The Troubles from Monsters and Men (The Secret of Moonacre Fanfiction)

Of Letters and Dead Ends

One late May afternoon, Cat and Lizzy were lounging in their dormitory room. Fortunately for the ladies, the rest of April passed along peacefully. Lizzy worked diligently in her studies though there was now one additional material added to her list: magic. Between her letters to her parents and Henry, she also was now writing to Regina and trying to learn all that she could to help Maria. She was strongly considering pursuing a career in archeology with the encouraging support from Henry and her friends. Her parents weren't too fond of it, wishing she would pursue a prosperous marriage instead, though they had an inkling Henry would be involved with that as well.

True to herself, Cat continued to procrastinate on her academics, choosing instead to practice swinging her wooden sword about while using her four-poster bed as a sparring partner. There were a few books she studied diligently. Bast may have taken three very old, and very worn swordsmanship manuals by Sir William Hope from his school's library. He figured no one was reading them anymore and she had expressed frustration at not being able to learn. When she wasn't nicking dents into her bed, she was writing letters to Jane. She was entertained by Jane's courtship. Richard promised Jane he would visit and speak to her parents once he fully recovered. Cat believed he was purposely delaying it.

Maria and Robin had begun to write to one another which resulted in an improved demeanor from her end. There were only two things that could dampen her mood, the reminder that she still had yet to speak to Robin about Mrs. Watson's offer; and the fact that Will was now writing to her as well.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Maria stormed in, immediately heading towards her bed. She fell back on it, letting out a loud groan. The sisters looked at one another, already knowing what was upsetting their friend.

"Another letter?" Lizzy asked.

"Yes," came the muffled response.

"Can't you simply inform him that you don't want his correspondence?" Cat suggested.

"It would be rude without a proper excuse. If Mrs. Watson hadn't told me he wanted to court me, I wouldn't mind. In fact, if it weren't for that, I'd be chatting away as if he were any other friend."

"Then I don't see why you can't do just that. For all you know, he may change his mind and find someone else before he gets the opportunity to even propose a courtship."

"That is a good point," Maria admitted. She sat up on the bed. "I just feel terrible, I hope I'm not leading him on."

"You're not," Lizzy consoled her. "You've never implied anything other than friendship in your letters."

Feeling better Maria shuffled through the rest of her letters. There was one from Mrs. Heliotrope, another from Loveday, and a postcard without a return address or sender's name. All it said was 'I hope this card finds you well' in a messy scrawl. Maria frowned. She turned it over, there was a painting depicting a battle scene. Cannons were blasting and dead soldiers were scattered about. She shivered. Maria scooted to her nightstand and opened the drawer. She took out a stack of letters. Shuffling through them she pulled out another postcard she previously received. It was of a ship stuck in a storm. That one said, 'Good Evening Ms. Maria Merryweather'. Maria bit her lip, could they be from the same person? Why wasn't their name on either card? She set those two postcards aside and moved on to the last of her letters. Her face lit up. It's from Robin. She smiled wistfully and grabbed the red-feather scarf that draped over her headboard. She wrapped it around herself as she began his letter:

Dear Maria,

I went to the May Day festival this weekend. In an uncharacteristic act of charity, my father donated money to the church and sponsored a play. Perhaps this most recent brush with death has brought a new change to the old man. Strange really. He even barged in the last week to let me know I was now a "suitable heir" and asked all sorts of strange questions about my future. Just a fair warning, he knows about La Havre.