To my Dearest Friend

The parents

Mathieu montague

If he found my clothing, how much does he know? Did Eloise tell him? I really hope she didn't. I don't know what to do when he knows? how will I explain? why does he make my life so difficult. It's like he does not think about other people's feelings. I sigh, or maybe I am overreacting, maybe I saw that boy and I saw the life I wish I had, the freedom I wish I had, the nerve I wish I had. I look at Yves portrait. I should not have said that, I'll write him a letter, I did not mean it. But how will Yves ever fit into the mould in nobody ever moulds him into it. But every time I see Yves I am reminded that I miss that time in my life, I miss him, I miss us. Michel and I were so free, we didn't even knew cages existed. We knew our my father despised us but we did not care. I smile, I wish to see him. But I know Eloise doesn't want me to.

Eloise enters the room. 'You know you did the wrong thing." she says and I immediately nod. 'I cannot change without making mistakes, my darling.' She scoffs, 'Do not call me that Michel and we both know where your priorities are, not in Yves happiness but in  control.' 'You don't seem to dislike control either my dearest wife. 'her face seems surprised.' I smile, 'You can act high and mighty my love but it is abundantly clear that you wouldn't have loved me when you would have known my full story. You only tell Yves it's alright to be the way he is because he is your son. You know the only thing it'll do is make his life harder, so think about it. If I would've controlled my anger I might even be a better parent than you are Eloise. Because I want the best for my child. Remember when he was young, you were always somewhere else.' I smirk. She is red from anger. She can't believe her ears, How could I have the nerve to tell her that she is a bad mother? I surely must be joking, right? But I am not, I'm just trying to get her angry and I know that's unfair but she does it all the time, so now it's my turn. But instead of arguing she just walks away. I feel the disdain rising. She shortly says. 'I won't fight you to make you feel better.'

I sigh and a staff member brings me a glass if whiskey. I thank the and look out of the window. Frances, my precious daughter is running through the fields with her best friend and the best friend's brother. I like the Blythes, the only thing I don't like is their standing, they lack a title, but now I begin to sound like my father again. I have turned into my father, a thing I have sworn to never do but Alas, life forms us into the things we do not want.

My dearest Michel,

I have good news. I will be travelling to France again in a few days. I cannot wait to see you again. Although I know it has just been three weeks it feels like a millenium when you are not by my side. My father hardly talked to me as always and my mother was critiquing everything I did on his behalf. I cannot wait to be free from this suffocation again. My sister has been getting herself in trouble with the boys again, (I do not know how and what she manages to do) my mother says she is obsessed with how to say this properly finding suitors. So that's the only thing interesting happening here apart from a load of balls which at the moment are getting on my nerve especially since my mother is reluctant to let me wear what I want. It's absolute boredom from the moment I step foot in the hall. oh yes mre thingie got married a to miss yadayada. I can't stand it. Only joy I have is indulging in the literature you send me and finding out new things about this world. My two younger brothers have been trying to convince me to take them with me to France but I won't. I do feel a little guilty for that because I get that their life would be boring, especially with absolutely no desire to go to college. But that's their loss right? They chose this life just like I chose mine. I cannot wait to see your face again.

Yours lovingly,

Mathieu Montague

Meanwhile in france

Michel de Polignac

I put down the letter, I don't know why I miss him so much the last few days. I guess Cyril's ties to his family remind me of him, remind me of the time I could be free. Yes, I love my family, but I also loved freedom and I lost it the moment I said yes I do at the altar. Perhaps I should not have married but what is more scary than being alone, dying alone. Nothing, and he had already given up on us. I remember his marriage vividly, it was beautiful, but still he seemed rather sad under all the happiness. It was like we could speak with only our eyes and at that moment his eyes said absolutely nothing. While my eyes spoke every word I would have liked to say. I smile, I miss him.