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Introduction
Hello, Lovelies!
Today I want to show you a letter between two super tight friends!
But first-
Since today’s document is shorter, I wanted to discuss something. When I’ve told my friends about this, more than one has suggested I am looking for Aphros stories. I’m not, but I wanted to address it because I get where they’re getting that impression.
In case you don’t follow the news, evidence has surfaced of some different types of love stories that have defied science (i.e., immortal couples, couples with proof of reincarnation, psychic soulmates, etc.). People call them a lot of things (I’ve also seen them referred to as “Eros”), but in what little scientific literature there is, they seem to have settled on Aphros.
Aphros love stories are so rare that there are only a handful of examples worldwide. I know there’s a lot of hype around them, but I don’t follow much of that. I understand the interest, but it’s just something I never had a big fascination with.
From what I know (which is admittedly limited), there’s no proof of a relationship that counts as Aphros that is “queer,” as we would call it today. They’re all either heterosexual romances, friendships, or siblings. I’ve seen some queer scholars point out that this is likely at least partly b.s. cause we know a lot of people in history aren’t as cis and straight as we think. Also, we suspect there are a lot of people who are in an Aphros relationship who intentionally hide it (I think).
Obviously, if we find evidence of an Aphros story in the documents I’m finding, it would be amazing. For right now, I think they’re all relatively normal people living their normal lives.
So to summarize, I’m aware that Aphros relationships exist, but I’m not actively looking to find one. I just like looking at this stuff. Nothing extraordinary needs to be here for it to be beautiful.
Now, onto our document for the week!
This artifact is about titled “A letter between friends.” It is a letter that was found by a distant relative of Elouise in a book that had been passed down. I’ll let you decide whether or not you think these two women were friends or not.
Content Warnings:
- Mentions of Death (Spousal)
- Mentions of Infertility
A Letter from Veronica to Elouise
[Back of an envelope with a gold floral wax seal on it The paper is yellowing]
Veronica
702 Bay Street
Keslo, England
[Back of an envelope with a gold floral wax seal on it The paper is yellowing]
Elouise
36 Bloomfield Lane
Thorndron, England
[The outside of a paper folded to be the envelope. It has both addresses from above in a different perspective as well as the seal]
September 5, 1814
My Dearest, Elouise
I apologize for the fortnight without communication from me. It is too long. In truth, I have been trying to write this letter since I received mail from you last. I want to ask something of you, but I realize this proposition will ask more of you than any question I’ve asked you yet. I do not take this lightly, my dearest. Therefore, in an effort to remind you of my love for you (and perhaps of your love for me), I shall spend most of the letter recounting our personal history. I hope this recantation will persuade you of the seriousness with which I make my final proposal.
Of my thirty-two years of life, I lived the first half without your presence. I did not meet you until, by chance, we stood by the same shelf of my favorite bookstore at the same time. I had a pocket full of money from my recent sixteenth birthday, and you were looking for a story which would delight you during your travel back home. Though our conversation started with book recommendations, we continued to talk for nearly an hour.
Our first encounter came to an end when your elder brother (if I recall correctly, it was Charles) arrived to bring you to the train station. I must admit, my heart ached even then when you walked away. To my surprise, you had ensured that it would not be the final time in which we spoke. Your home address was left inside the cover of the book which you knew I intended to buy. I will never understand how you managed such a feat, and I suspect you will never tell me.
Our correspondences were immediately long and frequent. Though the trip between our homes was 3 days drive, we made do with letters. When the post would be delivered, I would rush downstairs in the hopes that a letter from you had arrived. When this was the case, I whisked it away to my room to enjoy it in private. I do not believe I ever told you, but during our early days of communication, before our families had met, my mother was convinced I was communicating with a suitor whom I did not tell her about. She suspected me of the same deceit she herself had committed when my father courted her. Have I told you how their love began? It is a story remarkably similar to our own. I shall make space for it in a future letter or conversation.
As our friendship blossomed, so did our respective social lives. Though we had met in person only once, you knew more about me than my closest friends as I began the dreadful work of searching for a husband. I will not bore you with a recantation of my trials and tribulations during this time.
You were fortunate and found a man with which you could live amicably. We were able to meet in person again when you invited me to your hometown for three weeks to prepare for and celebrate your betrothal to dear Edward. I had come with joyous news of my own. Between the letter I had written and my arrival, I received the offer of a job. The local seamstress was so impressed by my work she took me on as an apprentice. My mother held her promise to halt her search for my suitor if I became employed. I was a free woman, and your husband was a lovely man.
That visit was wonderful for me. It is the first time I remember hearing your laughter and feeling my own face form a smile at the sound. You were sat in the golden chair your mother kept aside the window. I do not remember what I said which invoked such a reaction in you, but I recall with perfection the way your chin tilted back as your shoulders shook with joy. There were creases beside your eyes that pointed toward your beautiful hair, which bounced as you moved. I knew then that I would be your friend for as long as you would have me.
For ten years, our relationship kept us both afloat. As I struggled with the trials of my apprenticeship and then my own store and learned intimately the difficulty of being a single woman in an economy built for married men, you offered me solace and advice. Your kindness and gentle humor kept me optimistic on my darkest days. You offer not just precious advice and kind humor but an open ear to which I can regal my struggles. Elouise, you are my rock.
In turn, I did my best to offer you the care and peace you deserved as you and Edward began the trials of marriage and tried desperately to begin a family. I knew of the heartache you felt and did everything in my power to support you. Your sorrows and anguish became mine, but I shared in your joy as well. We learned from each other, we grew with each other, and in the end, we mourned with each other.
I still remember in vivid detail what I was working on when your letter arrived. To learn you had lost your husband filled me with such pain. I shall not dwell on that suffering, for I do not wish for you to have to relive that pain for my sake. I will only say I hope my visit to you during your time of mourning brought you comfort.
In the three years since, I have seen more of you than I could have hoped. I am afraid this is a double-edged sword, for though I greatly treasure our time together, it has made me even more desperate for your company when you are away. I hope I am not ignorant in assuming you feel the same about me. I have felt the joy in your heart when we reunite and seen your downcast expression when we must part. We both seem to feel much more attached now than we had in years prior. We are closer than I ever thought was possible. I have heard it said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I cannot imagine this is true. It is through our closeness that I have become more endeared to you.
It is with this endearment in mind that I make my proposal: Elouise, will you move to Keslo and live in my home with me? There is no one on this earth who I would rather spend my days with than you, and it is much more possible to do so if you live nearby. Should this move be too much to ask of you, then would it be too unbecoming of me to make my way to your town? To start my business over may be taxing, but it is nothing compared to the thought of continuing to live away from you.
I understand that my question begs time to formulate a response. I do not expect haste in your answer. Know, I have spent the past month ruminating on this question and the past fortnight drafting my letter to you now.
If this proposal is too much or you feel it is inappropriate for a spinster and a widow to share a home, please know I will think nothing less of you. No matter your response, I hope to remain your best friend, as you are mine.
All My Love,
Veronica
Outroduction
Love when Gals are Pals.
Despite thinking they were friends, the archive this letter was stored in did some research on these particular girls. I am happy to report to you that in the census following this letter, Elouise and Veronica were living together in an apartment in Keslo.
I really hope these two women were able to live out the rest of their days together in happiness and love.
In two weeks, I’ll have another story for you all; in the meantime, stay queer and take care of yourself.
Chrys
