Alas, It’s Not To Be

Margaret, My Dearest friend,

I write to you, my long, never forgotten friend Margaret, because I have been told by Mother of your good news. I must congratulate you and wish all the happiness to you and your future.

It has been a full season since we have met in the flesh, how I miss you so.

William sounds as charming as my Mother describes, but you must write and tell me your thoughts. From the two of us fair maidens I would have assumed I would be the first to be wed, oh how wrong I was.

Please write to me to tell me how you have been over the past few months. During this time, we have entered a new year. 1644, how magnificent it sounds.

I will be waiting patiently for your letter to arrive.

Your affectionate friend, Eleanor.

My wonderful friend, Eleanor, what a surprise it is to see your beautiful handwriting after so long. I too, miss you terribly.

News travels fast around here, it feels only a few weeks since William and I started courting and now I am happily settling into married life. I cannot truly believe it has happened to me, as you say, I too would have assumed you would be the first to wed a handsome fellow, although it seems it is me instead.

How handsome William is cannot be expressed in a letter, or I fear I would be whipped for coarse language, seeing as I am a lady of the manor now. William is gentle, softly spoken, and everything I had dreamt for in a gentleman. I will not bore you to death, as I write about married life in detail, however, know that I am happy and in love.

Dear Margaret,

Receiving your letter, reading your words, reminded me how I enjoyed our conversations in the gardens, when we were but ten and two years. How young and naive we both were, how unaware of the world. I wish to revisit those memories in my mind.

It is pleasurable to read about your life now, as a married woman. William truly sounds like a delight, I am glad that Mother did not exaggerate his better qualities, he truly sounds like quite the gentleman. I unfortunately am stuck in the family home with Mother and Father, now that Robert has flown the nest with his beautiful wife Elizabeth. I have only myself to occupy my days, this is why your letter gave me so much comfort to read, it is like meeting a friend once again. I do hope we can see each other soon.

Your Affectionate friend, Eleanor.

Dear Eleanor,

I had forgotten our walks around the gardens when we were only small, what fun we had together, lazily wondering. Alas, my life has caught up to me now, and I am a child no more. Thank you, however for reminding me of those days in the sun.

When you next speak to your mother, tell her I am well and happy with my new husband. It seems my mother and your own have been corresponding through letters, as we have been doing. I agree, I must make time to see you in person, however now that I am a wife there is many daily duties I am to complete.

Your respectable friend, Margaret.

My dearest and oldest friend Margaret,

I hear of troubling times ahead, down in the town near where you reside. I do not wish to speak of this out loud, but in the strictest of confidences, I am concerned for your safety.

I do not like to listen to rumours in the streets, but as I hear it, the servants have been talking. They have spoken to their families in the nearby villages, and there is tell of witches that roam. I am surprised that witches have been sighted here, and around the nearby villages, the one you live near to name just one. From my experience, witches live in damp, disgusting areas not in places such as here.

Please, my dearest friend, stay vigilant, stay wary. These witches can hypnosis you to do their bidding.

Your concerned friend, Eleanor.

My sweet, innocent friend,

Eleanor, I respect you and I will cherish you until my dying days, however what you write about is false. There are no such things as witches that roam these streets. The women they accuse, are women who are yet to be married, they are women who speak their mind, some of them are friends of mine, who have been wrongfully accused of poisoning men.

These women are not enchanted, they are just girls, like the girls we were before our responsibilities. I would not write this if I did not believe it to be so, but can you not remember our feelings on those sunny days when we were but ten and two? You promised to love and cherish me forever. Your skin was as soft as silk, your eyes a gleaming blue. I had not forgotten our walks, how could I? I’m afraid, dear friend you may have.

You’re friend always, Margaret.

Dear Margaret,

You can understand why I haven’t written back to you in such a while. Your letter shocked me, I could barely breathe. Do you lie in your letters? Are you truly in love with your husband William, or are these feelings not true?

There are rumours circling around. The servants speak of a group of women that do not obey the rules of society, and I am hearing the name Margaret in conversation.

It would break my heart if I have been enchanted by a wicked witch. Please tell me you are not the one to conspire with these crones, that you would belittle yourself for them. I know this is not you and you are not of sound mind. Have they hypnotised your mind?

I truly respect you as any oldest and dearest friend, yes, but on those summer days when we were just small, we were but friends, nothing more and nothing less. To even suggest and write is to go against God’s wishes, and in doing so, you are by default praying to Satan.

Oh Margaret, come back to us, come back to your husband and the family who love you so. You are not a child of the devil, it cannot be so,

Yours Respectfully, Eleanor.

Eleanor,

I am terrified. I am certain that you will not open this letter, however in the unlikely event it falls into your hands, I say this. My life is a lie. As I write, locked away in this damp cellar awaiting my trail. I feel I need to clarify my involvement in this incident.

I did not murder my husband intentionally. The letters we have been exchanging were found by William. I have sinned, I told the greatest of lies. I did not love my husband and I never have. He was arranged for me but one year prior, although I had no interest in the male physique, I was pressured to marry, as my urges were frowned upon.

William, the man I described, was but a false interpretation. His softly spoken demure and smiling nature, was but a fantasy I told myself. William could be controlling, a man unable to let a woman think for herself.

I have grown to understand these women you call witches. They are but women in the same situation as I. Men, such as the witch finder general, find evidence that we practice magic together, this is not true. These women brew remedies to ease the pain that villagers suffer.

As a lady in power, I wanted change, I thought wrongly. These men cannot and will not listen to what we say.

I was frustrated with my husband, he found the letters, hidden beneath my writing desk, and forced his hands upon me. He forced me to pray to God. I was struck with his belt. He told me that a woman in my position shouldn’t have such sinful feelings.

Then, I struck him twice, then thrice, until all black and bloody he was. He lay with no breath to give.

The witch finder found my bloody hands wrapped around his clothing. I pray for forgiveness but I will never forget who I am. I am and never have been a witch, however, Eleanor I will truly, deeply cherish you forever. I am swooned by your beauty. You are the only woman who has enchanted me. I love you with so much of my heart.

Margaret.

Dear My one true love, Eleanor,

From the lack of correspondence, I have concluded that you have not read my letter or have been refused to receive it.

Eleanor, I struggle to write as I once did. I am being kept, alone down here with no soul to talk to. Alas, it will soon end. You will never read this final letter, but if you ever do, know that I will cherish you whatever happens.

Tomorrow I soon shall be dead and gone. If you do see these words, it would have been too late. My dunking is at noon precisely and not a moment after.

Please God, do not forsake me in my time of need. I will refuse to be sent to hell on account of my true feelings for you.

If you do find this hidden, please find my bones, please do not bury me in an unmarked grave, surely, I do not deserve that.

Your Sweetheart, Margaret soon to be gone and buried.

October 1645.

Margaret.

One year hence I write to you. I was truly scorned by your actions. Now, as I ponder your room, I find the letters you hid. I must ask one thing, how has this letter come into my possession? It seems I will never know, and now that the witches of the village have all been killed, there is no soul to ask.

I know I write to no one, perhaps it is for my own sanity. The words you write swirl in my mind and I am plagued by it all.

I too am to be wed. I am sure he is of sound mind, with grace and decorum, alas, there is part of me that wishes, that at one time we could have met once more, to wander around the gardens in the midday sun, are lips pressed against each other.

However, it is not to be. I will carry out my wifely duties and serve my soon to be husband as God has intended, so I shall be granted into Heaven. This letter shall not be seen by another pair of eyes, for I shall burn the pages in the fireplace.

My one, real true love, Margaret, forever in love, never to be.