Tag Archives: book: the stolen name

Author’s Note: More of the historical.

Got all the details about what I’m doing by putting bits of this and the other up here.

The Ladies and the Letter

“Violet? Look at me, daughter. What has come over you?”

“I shall be ill,” she said, sitting down with the letter in her hand, shaking her head in disbelief. She did not understand. Why would he do this to her? True, their courtship had been rather fast, advancing at such a pace as dismayed her mother and worried her aunt. Of course, her aunt assumed everyone was always after the pittance her father had left her as his only child, though only she considered that a sum of money worth squabbling over. She had never thought it so, and she didn’t think that Winston had, either. She did not think that was why he’d done this. He had more money of his own, didn’t he?

“What is it?” her mother asked, taking the letter from her. Her eyes searched the words, shaking her head as she did. “What an impossible cad. How can he pretend that he doesn’t know you? As far as I’m concerned, he knows you far too well.”

Violet put a hand over her stomach, trying to will it to be still. Between the child and the sickness that accompanied it, she had not been able to do much of late, forcing her to renew her efforts to locate her husband. He’d left her over six months ago, and she did not know that she would have cared so much had she not discovered the unpleasantness of her situation a few weeks later. The nausea that had woken her that morning had been a constant companion since, and she could not help feeling that it was to become much worse.

“Mother, please, there is some kind of… misunderstanding here.”

“Misunderstanding? How can you call it that? The man is saying that he doesn’t know you. He didn’t marry you. He is not going to take care of his child. He was only interested in one thing from you, and he got it. Now he’s done.”

Violet closed her eyes. “Why would any man go to such lengths to get such a thing from me when he could have had some other woman, a loose one, or paid for the pleasure? Marrying me seems excessive.”

“I applaud you for having the morals to insist on having that ring first, my dear, but it would seem that he was willing to go as far as he needed to ensure he got what he wanted, and now he is going to claim that this never happened.” Her mother gestured first to her stomach and then grabbed the framed portrait that sat on the table. “We must speak to the minister. If he was bribed, if he was not—”

“Mother! That was the man that christened me. Wasn’t he? I don’t know that we’ve been all that regular in our attendance at his services, but he has been here for many years. As far as I know, he is an honorable man who would not have participated in such a thing.”

Her mother sighed. “Someone is lying. That is undeniable. Whether that someone is the man you married, the one who married you, or someone else, I don’t know, but you can’t say that they’re not. Unless, of course, that someone is you.”

Violet put a hand on her back. “If I had perhaps succumbed to his charm without upholding my morality, I might have tried to lie about the wedding, but you were there. The whole town was. He must be lying. I will write back to him and make my feelings on this matter quite clear. I refuse to let him do this to me. If he has acted dishonorably, then I will confront him about it. He can… divorce me if he does not want to have responsibility for me or the child.”

“I cannot believe you said that.”

“I admit, the idea of a divorce is extremely unpleasant. I do not care for what that would make me, but it is not what it once was. I think I could bear it rather than be tied to him forever after he has used me this way. The child does not need a father that would behave in such a way, either.”

“The child needs a father.”

“I was fine without mine. You and Aunt Beatrice have taken care of me all my life, and you managed very well. I shall do the same, assuming I survive getting this child into the world.”

“Do not say that,” her mother said, placing her hands on her cheeks. “We are not losing you. Perhaps you should let me write the letter. You do not need any further upsets.”

Violet lowered her mother’s hands. She pushed herself up from the chair. “No. I need to do this. It is—I am the one he wronged. The message must come from me. We have another of the photographs from the wedding, don’t we? I want to send one. Let him try and deny that.”

Author’s Note: A bit more of the historical to help people decide.

The Patriarch and the Letter

“She’s not your wife.”

“Of course not. I’m not married,” Robert said, and then he frowned, wondering if he was hallucinating again. He had seen some horrible things on the front lines, and he’d seen some impossible things as well, the ones that haunted his dreams and even at times his waking hours. Shell-shock, they called it, but he dared not voice its name, not when he stood to lose so very much by the mere admission of such a malady. “What do you mean she’s not my wife?”

“She writes as though she was,” his father went on, and Robert felt himself succumb to old hatred, angry enough to hurt the other man. He did not want to do it, but he did not know that he could control himself as he once had. His father had been far too comfortable with the role of family patriarch, tending to treat the family and all their holdings as his private empire, never having much tolerance for those who would think for themselves.

“You read my mail again?”

“This letter alleges that you and she spent a rather significant amount of time together. It would seem that she believed you courted her.”

“Father, I have only recently left the hospital, and before that I was on the front line. I am not courting anyone, but even if I were, it is no affair of yours. Give me my letter.”

“You are in no place to order me about.”

“Tampering with the mail is illegal, and that includes opening my letters,” Robert said, using his good arm to snatch the papers from his father. The old man glared at him, and he wondered how long it was before another threat of disinheritance came. He would not care, not if he were in good health and mental state, but at present, he did not think that he could afford to annoy his father, not to the point he would have before he was drafted.

He sat down, reading over the words, starting over again and again, as though the script would change. Nothing altered—not a word, not a loop, not the slant of that feminine hand—and he found himself shaking his head. “Impossible.”

“Then you deny knowing this woman.”

“I already said that.” Robert shifted in his seat, placing the papers in his lap so that he could use his one arm to maneuver the one that was half-dead onto the chair where it could remain until he regained feeling in it. He had dreams sometimes of the surgeons telling someone to amputate, that the arm was gone, but then he always heard his father’s voice refusing to let it happen.

