Parody's Cousin's Roommate
Jun. 23rd, 2002 12:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mishadayLove and Freindship, Part the Ninth
Lettre from Justin to Jonathan:
Here begins the litany my true woes. I had not been in Town a fortnight before I felt the fell touch of Mr. P-'s influence.
The sun had not yet graced the rooftop of our residence when an express came from our father. I was much astonished to read in the letter that he had learnt of my new friendship with Chris through Lord Richardson, and indeed, forbidden me to have any contact with Sir Kirkpatrick, or any gentleman with the taint of Irish blood. I grew faint at the sight of these words, and only Lance's strong arms prevented me from failing entirely. He had risen also with the knock at the door, and carried me to the divan in the salon, where he held me until I again recovered my wits.
Forbidden to have any intercourse, any contact at all with my sweet Chris! I was distraught! My darling Lance was my only consolation in that dark moment, quieting my hysterics until at last I was calm, though trembling with emotion, and in no danger of harming myself. Eventually I did rest, so worn was I by my grief, and Lance left me to sleep, while he sought my Chris to let him know of the barrier my father had lowered between us.
Yours, Justin
Lettre from Jonathan to Justin:
Oh! I am wounded near to bleeding! That our beloved father could have done such a thing to you! To deny you your friend, your love! Oh, I weep. How can I return to his house from term knowing of this?
Yours, Jonathan
Lettre from Justin to Jonathan:
Oh, brother, do not shed the ties of blood as I have! Our father can have done nothing but disown me, and that leaves you as the sole heir of our house. I pray you, do not tear another son from his bosom!
Yours, Justin
Lettre from Jonathan to Justin:
Oh my brother - how can you have known? Our father has not disowned you. Quite the contrary - he has set a place for you at our table every Christmas, hoping that you might find your way back to our family's bosom after all these years. Who else do you think I first went to when I first found that glimmer of hope in tracking you down? He never mentioned Sir Kirkpatrick to me of old, nor of Lord Richardson, from whom he is supposed to have heard mention of Sir Kirkpatrick. As he told me, the last word he heard from you was after the ball, when you spoke of Mr. Bass, Sir Fatone and Lord Chasez. All these tidings, of Mr. P-, of Lord Richardson, they are all new to us, though to you they be the history of ten years past. Please, tell on.
Yours, Jonathan
Lettre from Justin to Jonathan:
Here begins the litany my true woes. I had not been in Town a fortnight before I felt the fell touch of Mr. P-'s influence.
The sun had not yet graced the rooftop of our residence when an express came from our father. I was much astonished to read in the letter that he had learnt of my new friendship with Chris through Lord Richardson, and indeed, forbidden me to have any contact with Sir Kirkpatrick, or any gentleman with the taint of Irish blood. I grew faint at the sight of these words, and only Lance's strong arms prevented me from failing entirely. He had risen also with the knock at the door, and carried me to the divan in the salon, where he held me until I again recovered my wits.
Forbidden to have any intercourse, any contact at all with my sweet Chris! I was distraught! My darling Lance was my only consolation in that dark moment, quieting my hysterics until at last I was calm, though trembling with emotion, and in no danger of harming myself. Eventually I did rest, so worn was I by my grief, and Lance left me to sleep, while he sought my Chris to let him know of the barrier my father had lowered between us.
Yours, Justin
Lettre from Jonathan to Justin:
Oh! I am wounded near to bleeding! That our beloved father could have done such a thing to you! To deny you your friend, your love! Oh, I weep. How can I return to his house from term knowing of this?
Yours, Jonathan
Lettre from Justin to Jonathan:
Oh, brother, do not shed the ties of blood as I have! Our father can have done nothing but disown me, and that leaves you as the sole heir of our house. I pray you, do not tear another son from his bosom!
Yours, Justin
Lettre from Jonathan to Justin:
Oh my brother - how can you have known? Our father has not disowned you. Quite the contrary - he has set a place for you at our table every Christmas, hoping that you might find your way back to our family's bosom after all these years. Who else do you think I first went to when I first found that glimmer of hope in tracking you down? He never mentioned Sir Kirkpatrick to me of old, nor of Lord Richardson, from whom he is supposed to have heard mention of Sir Kirkpatrick. As he told me, the last word he heard from you was after the ball, when you spoke of Mr. Bass, Sir Fatone and Lord Chasez. All these tidings, of Mr. P-, of Lord Richardson, they are all new to us, though to you they be the history of ten years past. Please, tell on.
Yours, Jonathan
