A recipe of love

Letter

Eliza burst into the room with a bright smile, clutching the letter tightly in her hand. "Madam, a letter for you!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in the lightness of her voice.

Margaret, who had been sitting at her writing desk in quiet contemplation, felt her heart leap at the sight of it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took the envelope from Eliza, her breath catching in her throat. It was from Nathaniel. *He is safe*, she thought with a rush of relief, *thank God he is safe*. She carefully broke the seal, unfolding the paper with tender care, eager to devour every word written in his familiar hand.

The letter read:

*My Dearest Margaret,*

*I have made the journey to France at last. It was not without its trials, but I am here, and I am safe. The boat ride was long, the sea both beautiful and daunting in its vastness. There were moments when the waters were calm, and I would stand at the ship's edge, looking out over the horizon, imagining you beside me, your hand in mine. Other times, the winds were fierce, and the boat swayed in such a way that I feared we might be swept away. Yet through it all, the thought of you kept me steady.*

*The days on the boat seemed to stretch endlessly, but they gave me time to think, to dream of you and of our future. How I longed to return to you, even before I had left. I would watch the stars at night, the same stars I knew you could see from home, and it brought me a strange comfort. In those quiet moments, with only the sound of the waves lapping against the hull, I would close my eyes and imagine I was holding you in my arms, your warmth banishing the cold sea air.*

*When we finally reached France, it was as if I had stepped into another world. Paris is unlike anything I have ever seen. The streets are full of life—people laughing, children playing, and vendors selling all manner of goods. The buildings are grand, tall, and ancient, with their stone walls etched by time. The air smells of bread and wine, not so different from home in some ways, yet entirely foreign in others.*

*The people here are kind, though their manner is brisk, and their language is a dance I have yet to learn. I have already begun to make arrangements for my studies. It will be hard work, but I am eager to begin. I must admit, however, that no matter how beautiful the city, no matter how much there is to learn here, it all feels hollow without you by my side. I miss you, Margaret, more than words can say. Every night, as I lie down to sleep, I think of you—your smile, your voice, your touch. If I could hold you now, I would never let you go.*

*Please send my warmest greetings to everyone at the estate—Mr. John, Eliza, Mrs. Calloway, and all the others. I hope they are well and that the household is running smoothly in my absence. I miss their company, too, though none so much as I miss you.*

*I will write you again soon, my love. Until then, know that you are in my heart, always.*

*Yours, forever and always, Nathaniel*

Margaret read and reread the letter, her heart swelling with both joy and longing. Nathaniel was safe, and he had arrived in France as planned. But the ache of missing him only grew stronger as she imagined him in that foreign land, far from her reach.

Eliza, who had been standing nearby, watching Margaret's face as she read, couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer. "What does he say, madam? Is he well?"

Margaret smiled, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "He says France is beautiful, and he misses us all very much. He sends his greetings to everyone."

Eliza beamed. "I'm glad to hear he is well, and safe. We were all wondering how his journey had been." She paused, her voice softening. "And... how are *you*, madam? You've missed him terribly, haven't you?"