A Love Unyielding Interdicted Letters of 1812

Introduction
In a time when war divided nations and duty overshadowed desire, two suckers defied the constraints of society. These letters, changed between Lady Eleanor Harrington and Captain James Ashford in the spring of 1812, reveal a passion as fierce as the battles waged across Europe. Torn between love and duty, honor and defiance, they risked everything for a future that was promised.
Would love triumph, or would the world crush their dreams beneath its merciless heel?

Letter I: Lady Eleanor to Captain James Ashford

March 14, 1812
Ashford Estate, Wiltshire
My Dearest James,

I dare not write, yet my hand betrays me. The essay upon this runner is a rebellion against my father’s wishes, against the veritably laws of society that mandate my fate. And yet, what's proprietary when my heart beats for no man but you?

It has been five months since you rode from Ashford, your livery still crisp, your voice still warm in my observance as you rumored pledges beneath the old yew tree. But time is a cruel pincher, James. The downtime came and went, and with it, my father’s tolerance. He speaks of duty, of honor — words that should bring comfort, yet they burn like ice upon my skin.

I'm going to be wed.
Lord Halewick is a man of means, a man of rank. My father sees in him a future of stability, of security. But when he spoke the words, when he told me that my place is beside a man who can offer me the world, I wanted to scream — the world means nothing without you!

I contended, James. I wept. My father, ever bent , simply turned his reverse.

Tell me, my love, is there hope? Can I endure this trial knowing that nearly, beneath foreign stars, you suppose of me as I suppose of you?

Write soon, I will reply to you. Let me have but a tale of your voice upon the runner.

Yours, eternally,
Eleanor.

Letter II: Captain James Ashford to Lady Eleanor

March 29, 1812
La Rochelle, France
My Eleanor,
How cruel fate must be, to strike me with a crack deeper than any blade could offer. You, promised to another? I read your letter beneath the dim lantern’s gleam, my fritters pulsing as they traced the essay you set upon the runner. Were I a lower man, I would curse the welkin for this injustice.

War is a brutal thing, Eleanor. We march through slush- soaked fields, our thrills heavy with blood and earth. The cries of the wounded rest me in my sleep, and yet, the topmost agony I've known is this the study of you in another man’s arms.

Still, if only I could challenge Halewick to a dogfight and claim you as my own, If only I could storm Wiltshire as I do the adversary’s lines. But what honor is there in egoism? You earn further than a man whose love comes with the reek of gunpowder and death.

Yet, my darling, do n't despondent. I shall return to you.However, defy every law that binds us, also so be it, If I must ride through the night. Love is no lower cause than honor, and for both, I shall fight.

Hold presto, my Eleanor. Do n't yield to your father’s will, nor to fear.However, there's nothing we can not overcome, If you love me as I love you.

ever yours,
James.

Letter III: Lady Eleanor to Captain James Ashford

April 10, 1812
Ashford Estate, Wiltshire
James,
This may be the last letter I ever write to you. My father has set the ban, and the marriage is but weeks down. My fate is sealed.

I scarcely breathe as I write this, my hands pulsing. It's as if I'm an internee in my own home, the walls of Ashford ending in around me. The maids bruit when they suppose I can not hear, aching ganders thrown my way like moths to a starving beggar. They know. They see the anguish in my eyes, the way my voice falters when my father speaks of Halewick’s wealth and lands.

But what's wealth without love? What's comfort if my heart withers inside me?

still, I would take my steed and flee this very night, If I were stalwart. I would ride through the moors, through the winding roads that lead to Portsmouth, where I might supplicate passage on a boat to find you. But I'm no heroine of novels, James. I'm a woman bound by the cruel chains of duty.

Yet there's one thing left within my power.
Come for me. If you mean what you wrote if love and honor are one and the same — also let me see you before it's too late. Let me believe that love is stronger than fate.

Eternally,
Eleanor.

Letter IV: Captain James Ashford to Lady Eleanor

April 20, 1812
Portsmouth, England
Eleanor,
Hold presto. I'm coming.
James.

Final Letter: An Unsent Note

April 30, 1812
Ashford Estate, Wiltshire
My Dearest James,
I do n't know if you'll ever read this.However, if war has taken you from me, also let these words be my final prayer, If you have fallen.

I stood at the balcony moment, my gown heavy with lace, my robe as suffocating as the life laid out before me. The clerk spoke of duty, of the sacred bonds of marriage, but I heard nothing. My heart pounded in my casket like a war barrel, my knees quivered beneath me. I searched the church doors, soliciting — soliciting that you would come, that I would hear the thunder of hooves upon the ground, that you would break through the crowd and pull me into your arms.

But you did n't come.
I'm Lady Eleanor Halewick now, bound by name, but my heart remains untouched. It's still yours. It'll always be yours.

still, I would have run, If I had been stronger.However, I would have defied them all, If I had been stalwart. But I'm neither strong nor stalwart, and now, it's too late.

Do n't come for me now, James. Do n't let my weakness be your ruin. Live. Fight. Love again, if you must. But know this I shall love you until my dying breath.

Yours, indeed in anguish,
Eleanor.

Epilogue
Lady Eleanor Norway saw James Ashford again.

Some say he was killed in battle, others that he sailed for America, agonized and lost. The variety remains a mystery. What's known is that Eleanor lived the rest of her days in Halewick Manor, her eyes always turned toward the horizon, staying for a man who noway came.

And yet, in the fine corner of her jotting office, hidden beneath forgotten papers, one letter remained — norway transferred, norway read, but filled with a love that time could Norway abolish.