Correspondence

Kasey

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Letters from Christiana and Jocelyn to each other, and Jocelyn's thoughts on Christiana's letter.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer:  Not mine and I do not own them at all.

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Dear Jocelyn,

The days pass and I miss all of you so much.  Please forgive me for not writing sooner, but I had to get myself settled and my thoughts organized before putting pen to parchment.  There is so much to tell and I am afraid I cannot wrap my mind around the whole of my circumstances of yet.   I had not meant to worry you unduly.  I should have realized you would fear for my safety.

I long for a friend here in Etienne Adhemar's household.  His mother is pleasant enough, a woman very proud of her only remaining living son.  She dotes upon him and -- you will be surprised at this -- is not the cowed creature I had expected.  Nay, when she disagrees with a decision of his, the stone walls of this keep fairly shake from their heated exchanges.  Patrice is no meek creature to be ruled by a man.

His sister Lydia is much the same and, while I have seen them argue over some matter in low voices, he does not raise a hand to her as I have expected.  Etienne does not beat women.  Strange that out of all of his sins, that issue is not included.  However, I do not think it wise to become very attached to Lydia, as he makes plans for her to marry and leave this house.  She is of age now and a lovely girl to behold when her lips are not set in a sulky frown.  There is a definite family resemblance between them, her hair as black, thick and curled as Etienne's, her figure tall and solid.  I have not had a chance to talk alone with her yet.  She keeps to herself and is hardly clamoring to become friends.  I am getting the feeling she dislikes me intensely for some reason, though I cannot figure out why.

Etienne's twin, Adele, is at a convent.  I met her briefly upon arriving.  The woman is not in her right mind.  Etienne's mother tells me there was an accident when Adele and Etienne were younger and Adele's mind never caught up to her body in maturity.  That is all that has been said on the matter of Adele.  I suppose I shall learn more at a later time.

I have seen his grandfather, Gilles,  a scant few times.  The man closets himself in his chambers and only seems to come out if he can find some way to irritate Etienne or give a counsel that is not needed.  For example, on our arrival, he leaned heavily on a staff, dragging his leg.  I assumed he'd been injured, yet saw him later that day walking without the staff and no hint of a limp.  Patrice mentioned then that the old man was teasing Etienne for his loss at tournament by reproducing the limp Etienne was lucky not to carry for life.  Teasing!  I sigh as I sit here and write.  What a strange family this is. 

The Adhemar from tournament is much on my mind.  I find myself thinking of him and how he attempted to woo you.  Then, I contrast it with his attentions to me.  With you, he was fairly courteous and even playful in your conversations, jealous of a man he knew to be actively seeking your favor.  He truly was pleasant to you. To me, his politeness is strained, as though it pains him considerably to be so, his idea of my character most cruel.  He thinks me wanton, insisting I tell him when my monthly is done so that any child I conceive he will know is his,  yet he bought me to be his wife.  He is jealous of a man miles away that I will likely never see again, asking at odd hours what his name was.  Where is the glib charm I remember hearing?  Where is the gentleman beneath the soldier, for I see little sign of that fellow I know to be present.

I hear no gentle phrases proclaiming me to be the 'most beautiful woman in Christendom.'  Oh no.  What comes to his lips upon seeing me is, 'when your monthly is through, I will have you.'  Do I somehow inspire this coarseness within him?  If not, then what does inspire him to be thus?  What shall I do?

I have begun, dear friend, to long to hear compliments from his lips, the sort of poetry that Sir Will gave to you.  Anything kind and gentle would be most welcome, yet he seems to think his crude conversation -- when he speaks to me at all -- is appropriate.  As I wrote above, he believes me wanton, which I am most certainly not.  Now, I know I must accept the inevitable intimacy we will share.  I must learn to anticipate it, but his manner brings much fear to my mind.  You once spoke of your times with Sir Will as beautiful.  I would have such beauty for myself and am afraid that finding it with Etienne will be an impossible feat while he treats me as a prostitute.  Never the less, I shall try.

Your loving friend,

Christiana

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This first letter I have received from Christiana fills me with a strange mix of anger and sorrow.  I find that while I am not surprised at Adhemar's vile coarseness, I am surprised that he has kept himself from her.  I did not believe he held such restraint anywhere within him.  It was assumed, and not just by myself, that Christiana ceased to be a maiden pure in the night after that conscienceless Count took her from us.  That he did not gives me pause.

It is unfathomable how he could think Christiana a wanton girl.  I have always been more sensational than she, and bolder.  Whatever did he think of my character then, if he can look at her and think such things? Just because she arranged my meetings with Will for me, did not make her free with herself.  Yes, she did go with Roland, but admitted to me that she could not allow those embraces to reach fruition.  I recall her words to me once on that matter.

