asked her to kiss the children for him.

William had been gone for five months. Twas almost half of the promised time he would take, and already it felt like so long. She wanted him here. She wanted him to kiss the children, and to be able to hear her voice, see her face and touch her skin. She wanted to sleep in a bed where he was sleeping and eat at a table where he said at the head.

She responded to every of his letters. When he told her he loved her, she told him she loved him too. And when he wrote he wanted to be with her, she told him she wanted the same. But those words never felt like enough. Writing "I love you" was not the same as saying it. She meant it with all her heart, yet it did not feel like he would believe it. Written words could only do so much.

But when she wrote to him, she was honest – just like when she spoke to him. She had made the mistake of lying to him in the past, and she had learned her lesson. In fact, some times he told her she was too honest, and it felt quite rude.

But now, in her letters, she assumed he liked her honestly. She told him how she was sad and alone. Though she had the children and servants around them, and she visited her family often, she still had days in which she did not speak to anyone. She would just stay in William's study, sit behind his desk and read a book.

The children already knew they could find her there. Sometimes, Francis would take a book, or a pen and paper, and join her. They would silently sit around the desk that belonged to William alone and enjoy each other company.

It felt like support to know that Francis felt the same she did – or at least that he understood. The other children also felt something was different. They were not their usual too loud selves. They were more timid and did not fight as much as before.

Everything in the house felt different, but twas a different Elizabeth did not like. She wanted her husband back, and she wrote that to him. But she also reminded him that he ought to fulfil his dream, for he was to return in half a year. And mayhap – hopefully – he could come sooner.

Today's letter to William was longer than usually. Yesterday had been Francis' twelfth birthday party. Elizabeth did not host a ball in his name, or anything else grand like that. Francis did not want that, he had said. She had invited her and William's family to celebrate the day with her oldest son.

It had been a great day. Everyone was there, except for Eli – and William. Thomas and Madilyn had come with the two other Hayes ladies and all their children. Mary had come with Phoebe, Nora and Eddie, and Andrew had allowed Victoria to join him and the children as well.

The day had gone perfectly. The adults were sitting outside, enjoying some tea and cake while watching over the children who were playing in the garden. Only the younger ones – Lewis, Florence, Theodore, Lennard, Phoebe, Nora and Eddie – were closely watched by a few nannies. The others were freely – and wildly – running through the garden and falling on the ground.

Twas nice to see, and for a while – a short while – Elizabeth forgot about missing William. She was caught up in talking to the people she held so dear, while watching her children, nephews and nieces play around and have fun. Francis finally had his gorgeous huge smile on his face again, and Elizabeth could not hide hers at the sight of it.