The Missing Letter

"It was just here!" you shout, frantically searching your pockets for the missing thing.

You were a member of the British aristocracy in 1774. Walking the streets alone was dangerous for anyone, let alone a rich young woman who appeared to be unmarried. Little did anyone know, you were married. You were married to a man named Alastair Taavi. His name was misleading. Though he sounded aristocratic, he was not. He was an immigrant from the spice capital of the world, India. He was selling spices to your father, a merchant when you met. It seemed like the stars had aligned when you laid eyes on him the first time. You were married no less than a week later, by a priest at the local monastery. He had gone to the New World, and you were searching for the letter you had written to him. He would soon return, and you wanted to make sure he was okay. You had already lost so much in your young life, you didn't know if you could withstand much more. 

"Have you lost something?" 

You glanced up at the voice. You met eyes with a young man, a few inches taller than yourself, and with a dreadfully perfect voice. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. I am missing a letter I wrote to my hu-friend who is overseas at the moment." You stepped away from the strange man, realizing that being so close would certainly be a gold mine for any newspaper writer.

"Oh, I see. Well, I believe I may have your letter. Let me see who it is addressed to." He looked at the letter, pulling it out of my reach. "Oh, to Mr. Alastair Taavi. Here you go, I hope it finds its mark." He handed you the letter and you grabbed the letter eagerly, holding it to your heart as if it were your love. "You should be more careful miss. Who knows what may have happened to your letter, or to the author?" You looked up, equipped with a witty retort, but it fell silent on your tongue. The dashing stranger was gone almost as soon as he had appeared. 

You continued on your business, running errands as the day permitted. You went to the post office in order to mail your letter. Once in the office, you faltered in your confident walk. There was that man again! The one who had disappeared so suddenly, only to meet you again in the post office. 

“Fancy meeting you here. The disgruntled young woman searching for a letter to be found in the post office. It’s almost as if I knew you were coming here. But, do shut your mouth. It makes you look dreadfully unattractive, and you may find yourself feasting on flies.” 

You abruptly shut your mouth, then chided yourself for listening so unheedingly to a stranger you knew nothing about. “If I want to keep my mouth open so as to appear unattractive, then that is what I shall do, regardless of what anyone advises me to do.” You promptly reopened your mouth, flashing him a defiant look. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I might think that you’re flirting with me, Miss-” He stopped as he realized he didn’t know your name. 

“Ansley. Hope Ansley. And you are…” You trailed off, hoping he finished your thought.

“My name is Benton Valance. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ansley.” He kissed the back of your hand as a show of courtesy, but it felt like it contained more meaning than a show of his station. You wondered what exactly his station was, and why he was waltzing around the middle of town with no obvious purpose and no perceivable motive. Lost in your thoughts, you looked up when you heard a door close. You searched the room for any remainder of the stranger but found none. He had, once again, disappeared into thin air. You wondered if you would ever find him again. Somewhere, deep down in the depths of your heart, you knew you would.