Things she never said...

Diana picked absentmindedly at a piece of loose thread dangling from the braiding on her shirtwaist. Henry wouldn't come back to her unless she went to him; he had too much pride for that, no matter how much he loved her. The army? Why the army? Why did he have to go so far away? Even as she asked herself the question she knew the answer, because if she had the choice she would have done the same thing. There was nothing in the world she would love more than to run away from Henry Schoonmaker, forget all about him, go back to life as it once was before him. When she was still silly little Diana Holland, sister of the most loved young socialite in New York. She dropped her head into her hands, and behind her closed eyelids memories of Henry swam across her vision, she could almost feel him. The way his hand felt in hers, the way his lips felt on the bare skin of her neck...

She stared at herself in the mirror of her dressing table, taking in the brown curls she was so famous for, the sad eyes. She needed to be rid of this; she had to start over again. Reaching for some letter paper and a pen, she began to write.

Dearest Henry,

I'm doing this for both of us. We need to move on.I need to move on. Seeing you with Penelope that night in Florida broke my heart, and I know I was wrong to use Grayson in such a dishonourable way, but I was desperate for you. I am so very sorry that you found me with Penelope's brother in such a way, and I am so ashamed. But when I thought of you I did not even care that you were married, all I could think of was that we needed to be together, no matter what the cost was to our families and reputations. I see now that I was simply living up to my name as foolish Diana Holland, and that I have damaged our love beyond repair. You see, that is the reason I am telling you all of this; there can be no love anymore. You will go to war and be a hero, and I will try to repair my family's name and marry someone rich who I do not and never will love. It goes against everything I ever thought myself to be, because I never before cared for mony or positition; I never understood it. But know this Henry; you will always own my heart.

Diana.

She read her words through once, and folded the paper neatly into a rectangle. After addressing the outside of the letter to HS, she kissed it once and tucked it into her skirt.

***

Diana Holland sat in a chair in the receiving room, a silent tear or two rolling down her pink cheeks. In the fire place in front of her burned a fire, and in that fire burned a letter addressed to HS. In that letter burned her heart.