❝𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦𝐬❞

A Letter from a Young Bride

My Dearest Friend,

I write to you with the sweetest of news and a heart full of unexpected joy. Life, with all its twists and turns, has brought me to a place I never imagined—a place of contentment and hope.

Yesterday, under the golden light of a fading afternoon, I met the man to whom I shall soon be wed. He is not the strapping young knight of storybooks, nor the lively youth of a village fête. No, he is a man of years, his hair kissed by silver and his face lined with the stories of a life well-lived. But do not mistake me, for in his every word and gesture, I have found a treasure far greater than fleeting youth.

He is an Earl, no less, from the green fields of Essex. The grandeur of his title might awe some, but it is not what has won my heart. He is cautious, as one might expect of a man who has seen both the brightness and shadows of life. Yet, in that caution lies a gentleness that wraps around me like the softest wool.

Oh, how kind he is! When he speaks, his voice is a melody of calm, his words carefully chosen, his manners as polished as the finest glass. He loves books and music, and he speaks of the world beyond our little village with such wonder and wisdom that I could listen to him for hours. In him, I see a depth of understanding, a steadiness that soothes the fluttering anxieties of my heart.

I confess, I feared the prospect of this engagement at first. What young girl does not dream of passion and whirlwind romance? Yet, now that I have met him, I feel no sadness. On the contrary, I feel as though fortune herself has smiled upon me. For in this man, I see the qualities that will make a marriage not only bearable but a joy—a partnership founded on respect, affection, and care.

He looks at me not as a possession, but as a companion, and that is worth more to me than all the wealth of England. The idea of walking beside him, learning from him, growing under his patient gaze, fills me with quiet happiness.

So, my dear friend, do not pity me. Instead, wish me luck as I prepare for this new chapter. I shall soon leave the rolling fields of France for the green hills of Essex, and though my feet may tread foreign soil, my heart feels at home already.

Yours in happiness,
Cécile