There was no word of when the gala would be, but it was taking the town by storm. The Waltzes couldn’t escape it. In every shop and street corner they would find themselves in, they were bombarded with questions from the townsfolk. Not only that, but Christine would regularly overhear people criticizing her and James for keeping their lives private. She was confused beyond exasperation. When they were too public, it was scrutinized. The inverse was true as well?
Hearing about Thomas was certainly not helping Christine’s mood. She was trying not to let her sudden lack of new letters bother her too much, but that was difficult when their writer was brought up at every turn. The old woman who had talked to Christine about James noticed their unwillingness to answer the town’s questions. She told them she would love to bring them groceries and other things from the shops. James told her that wouldn’t be necessary but Christine encouraged it, saying it would keep the old woman busy. She needed something to keep her life interesting, as she’d told Christine herself.
“Please call me Louise,” the woman told Christine when she delivered their groceries.
“Thank you so much Louise,” Christine smiled warmly, “you really are too kind”
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James poked his head over Christine’s shoulder in the doorway and offered Louise 50 pounds.
“Oh Mr. Waltz you really don’t have-“
“Please,” he interrupted, “I insist”
Louise sighed but received the payment with a smile, “thank you sir”
“Please….call me James”
********************************************************************************
The following week went by quietly. It started with Christine going to town to buy some flower seeds. James asked if she wanted him to come but she quickly declined. James didn’t usually bother Christine’s things, and he never bothered Christine’s journal….but her sudden change in mood made him curious. And even a little concerned. The reason was obvious; but what did she feel other than sadness and heartbreak? Those are only the shallow emotions of a sudden life change. He backed it up with it helping him understand her better, at least that’s what he told himself. Whatever the true reason, he looked in Christine’s journal. Only the last few entries….he wouldn’t stoop any lower. What he read made him wish he told her the truth about the letters.
Thirteenth of June, 1774
My world, my Thomas, has not sent any letters to me in almost twenty days. I used to receive them daily. I get hopeful every time a piece of mail comes but my depression only worsens when I see nothing from him. Only the endless apology letters from my mother than I no longer open. I’m not sure what has happened but I am sure of this….I must not be good enough for anyone anymore.