To My Love

*-These characters are not mine. The genius is solely Miss Bronte’s.

 To My Love

The letter had been discovered by Nelly. The paper was yellowed and folded many times over. The ink was faded, but she knew the writer just the same.

“To My Love

 Today I am to be married. As much as I love Edgar, it is you my heart yearns for.

 Your whereabouts are unknown to me; my heart is broken because of your absence.

 I can still feel your lips on mine, the intoxicating scent of the stables on your skin. 

 I would love nothing more than to hold you in my arms and kiss you soundly, to run and play as we did as children, wild and free.

 But we are not children anymore and the time for play has passed.

 By the time the moon rises, I shall be Mrs. Edgar Linton. If only you had not run away that night, you would have heard how much I love you and how I planned to take you with me and protect you from Hindley.

 But you are not here. Edgar is here and loves me, so I will marry him.

 Wherever you are, my love, stay safe and come back to me. My heart is incomplete without you.

 Yours forever,


 Lost in her memories, Nelly heard squeals of laughter from the doorway.

“Hareton! I told you to stop!” Into the doorway, Cathy and Edgar’s daughter, Catherine ran in with her cousin, Hareton, just behind her, his hands reaching for her skirts.

“Why should I?” he asked, his eyes full of laughter.

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to”.

From the moment she was born, Catherine was her mother’s daughter, not even her father’s temperate nature and wisdom could tame her wild ways.

“Nelly, what have you got there?” Hareton asked, asked as both he and Catherine stopped, noticing the paper in her hand and the look in her eyes.

“Nothing” Nelly replied, putting the letter back in its place.

Tomorrow they would be leaving Wuthering Heights, starting fresh in a new home, far from the hatred and anger that had killed one generation and nearly destroyed the next.

Nelly would save the letter for Catherine’s children and maybe one day show it to Catherine, to show her the mother she never knew.


Author: Writergurlny

I am Brooklyn, NY born and raised writer who needs writing to find sanity in an insane world. To quote Charlotte Bronte: “I'm just going to write because I cannot help it.”

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