The Reinvention of Love

is considerable.
    Albert and I are finding married life very agreeable. I recommend it for you, dear brother, though I understand the impossibility of meeting anyone suitable while you remain in exile with Papa. I wish that you could return to Paris without suffering his wrath. Or better yet, that you could come and make a new life here in Halifax, near to me. You would find winter an adventure, and I have heard that summer offersequal challenges, that there are large blood-sucking insects lighting on one’s flesh from May to August. I am not sure why anyone would choose to live here, but I must admit that some days the fresh air sets my blood racing, and the view from the Citadel Hill at sunset is very pleasing.
    You asked, in your last letter, if I regret what I have done. If I regret leaving Guernsey. I miss you and Maman so much, and Charles, and sometimes even Papa, but I do not miss the island at all. My only regret is that I did not leave it sooner.
    Your loving sister, Adèle
    My darling Albert,
    I can no longer afford to stay in the hotel. I have moved into a boarding house down the street. It is still very close to the garrison, and I still wait for you to come and see me. Every afternoon I will be sitting in the small front parlour near to the coal fire. Even if you knock only once at the front door, I will hear you. The landlady’s name is Mrs Saunders.
    Your beloved Adèle
    My darling Albert,
    It must be very cold out on parade. I have begun to make you a scarf. I am making it in red wool, to match your uniform. It gives me solace to be making something practical for my betrothed.
    Your beloved Adèle
    My darling Albert,
    The scarf is finished and is waiting for you. If you do not come by to try it on, I will simply have it sent to the garrison. I have begun on some gloves to accompany it.
    Your beloved Adèle
    My dear Maman,
    You would be very proud of me, Maman. I have kept up my needlework, and my stitches have much improved. I am working on a pillow slip for my husband, an intricate design of birds in a nest. I work on it most evenings, by the coal fire in the parlour of our house. It is much too cold now to go out at nights. The wind beats against the windows like a living being, and the cold is so cold it is like a kind of heat. When the snow lashes against my face my skin feels as though it has been scalded.
    But it is cosy in our little house, and I am very happy here. You should not worry about me, Maman. I know that I am far away in one sense, but in another I am as close as ever. And you know that I will always be your Dédé
    My darling Albert,
    It was cruel to come to the boarding house and say those words to me. It was cruel to give me that package, which I was so excited to receive, hardly daring to breathe as I opened it, then finding inside the gifts I had sent to you. All those hours over the weak coal fire, my fingers stiff with cold, making that scarf and those gloves, that pillow slip where you have never once laid your head.
    I do not understand what has changed you, why you don’t feel what you once did. Perhaps you could explain it to me? Perhaps then I’d be able to understand.
    I stood in the hallway, after you’d gone, the cold blast of air from the open door still lingering around me. But I felt colder than that air. I felt as cold as the dead feel. I felt dead.
    I cried. But it does no good to cry. No one hears you when you cry. There must be an ear for a voice, just as there must be a saucer for a cup. This letter is at least an ear for my voice, although I am not sure I will have the courage to sendit to you. There was a stack of my letters in that parcel you gave me, tied neatly together with a black ribbon. Some of the envelopes not even opened.
    Why do I not deserve your love, Albert? Answer me that. What have I done that is so terrible that I cannot have your love?
    Your heartbroken Adèle
    My dear Papa,
    I cannot simply return to France. I am a married woman now. My duties are with my husband. Please stop asking me to return.
    Adèle
    My darling Albert,
    I will heed your request, my darling. You will see no more of Adèle. She will not follow you through the streets, or wait for you outside the fancy houses where you go to dance. She will not send you any more letters – although she will continue to write them. No, you will see no more of Adèle.
    I have bought myself a cane and a top hat, a coat with tails. I am reborn as Antoine Lewly. There is such freedom