I had changed for bed, lost in the wonders Will had introduced my willing self to, my mind in the clouds, as it was every time for hours after we were together.  Giving myself to him had been the only true expression of my love for him that I could show.  Considering the status placed in society upon an untouched state for women before marriage, my choice was as drastic as his choice to lose, then win as I had asked.  Proof to him of my love.  I was his prize and though the consequences of my father's wrath should he find out were considerable, I went to Will with all the love I possessed.

Christiana sat on my bedside, giving a sigh that pulled me from my blissful remembrances.  "Jocelyn...."  she began.

I stopped my wanderings about the chamber.  "Hmm?"

"How were you able to go through with it?"  Her eyes were questioning, puzzled, an earnest seeking.

I crossed to her, sitting beside her.  "Why?"  She had left the street with Roland the previous evening I recalled.  The two of them had run away in a flurry of laughter and eager smiles.

"I could not."  She flushed.  "I really did see Roland's embroidery, you know.  It's beautiful work, intricate and colorful.  He has a gift there.  And when we had finished looking at the linens, he kissed me.  I liked it, I truly did.  He was so sweet and gentle, but there was nothing but a fuzzy warm feeling.  There was none of the sweeping, overwhelming passion you have described to me.  I had thought there would be some fire.  I mean, our glances are so...bold.  I had imagined that passion would take a hold of me and...."  She gave another long sigh.  "But there was none.  Only a slight warmth.  It was nice.  That is all.  I told him I was not ready to take such a step and he escorted me back here.  He told me he understood and when I was ready, to not hesitate to crook my finger his direction."

And Adhemar thinks her wanton?  Ohhh!

It is good that Christiana did not tell us early of her father's decision.  I would have urged her to be a disobedient daughter; to run away from here.  I would have done anything to stop Adhemar from taking her away from us.  However, even if she had followed such a suggestion, he would have pursued her.  He would have considered her his possession as soon as that first tentative offer for her was accepted.

I am angry with Adhemar.  He takes her to him out of revenge, I am sure.  How dare he turn his spiteful eye towards my dear friend!

He dares though, and there is nothing I can do.  There was nothing I could do once he was outside my tent that day, demanding that she be brought to him, that arrogant voice ringing out in the clearing.  There is nothing to do but accept that she is Adhemar's now.  My poor, dear friend.  I cannot give her the advice I long to give and it is too late for what I would have said.  Coming between a man and his intended wife is something I will not do, no matter how much I wish to.  I will not meddle.  Therefore, there is only one thing I can tell her to do.

My reply to send is thus:

'Dear Christiana,

What can I write to give you hope?  My experience has colored my view of the man.  I freely admit thus and ask that you take it into account when requesting my counsel.  My counsel on Adhemar on all matters is too have patience.  As you are a woman of great patience, I am certain you will be able to retain your temper with him far longer than I would have were I in your place.

I feel him to be detestable, a conscienceless man only concerned with his own desires.  But I do not know much more of him as a man save that which I learned through Will's experiences and mine with him.  Do not look to me in that regard for insight.  Look to his men and his servants, his family and the peasants that work his lands.  Please do not ask me to counsel when I do not qualify to do so.  You would be better off going to his mother, though you did write that she dotes upon him, so perhaps that is not a good idea.

I do hate to be so useless for you on the matter.  Believe me, you have my express sympathies for having to marry the beast.  Will however, is not so reticent to give advice.  The gist of his words is that you should play no silly games and speak only truth.  Wat agrees and adds that you should make certain to serve Adhemar's favorite foods at all times.  Personally, I do not see Wat's suggestion taming the man in the slightest, but you could try it.  I shall write no more on the matter, no advice, although I will remain a confidant when you wish to unburden yourself.  Please understand that I do not wish to come between you and he and that is what is behind my decision.  I would not have my counsel hurting your marriage before it has even begun.  I wish you to have some chance at happiness.

As for myself and Will, marriage quite agrees with me.  I adore being a wife and hope soon to be a mother also.  We do try often!  My father has been generous with us.  A month from this date will see us in our own home.  You remember that residence intended for my youngest brother?  Well, with him dead from fever and no other sons to inherit, father has given it to Will and made a provision in his will that it remain Will's upon his death.  I think he is being so generous just to impress Prince Edward.  You know how father is in that regard.  As long as Will has Prince Edward's ear on matters, father shall do all he can for us.

The house is a small manor, barely even large enough to be called such, and is in rather poor upkeep.  Roland, Wat and Kate go with us and I am firm in my resolve that we shall all be happy and content there.  Will has told me that father says the soil is decent and the people will be glad for a good man to be over them.  The area has been well protected by my father's soldiers, yet not truly cared for like our active houses.

Will would not depend on my father though.  He says the generosity is all well and good, but he wishes to make our own fortune.  I must tell you that Will plans to enter Tournament when it begins again.  As well as he does, I do not foresee a huge problem with his plan.

We all miss you sorely.

Much love,

Jocelyn and company'