December 23, 1921
My darling Luisa,
My love and light. I know that you are confused, perhaps hurt, by my sending you away to your parents’ for the holiday season, but I beg you to read this letter so that I may explain myself further.
I should have thought that the universe, in its infinite wisdom, would have seen fit to place me in a profession suited to my intellect and talents. A doctor, perhaps, or a lawyer. A politician, maybe! Imagine that! Me, your Titus, a politician. The idea is ludicrous, but I digress. However much I would have expected from life, the tragic comedy of existence has reduced me to the position of a mere solicitor. I chafe every day at the unfairness of the life set before me and under the yoke placed upon me by the odious forces that employ me. I do not hate the men specifically. As humans, they are fine enough. We speak and exchange tales of our lives during our luncheons. However, it is the role they play in my life that I cannot abide. They pay me a pittance to debase myself in such a thankless, anonymous role. Is my dignity worth so little? Apparently so, at least according to the penny-pinching misers that own and operate this place of business, though I scarcely may say it warrants such a lofty title. I would rather send the fleas to do my work than continue another day.
My feelings about the life placed in front of me, however, are not unknown to you. Though I have endeavored to mask my hostility from you with as much love and adoration as I am capable of providing, you are too wise to not see the discontent that lurks within my breast. You have spoken to me softly, encouragingly. You have dried my tears and wiped the sweat from my brow as I return home. You keep the hearth of your love warm to melt the ice around my heart. You have saved me from an early grave, dear Luisa, and the extent of my gratitude should not be surpassed were the Lord to bring upon another great Flood to wash away the sins of the world. I am indebted to you with my very soul.
It brings me some joy then, my darling, to inform you of the purpose of sending you to your parents' for Christmas. My reasoning is such: I shall not be present!
Indeed, come Christmas morning, I shall board a train to a small town across the state to set off on a true adventure. One that could assure our future together will be prosperous and as plentiful as you and I deserve.
I can hear your voice now, the dulcet tones soft and gentle, asking me what could have possessed me to leave you behind in such a time as this. My angel, I have been employed in such a capacity as I deserve! Not more than a week prior to this letter, I was approached on my walk home by an elderly couple who asked for a few moments of my time. Though I wished nothing more than to come home to you, I acquiesced. They seemed to be in a state of distress and, though my position as a solicitor may imply otherwise, I am still a gentleman through to my bones. It behooved me to stop and aid them, as you would have insisted I do as well.
They introduced themselves as Mr. Leland and Mrs. Miriam Weatherby and I recognized the names, as I'm sure you do too! The Weatherbys have been one of the city's leading families for decades, though they have been quiet as of late. Indeed, I did not identify them at first, as their clothes were uncharacteristically shabby and they appeared disheveled. Exhausted. Fearful. Haunted, one may say. Upon seeing them in that state, I quickly ushered them to a nearby cafe so we could speak privately and provide them some nourishment. As we ate, they explained the reason behind their distress.
A month ago, they told me, their son Lucien received a message from a Mr. Marsh, inquiring about his availability as a schoolteacher for the upcoming semester. As they said, Lucien was ecstatic, as he had become withdrawn and despondent after being fired from his previous position as a teacher in Boston. They would not go into detail about the circumstances of his removal from such a position, but they assured me that it was for nothing prurient or untoward. In their words, he simply was unable to acclimate to the requirements of living in such a large town. However, this new position would have meant a significant increase in his pay from the previous position and he was told specifically in the letter that he would find a permanent home were he to choose to accept the offer. Sight unseen, he decided to pack up his things and travel to the town to accept the offer in person. Foolish, perhaps, but we were all young and headstrong once, weren't we, my love? You still remain young as I get older and older by the year, a tribute to the beauty that God has bestowed upon you.
As they explained about the position, I could see pride in their eyes at the success of their progeny. However, when they turned to the subject of the conversation at large, the glitter in their eyes disappeared, replaced by a weariness that startled me. They told me that Lucien had made a phone call home every night for the first week of his tenure, speaking excitedly about the town and his home and the school. He waxed poetic about how quaint the location was and how the locals, though initially skeptical of him, soon warmed to him and included them among their events and poker nights. He promised that he would not fall prey to gambling and loose women and that he would be home as soon as he could manage.
After that final conversation, though, they had not heard from him since. They had telephoned and asked for him, but received angry responses in return, excoriating them for interfering with the town’s business and their son's life. They were called all sorts of names of various vulgarities and were hung up on. Naturally, they were furious and sent the police to investigate. However, only a day or two later, the police returned and informed them that there was no sign that Lucien had ever arrived in the town and that the police were unwilling to invest more time in such a wild goose chase while actual crimes were being committed. The police left and desperation sank in for the Weatherbys. They tried to enlist the services of others, but were rebuffed at every turn. Mr. Weatherby himself tried to charter a boat to take him to the town, but found none willing to take him.
