“Haven’t seen you much since our secret wedding and things aren’t going so well with the fam these days so FYI I’m going to take a fake-death poison that your priest gave me. Don’t freak out, okay? I’ll see you on the other side. Hearts, J.”
“Just heard this afternoon from Darcy that you came through London months ago (visiting your aunt?). My sisters knew too, apparently, and didn’t even invite you to tea. Hope you’re not mad because I didn’t call. Thinking of returning to the countryside and looking forward to seeing your angelic face again—maybe at another Netherfield ball?”
“Me: here at Tara, toiling in cotton fields and mourning our daughter. You: not giving a damn, apparently. Call me, you bastard.”
“Still stuck in Mantua (lame!) and waiting to hear from you. Kinda starting to freak out, and Balthazar isn’t really helping...wait a sec, he just told me you’re dead. WTF!?...Screw banishment, I’m coming to find you. Stay wherever you are and I’ll see you when I get there.”
“I don’t understand why you do these things. I don’t mean to hurt you. I just love you so much, baby. Edgar Linton is a pussy, you know he is. Ditch him and meet me on the moor. I promise I’ll treat you right this time.”
“I saw you at your house in East Egg today. You said you were ‘paralyzed with happiness.’ Was that because of me? LOL. Thinking about you as I stare at the green light across the lake. Are you staring back? I hope so.”
“Does anyone know an R. Montague in this town? I was supposed to deliver a message for him, but when I got to where he was supposedly staying he wasn’t there. Let me know if you hear from him—his letter is stamped ‘post-haste.’ Hope he's OK!”
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