No son of his could be a cripple.

“Then explain to me how she wrote you as though she knew everything about you. These details of your childhood—”

“I do not know how she came by them, but unless I wanted to be in front of an execution squad for desertion, I would not have been able to be with this woman. You know that. I know that. Have the army send you my records if you need further proof. I am certain you have the money to get them,” Robert said, shaking his head. The part that bothered him was the reference that his father had pointed out—a story he supposed could be common to many boys with his heritage.

He had always hated bearing the same name as his father, though everyone called him RJ or Boss, and he’d gone around trying to convince everyone not to call him Robert or John or Winston for over two years before he understood how much influence his father had. Still, that could hardly be that unique of a tale.

Other boys must have given false names as a lark if nothing else.

He gathered the letter up in his hand, forcing himself out of the chair. “I will write back to her. If this is some kind of plan to trap me for money, it will not work. However, if there is someone using my name to take advantage of women, I must find him and stop him.”

His father snorted. “As if you could do anything to anyone in your condition.”

“You rather tempt me to prove otherwise, Father. I think it is best that I leave now.”

Author’s Note: So this has also been in the back of my mind for a bit now. A fellow writer mentioned doing a story all in letters, and I thought the idea was intriguing but not my style. I don’t think that it would work to tell all of this story, but I had the opening bit of the first letter come to me, and I thought I’d try it as well.

Plus it would be a different sort of historical mystery than I usually end up with, and that’s something worth exploring as well.

If you think this should be a serial on the site, let me know (comment, social media, etc.)

Identity Theft

Miss,

I received your letter this morning and confess that I puzzled over it a great deal. You speak with such intimacy, but I cannot help thinking that we are both somehow the victim of a malcontent. You see, I cannot recall your name, your face, or any of the details you included. If a man has, in fact, introduced himself to you purporting to be Robert John Winston the third, then we do have some kind of a dilemma.

Due to my present circumstances, I have not traveled in some time, and I do not think I ever made it to the town from which your letter came. Nor do I recall any lady such as yourself in whose company I spent any length of time.

I would request, then, further information on what this man said, did, and promised, for I fear he has misrepresented me in the worst sort of way. If he did take advantage of you in any way, I will do what I can to set things right. I cannot allow someone to abuse my name and my reputation in this manner.

Respectfully,

Robert Winston

******************************************

Dear sir,

Since your memory seems to have failed you, I have inclosed this photograph to remind you of the particulars. If you are, as you claim, unfamiliar with me or the events with which I spoke of in my letter, then I shall be surprised, but I cannot think that you are.

Considering that your departure came more than six months previous, that you left no word nor made any effort to contact me after the events which I detailed in my letter—one which is hardly the first missive I have sent, I find your conduct not only ungentlemanly but also quite cowardly. If you were not willing to stay with the commitment that you made, you had only to say so. This is not a game that I find at all amusing, nor do I care to play this one with you as well.

I ask that you cease any further attempts to avoid my letters or pretend ignorance of the situation that you left me in. I do not believe we are dealing with any malcontent other than you yourself, and I refuse to acknowledge such a farcical excuse.

Though it will bring my family considerable shame and me all the more so, you may end your dealings with me with what little honor you have left and divorce me. I do not ask for any great sum of money, but if you will not even so much as acknowledge the fact that you are, indeed, my husband, then kindly relinquish those rights legally as well. I have no desire to be attached to a man who has treated me in such a manner, nor do I feel that it is worth arguing with you over this matter.

You need not bother contacting me directly if that is what is so distasteful or impossible for you. Have your family’s lawyer draw up the papers and send them to me. I will sign them. I want no part of man who cannot remain faithful for even one year.

Violet Winston

******************************************

Miss,

Or perhaps Mrs. Winston is a better form of address, for I do think your wedding photograph is rather a compelling image.

Here you have me at quite a loss. I do not understand, as that man beside you bears more than a passing resemblance to me, but I swear to you—I have never met you, nor am I married. These are things that I assure you I would remember. I have been overseas for the past two years, and it is quite impossible that we could have met, for the date on the back is one where I was taken in wounded to the field hospital. If you should wish for my military records, I shall have them soon, as I have already initiated an inquiry there, though when you see me, I should think it would be rather obvious what happened.

Unless this is some kind of cruel jest on your part, we have both been victimized by this man. He has used you far worse than me, but he did so by employing my name and everything that goes with it. I am making arrangements to travel to speak to you in person as soon as I have the records unless you should like to come here instead.

If you did not create this as a farce of your own, I do hope you will be willing to work with me to resolve this matter. I am not certain how that might be done, but I assure you, I am not a coward, nor am I trying to be less than a gentleman. I enclose a picture my mother insisted upon before I left for the front.

You can see, of course, that I have some features in common with the man you knew, but I am not that man.

******************************************

Dear sir,

I fear you must come here in person, nothing less would satisfy, and in addition to it, my current poor health will not allow me to do any traveling.

I left out a detail in my previous letters as I thought it was perhaps what made you act so cowardly, and I do not know if that has changed at all or what has taken place, since it seems you may indeed have been elsewhere. Nevertheless, it is the reason that I am now confined to my bed as the doctor says this ordeal of mine has taken too much of a toll on my body. I am not supposed to move, not after the way your letters affected me. Would that I was not so weak in spirit and will and apparently in body as well. It seems I was not capable of resisting any part of your… charm, and that is the misfortune I now suffer.

That is to say—no, I do not wish to write it. You will see when you come.

There will be no hiding it.

I am pregnant.