A Woman Not Of Her Time

15 May 1820

Sarah Hoecroft

12 Candle Crescent

Moreton, Surrogate, 23876

Dear Sarah,

Hello my love, how are you?

It breaks my heart to know that we are not yet joined in holy matrimony, and all because of the circumstances that were never foreseen. It’s 1820, and I fear my love, that if we do not marry soon, you’ll be boxed into the ‘Old Maid’ category by our friends and family.

That would devastate me!

You deserve better.

If only we lived closer, but sweetheart, I’m working hard to fix the distance that lays between us and I promise, soon, my love, soon, I’ll travel the 30 miles to kneel at your feet and ask that question we’ve both been anticipating for so long.

Baby girl, I worship the ground you walk on, you are my moon and stars, and I long to peer into the windows of your soul, and tell you how much I adore you.

I dream of the day I’ll run my fingers through your silken hair, gaze upon said hair spread across the crisp white pillowcase of our marital bed. Gaze into your eyes as I whisper sweet nothings into your delicate ears — words never whispered to another woman, destined only to be heard by you.

I fantasise about the softness of your lily-white skin, the scent of your essence as it wraps my heart giddily.

I only pray you’ll wait, my sweetness.

I’m working two jobs and you’ll be delighted to know, I’ve just put down a down-payment on a second-hand horse and carriage. It won’t be long now my delicate flower, and you’ll hear the trot of my horse’s feet as my carriage rolls up to your front door.

Then, our dreams will finally come true.

I’ll honour you for the rest of my days, as death do us part. Oh, the years we will spend tethered together, my love.

I can literally taste the meals you’ll serve upon me, feel the freshly washed sheets you’ll lay upon our bed, smell the fragrant cleaning you’ll bestow within our house, and touch every dust free surface that you have taken pride in maintaining.

I long for the children you’ll birth, children I’ve already named in my head. Our tiny rug-rats, envisioned you carrying them upon your shoulders as you toil about your day.

I know you’ll be the wife I’ve imagined in my dreams.

Soon, my love, soon.

Forever yours,

John

10 June 1820

John Voikt

1765 St Boulevard

Fantway, Guille, 23439

Dear John,

I received your letter on Monday and I’m astounded that it has taken three weeks to arrive. Anyone would think we are living in the dark ages; the 1700s.

But I digress. How are you?

I am well, thank you for asking.

Please do not concern yourself about my singleness, or my possible ‘Old Maid’ status. At twenty-six, I feel I’m a long way from being left on the shelf, so to speak.

In fact, I feel I’m a woman not of our times, as I cherish my solitude and my lack of dependency on the male species of our world.

I value my freedom, and do not want you worrying unnecessarily.

To help ease your mind, please know that I’m not your usual timid, shy, desperate female associated with our times.

I’m actually totally self-sufficient and in love with my life.

I almost forgot to tell you, but I secured a working role last week. You are now looking at the first female primary school teacher in our little country town. How times are finally changing.

Isn’t that wonderful?

I know, I know, it’s unheard of, that a woman of my standing would lower herself to paid work, but I’m excited at the role I’ve obtained.

Please don’t feel shocked that I have taken up a paid position, as it’s been my greatest dream since I was just a small child. I have never seen myself as the ‘little’ woman; the stay-at-home mother or the wife bred into slavery in which she is born to kneel before her husband, to do as she’s told and to be silent in the face of disagreement.

I am honoured that you look to me to be part of your future and the rest of your days here on our wonderful earth, but sadly, I must decline your kind offer.

You see, it’s not the dream I hold for myself, but if it was, then you’d be the husband I would so richly seek.

But alas, that is not for my world.

My dear John, I have no use for children, nor do I wish to be called ‘Mother’ at any time in my future.

My heart is full of adoration for you but I cannot dim my light, forego my independence or still my voice; not even for you, my darling, you who makes my heart race.

So, it is here I must respectfully decline your kind offer and wish you a happy life without me as your wife.

Please feel the love I hold deep within my heart for you and know that I wish for you all the joy you are pining for; I’m only sorry that the woman you seek is not me.

Please forgive my silly ideas and wanton dreams.

Forever mine,

Sarah

And with that Sarah lived happily ever after.

She went dancing every night of the week, laughed more often than cried, went shopping, drinking and seldom dated the same man twice.

Furthermore, she always had a clean house, never cooked a meal, and looked glorious at all times.

She lived the life most married women in 1820 could only dream of having the courage to live.

She certainly was not a woman of the times and gloried in the title ‘Old Maid’.

She was the happiest woman in her era and one secretly admired by all; men and women alike.

The very epitome of the future of a modern young lady — not of her time.

The End.