It was at this point that I began to worry about what they were to ask. If the police were unwilling to aid them, what could a simple solicitor do for them? I asked them and they assured me that they needed my help and experience. Before I could further enquire as to what experience they referred to, Mr. Weatherby retrieved a chunk of gold the size of a woman's fist from the pocket of his overcoat and set it on the table. He told me that, before Lucien disappeared, he had told them that he was being paid with gold rather than paper money and wanted to verify that it was, in fact, pure. They had received a few samples and taken them in to be appraised. They had been informed that the gold was indeed pure and of finer quality than the jeweler had ever seen. The value, Mrs. Weatherby told me, was estimated at around twenty-thousand dollars and that every single ounce they had received from Lucien was mine if I accepted the task of traveling to the town and retrieving their son from whatever nasty business he had clearly become enmeshed in.
Though further questions would have been prudent, the glint of the gold so blinded me that I agreed wholeheartedly and told them that I would be off as soon as I could possibly manage. The relief on their faces was palpable and, for a moment, I felt guilty at taking their money. However, my love, I see this as a boon! This windfall will provide me the ability to find another job more suited to my abilities and temperament. I shall be happier and more fulfilled and, in turn, should likely be able to provide you the children you have asked of me for years now. My darling, we shall both benefit from a simple excursion. I promised nothing to them so, should I not find their son, I would hardly be culpable of malfeasance.
All of this is to say, darling Luisa, that I am aggrieved to not be with you during the holidays, but the long-term future of our family depends on such a minor inconvenience. Please, enjoy your time with your parents. Eat well and celebrate the birth of our Lord! I shall be traveling on Christmas morning to Innsmouth, Massachusetts, though I hope to return to you and our home no later than the New Year.
I miss you already and it feels as if my heart is gone.
I love you beyond words.
You are my light and my wind.
Take care, my dove.
Your beloved Titus
---
If you want to be a beta reader for the rest, sign up with a DM to @daneatscatfood on Twitter, email me at [email protected], or find me all over on Discord!
My darling Luisa,
My love and light. I know that you are confused, perhaps hurt, by my sending you away to your parents’ for the holiday season, but I beg you to read this letter so that I may explain myself further.
I should have thought that the universe, in its infinite wisdom, would have seen fit to place me in a profession suited to my intellect and talents. A doctor, perhaps, or a lawyer. A politician, maybe! Imagine that! Me, your Titus, a politician. The idea is ludicrous, but I digress. However much I would have expected from life, the tragic comedy of existence has reduced me to the position of a mere solicitor. I chafe every day at the unfairness of the life set before me and under the yoke placed upon me by the odious forces that employ me. I do not hate the men specifically. As humans, they are fine enough. We speak and exchange tales of our lives during our luncheons. However, it is the role they play in my life that I cannot abide. They pay me a pittance to debase myself in such a thankless, anonymous role. Is my dignity worth so little? Apparently so, at least according to the penny-pinching misers that own and operate this place of business, though I scarcely may say it warrants such a lofty title. I would rather send the fleas to do my work than continue another day.
My feelings about the life placed in front of me, however, are not unknown to you. Though I have endeavored to mask my hostility from you with as much love and adoration as I am capable of providing, you are too wise to not see the discontent that lurks within my breast. You have spoken to me softly, encouragingly. You have dried my tears and wiped the sweat from my brow as I return home. You keep the hearth of your love warm to melt the ice around my heart. You have saved me from an early grave, dear Luisa, and the extent of my gratitude should not be surpassed were the Lord to bring upon another great Flood to wash away the sins of the world. I am indebted to you with my very soul.
It brings me some joy then, my darling, to inform you of the purpose of sending you to your parents' for Christmas. My reasoning is such: I shall not be present!
Indeed, come Christmas morning, I shall board a train to a small town across the state to set off on a true adventure. One that could assure our future together will be prosperous and as plentiful as you and I deserve.
I can hear your voice now, the dulcet tones soft and gentle, asking me what could have possessed me to leave you behind in such a time as this. My angel, I have been employed in such a capacity as I deserve! Not more than a week prior to this letter, I was approached on my walk home by an elderly couple who asked for a few moments of my time. Though I wished nothing more than to come home to you, I acquiesced. They seemed to be in a state of distress and, though my position as a solicitor may imply otherwise, I am still a gentleman through to my bones. It behooved me to stop and aid them, as you would have insisted I do as well.
