Chapter 22 Letters #3
I am delighted you read my gift! However, regrettably, it would seem we have vastly different interpretations of the source.
While Fanny started out wishing to secure her virtue, she soon realized sex can be had for pleasure and not love.
Are you sure you are so similar? As I’m certain you read it through a biblical lens, I, myself, read it through the experiences I have endured.
Love is almost never involved in sex. A man may proclaim it while you squeeze his gingambobs, but there’s little meaning behind the sentiment.
That is why I must reject your affections.
Not because I do not reciprocate them, but because all men are liars.
Three years ago, I fell in love with a sailor.
That alone should’ve been my warning, because a sailor’s mistress will always be the sea.
Alas, love makes us wholly asinine. I did not wish to see the signs.
I didn’t care that he was barely around, because he told me he was in love with me…
that he wished to wed and have a brood of children.
But once he’d made off with my virtue, the scoundrel disappeared into the night, and I received a letter announcing his departure for England.
That was the last I heard from him. I wanted to die.
I nearly took my own life, in fact, and once I got a firm grip on my self-worth, I resolved to never again give away my heart so freely.
Lust and sex are safe, meaningless ways to feel the sweet sting of human contact…
the illusion of being loved, but without the crushing pain that follows attachment.
All my life, I have been made to feel cheap and unworthy, and when I thought my Timothy was different, that I finally was worthy, he proved I was right all along.
Nobody cares, and I am merely a means to an end.
Perhaps for a time, I felt you were unique, but distance has fortunately allowed me the opportunity to reclaim my wits. Even if we had fully succumbed, I never would’ve allowed our relationship to progress beyond the physical.
If you were not, in fact, claiming your affections for me, then please forgive my lapse and accept my apology.
I had been hoping to discuss more books with you, but this opened wounds I never wished to debate…
but since I do care for you, I felt it necessary to explain myself in full.
I’m not some harlot, sir. I am a woman who feels far, far too deeply, and the fact you were able to lie to me about your true identity not once, but twice proves I cannot trust that you have my best interests at heart. I’m sorry it had to come to this.
Farewell,
Clara
[Hidden correspondence]
I am relieved to hear Washington has written Congress.
However, I must argue with one claim you made: I’m not a patriot.
I am choosing to give up my role in this operation, because I know you have many devoted, able-bodied men who’d carry out this mission far better than I.
Please do not contact me about my decision.
If, for whatever reason, I decide I wish to assist your cause again, I will reach out to you.
P.S. Tell Josiah I’m sorry. His hug was beyond sufficient, and far more than I deserve. In many ways, he is more a father to me than my very own, and our separation doesn’t reflect my feelings for him. Take care of yourself, Ben. You know this is for the best.
-CB
20 January 1780
Dearest Clara,
I must admit, words fail me. I’ve so much I wish to tell you, to confess, but all I can focus on is the damage I have caused.
I never meant to hurt you. I’m uncertain if I wrote my last letter with the intent of proclaiming my affections, but I can no longer deny that I do, in fact, have deep, irreversible feelings for you, and all I can do is lay my heart at the altar of your feet.
You say that men are liars. This is factual.
Men do lie, but for every scoundrel, there’s a man who is genuine in his affections.
I couldn’t tell you my true identity, because this cause is so much more than me, more than my feelings for you.
But please: Allow me to welcome you deeper into my heart by admitting one small, festering truth.
Earlier, you asked why I desired vengeance.
My answer is I once had a brother, and I viewed him as the very light unto my feet.
He was so pure and kind and good, unbelievably good, and it’s this goodness that got him killed.
In daily life, he made certain to share his meals and the very clothes off his back; he sang songs and recited prayers to boost morale; but ultimately, nobody saved him.
And I regret not being there. I regret not dying in his place, and every day I ask God why such a pure, devout soul was sent unto Heaven, while I remain here, a mere shadow in comparison.
I am not asking for your pity. I’m not even asking you to reconsider, although I sincerely wish you would.
Rather, I’m seeking to share my soul, just as you have so kindly done.
Although I admired and respected you before, your candid confession endeared you to me unlike any other.
I do not care about your past, because it doesn’t define you.
With that said, your rejection doesn’t surprise me. I am a cripple. I am useless, and therefore, no one you could ever love. Although it aggrieves me, I’m capable of letting you go. I only wish for your happiness.
Forever Yours,
Apollo
[Hidden correspondence]
Although I understand your romantic rejection, I beg you to reconsider giving up the cause. You’re wrong. We do need you. I need you. Your intelligence has been valuable and pleasing to our commander. I know this means little to you, but we are forever in your debt.
P.S. Father would never be upset with you. He knows, just as I do, that you are at the very center of our hearts. We’ll protect you until our dying breath.
-BH
15 February 1780
Apollo,
I needed time to compose myself, for your letter upended me in mind, body, and spirit.
First, I cried. Not just because of what I perceived to be sincerity, but because of your brother.
My heart aches on your behalf, and I thank you for sharing that with me.
However, the more I read on, the angrier I became.
Do you think so little of me that you believe your disability is what inspired my rejection?
How dare you act as though I cannot make up my own mind, and that I’m only choosing this path because of your injury?
It’s an insult to both me and yourself! While you may think you were showering me with compliments, your conjecture was nothing short of degrading.
The true irony here is that as a preacher’s son, you are blind to your own self-worth.
I mean, by God! Do you think yourself beyond mercy?
The Lord forgives all, and thus, you’re absolved for not being there when your brother needed you most. Pull the scales from your eyes!
You are not beyond love, and you are not beyond forgiveness, and you certainly aren’t defined by your injury.
My one true regret is I cannot be the one to prove this to you.
Although I wish you the very best, I’m asking you to never contact me again.
-Clara
[Hidden correspondence]
When Father inquires, I will tell him you were seriously injured, and thus, no longer of any help to the loyalist cause. Please accept this as my official resignation.
-CB
29 March 1780
Dear Miss Boyd,
I know you asked me to never write you again, but I request most humbly to be able to check in on you from time to time.
Despite my prior words, I meant no offense; you are assuredly a permanent fixture of my heart.
It pained me to have to wait so long to send this, but I owed you the time and distance you so sorely deserve.
Please tell me how you are faring. I promise I’m content to remain only your friend.
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
Apollo
[Hidden correspondence]
I’m aware you no longer have any interest in espionage, but I wanted to thank you for your efforts. As of 18 March, the Continental Congress recalled all of the currency in circulation. This means the British scheme has been thwarted, and it’s largely thanks to you.
Your nation is forever in your debt. And so am I.
-BH
27 April 1780
Dear Miss Boyd,
I hope you can forgive the second letter.
I suppose it’s asinine of me to believe—or rather, hope—that the post rider misplaced my correspondence, but I cannot help but be a fool.
Could you please write me? If not to let me know I have your forgiveness, then to tell me how you are?
I would’ve undoubtedly heard word, had you fallen into any harm, but I still wish to see it confirmed by your hand.
I hope you are well. Father sends his love.
Still Devotedly Yours,
Apollo
16 May 1780
Apollo,
I thought long and hard on whether or not to humor you. Clearly, my meddlesome affections won out, though I wouldn’t take it to heart. I don’t intend to write beyond proving my safety.
You are a good man, assuredly too good for me, and I refuse to let you burrow beneath my defenses. You may be excellent at scaling walls and burning down encampments in raids, but the fortress of my heart is one you will never vanquish. Goodbye, Captain. And I mean that sincerely this time.
-Clara
20 July 1780
Apollo,