Page 2 of Letters for Phoebe

Phoebe sent her a mock glare as the girls laughed again, and Daphne returned it with a sly grin. Teasing each other came naturally with these dear friends. Sometimes, Phoebe pretended they really were sisters. Their bond had to be nearly as strong as one of blood, given how much they had been through together since meeting.

Isabel held up a brown leather book. “Or, better than Chelsea buns, we could discover what happens at the end of The Love of Count Rudolph by Eugenia Rutherfield.”

Before Phoebe could petition to begin with their treat again, Marah let out an audible groan.

Isabel pointed the corner of the book at her. “But we only have one night left together! Come, Marah, you must be the slightest bit curious to know if the Count will save Lady Esmerelda.”

“That isn’t how life goes, you know.” Marah spoke with an ever-so-practical tilt of her head. “The handsome gentleman doesn’t parade in on his white horse to save the lady from all her troubles.”

“Isn’t it nice to imagine, though?” Daphne said, leaning toward Marah with a suggestive raise to her eyebrow. “When the count saved Lady Esmerelda from the evil baron, I practically swooned.”

Marah lips twitched, but then Isabel spoke. “I think she will save herself in the end. We don’t need men to save us from everything, you know.” Isabel’s voice always grew a bit louder when she spoke of things she was passionate about, and now was no exception. Though Phoebe often agreed with her friend’s rather progressive views for the fair sex, she stayed out of the argument.

Lavinia made a sound of exasperation. “You girls have the attention span of a…a…” she threw up her hands. “A senile goose. I brought a surprise, remember?”

Phoebe bit her lip, darting a glance around quickly enough to know how they must respond. “Yes, Mrs. Vernal,” she said with her friends, then they all burst out laughing.

“Oh, hush.” But even Lavinia grinned at them. She was something of a mother-hen, forever bringing them to attention even if amused by their inability to sit still. “I’ve been sad about Marah leaving. And Isabel and I only have a few more weeks before we’re done with school. Soon we’ll be separated.”

That sobered all of them, and Phoebe felt her smile fade away as her eyes went first to Marah and then her other friends. She and Daphne would be the last two to leave the school. It was the end of an era, the end of childhood. She hated to let them go with a fierceness that made her chest tighten and her eyes burn.

Life would never be the same again.

“I was in Marlow’s shop today,” Lavinia went on, her voice softer, “and I saw the absolute most perfect thing that made me think of all of you.” She took out a beaded bracelet. “It reminds me of all our good times. I thought we could send it with Marah, so she’ll take a part of us with her.”

A truly marvelous thought, but before Phoebe could say so, Marah was already shaking her head. “No, I couldn’t. It’s far too expensive.”

Phoebe leaned forward, trying to convey what she felt in her eyes and voice. “But you are facing hardship at this moment. Why not keep it for now, and perhaps later you might send it to one of us? Should we need comforting. It could bring you luck.” Not that Phoebe particularly believed in luck. But she did believe in her friends.

“Yes, I love it.” Lavinia smiled. “We can send it on to one another. It will keep us connected.”

Daphne’s soft voice was the next to offer reassurance. “Like the locket Count Rudolph gave to Esmerelda, when he promised to always love her.”

Phoebe darted a surprised glance at her friend. She hadn’t thought Daphne was as enamored by the romance as Phoebe was. True, the gothic novel had more than one silly passage that made them giggle, but at the heart of the story was the love between the count and his Esmerelda. A love story that defied the odds, leaping over every obstacle in its path. The reality of English romance and marriage was far removed from the story they had read aloud to each other for weeks. The reality was likely that Phoebe would be introduced to some stuffy gentleman at a ball who might take enough of a liking to her to send her flowers the next day.

How dull.

Marah snorted at Daphne’s words, but Isabel only squeezed an arm around her shoulder. “I will always love you, Marah. And you, Mrs. Vernal.”

Lavinia laughed, but Phoebe’s mind grew serious as she turned about her thoughts of the future. What if their future could have romance in it? Something more than the cold formality of a Society courtship?

“As foolish as we are behaving now,” she said, “it would mean a great deal to me to know each of you finds a love like that. I cannot like the idea of any of you marrying someone who does not treasure you.” Someone who would only see their dowries, or their pretty faces. Each of her friends deserved a husband who would see their goodness and their hearts.

Lavinia took up the idea with an eager nod. “We should make a pact. A promise. To marry for love.” Phoebe held her breath, looking to the others. She hadn’t expected Lavinia to take up the idea so quickly.

“To marry only for the truest love,” Daphne said into the quiet that had settled upon their gazebo. “A love that withstands every challenge and trial.”

Isabel’s eyes grew serious. “To men who treat us as equals.”

“Who can make us laugh even on the worst of days,” Phoebe added, some of the heaviness lifting from her heart.

“Who would stop at nothing to win our hearts,” came Lavinia’s soft voice.

Phoebe turned her gaze to Marah, as they all did. Marah only stared at her feet. “Love is a luxury some cannot afford.”

Lavinia, ever kind and nurturing, took Marah’s hand. “Come, Marah, we are dreaming right now. Tell us what you want in a man.”

Marah hesitated a moment longer then let out a long breath. “If I could have a man who sees me not for my economic value, but simply for me, I think I should be happy.”