They introduced themselves as Mr. Leland and Mrs. Miriam Weatherby and I recognized the names, as I'm sure you do too! The Weatherbys have been one of the city's leading families for decades, though they have been quiet as of late. Indeed, I did not identify them at first, as their clothes were uncharacteristically shabby and they appeared disheveled. Exhausted. Fearful. Haunted, one may say. Upon seeing them in that state, I quickly ushered them to a nearby cafe so we could speak privately and provide them some nourishment. As we ate, they explained the reason behind their distress.
A month ago, they told me, their son Lucien received a message from a Mr. Marsh, inquiring about his availability as a schoolteacher for the upcoming semester. As they said, Lucien was ecstatic, as he had become withdrawn and despondent after being fired from his previous position as a teacher in Boston. They would not go into detail about the circumstances of his removal from such a position, but they assured me that it was for nothing prurient or untoward. In their words, he simply was unable to acclimate to the requirements of living in such a large town. However, this new position would have meant a significant increase in his pay from the previous position and he was told specifically in the letter that he would find a permanent home were he to choose to accept the offer. Sight unseen, he decided to pack up his things and travel to the town to accept the offer in person. Foolish, perhaps, but we were all young and headstrong once, weren't we, my love? You still remain young as I get older and older by the year, a tribute to the beauty that God has bestowed upon you.
As they explained about the position, I could see pride in their eyes at the success of their progeny. However, when they turned to the subject of the conversation at large, the glitter in their eyes disappeared, replaced by a weariness that startled me. They told me that Lucien had made a phone call home every night for the first week of his tenure, speaking excitedly about the town and his home and the school. He waxed poetic about how quaint the location was and how the locals, though initially skeptical of him, soon warmed to him and included them among their events and poker nights. He promised that he would not fall prey to gambling and loose women and that he would be home as soon as he could manage.
After that final conversation, though, they had not heard from him since. They had telephoned and asked for him, but received angry responses in return, excoriating them for interfering with the town’s business and their son's life. They were called all sorts of names of various vulgarities and were hung up on. Naturally, they were furious and sent the police to investigate. However, only a day or two later, the police returned and informed them that there was no sign that Lucien had ever arrived in the town and that the police were unwilling to invest more time in such a wild goose chase while actual crimes were being committed. The police left and desperation sank in for the Weatherbys. They tried to enlist the services of others, but were rebuffed at every turn. Mr. Weatherby himself tried to charter a boat to take him to the town, but found none willing to take him.
It was at this point that I began to worry about what they were to ask. If the police were unwilling to aid them, what could a simple solicitor do for them? I asked them and they assured me that they needed my help and experience. Before I could further enquire as to what experience they referred to, Mr. Weatherby retrieved a chunk of gold the size of a woman's fist from the pocket of his overcoat and set it on the table. He told me that, before Lucien disappeared, he had told them that he was being paid with gold rather than paper money and wanted to verify that it was, in fact, pure. They had received a few samples and taken them in to be appraised. They had been informed that the gold was indeed pure and of finer quality than the jeweler had ever seen. The value, Mrs. Weatherby told me, was estimated at around twenty-thousand dollars and that every single ounce they had received from Lucien was mine if I accepted the task of traveling to the town and retrieving their son from whatever nasty business he had clearly become enmeshed in.
Though further questions would have been prudent, the glint of the gold so blinded me that I agreed wholeheartedly and told them that I would be off as soon as I could possibly manage. The relief on their faces was palpable and, for a moment, I felt guilty at taking their money. However, my love, I see this as a boon! This windfall will provide me the ability to find another job more suited to my abilities and temperament. I shall be happier and more fulfilled and, in turn, should likely be able to provide you the children you have asked of me for years now. My darling, we shall both benefit from a simple excursion. I promised nothing to them so, should I not find their son, I would hardly be culpable of malfeasance.
All of this is to say, darling Luisa, that I am aggrieved to not be with you during the holidays, but the long-term future of our family depends on such a minor inconvenience. Please, enjoy your time with your parents. Eat well and celebrate the birth of our Lord! I shall be traveling on Christmas morning to Innsmouth, Massachusetts, though I hope to return to you and our home no later than the New Year.
I miss you already and it feels as if my heart is gone.
I love you beyond words.
You are my light and my wind.
Take care, my dove.
Your beloved Titus
---
If you want to be a beta reader for the rest, sign up with a DM to @daneatscatfood on Twitter, email me at [email protected], or find me all over on Discord!