The Courtship: Secret Letters
Exclusive! Love letters between Ms. Rémy and one of her suitors.
Hello, gentle readers!
Here is the bonus I promised you last week. I’ve managed to obtain some secret correspondence between Ms. Rémy and Mr. Cones. I needed an entire case of macarons to bribe Robert, one of the many footmen at Castle Howard, but it was well worth it.
Get ready to swoon!
I am consumed by thoughts of you.
My restless dreams are filled with glorious images of you. I see you rowing across the lake, your bronzed muscles rippling beneath your linen shirt, and I am dizzy with desire.
Please tell me that you return my affections! I shall breathlessly await your reply.
Please don’t hold your breath. I did that once in fourth grade and I passed out, and then Tommy Laherty tied my shoelaces together and I gave myself a black eye trying to stand up. I don’t think you’d look very good with a black eye.
I’m not sure what most of your letter means, but I think it means you like me. I like you, too, and I wrote you a poem.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I’m warm for your form,
so please be my boo.
I cherish your reply.
It was sweet, with a youthful spirit. It also had a delightful orange sparkle, which was quite decorative.
In truth, I was hoping to read something of a bolder nature. I long to hear that you are enamored with me, that you dream of me as well, and that you cannot bear to be without me.
Don’t hold back. Please share your deepest, most intimate thoughts.
Sorry about the orange powder on my letter - that was Cheetos dust. Robert was supposed to feed us a proper English tea with the little sandwiches and everything, but he ate a bunch of macarons and he crashed into a major sugar coma, so we had to make do with snack bags.
I’m not good at sharing my feelings, but I will try. Remember on Friends, when Phoebe said Ross was Rachel’s lobster? Well, you’re my corn dog.
I’ve never said that to a woman before, but I mean it 1,000 percent.
I’m your corn dog?
You are my corn dog, because I love corn dogs.
Corn dogs are delicious, and they’re my absolute favorite thing, even better than a good roast beef sandwich.
Plus they are really hard to find. You usually have to go to a bowling alley or the state fair to get a decent corn dog, because the frozen ones are crap.
So…corn dogs are rare, and I love them best, and that means you are my corn dog.
With love and condiments,
That’s all for now, gentle readers. Robert assures me there are more letters, but he refuses to share them until I get him another case of macarons and an autographed picture of the Queen.
Wish me luck with Buckingham Palace, and come back on Thursday for a recap of episode four.
P.P.S. If you enjoyed these letters, please share them and make my day:
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