A “King Lear” transformation.

Dear Kent,

I want to put right all that has gone awry. In your letter, you voiced a fear for my father’s sanity, and I too share that fear. I cannot believe this kingdom has sunk so low! It is unthinkable that my father has lost his grasp on power – if my sisters fulfil their intentions he will have nothing. In turn, I now have nothing! I have no father, no power, no money – I am living only off my husband’s royalties, and I am worried for myself.

To be banished by my own father! How can it be so? Our bond was stronger than that of my sisters. Insincere, they are proud as peacocks, shedding false feathered promises, which have no reflection on their true feelings. I do not trust them so far as yet; I fear hidden intentions. Happily wed, France carries half my love with him, half my care and duty. But sure, I said, I should never marry like my sisters. Why do these words, so true to the fountain of my mind, have such little effect upon my father? My sisters chose to have husbands, so how can father believe they love him all? They have shrewdly, dependent upon their own cunning, spun this web of deceit; capturing our father in their transparent threads. I am infuriated beyond anything I have felt before. As a daughter, I have just as much right to this kingdom as anyone else. I have done no wrong by my father, and yet I am left with nothing. Nothing will come of nothing! If you could only hear me Kent – my words scream with anger. This abhorrence between me and my sisters is destroying my name and my wealth! We are not the first, Kent, who with best meaning, have incurred the worst. How could I have rejected my father’s offer of a husband, when it was the only thing left to me, to keep me alive? Something to name as mine! And yet, by doing so, and marrying, I have gone against the very words spoken to prove my love for my father; and even now, I still do not own my kingdom.

Amidst all this negativity, however, France, I admit, is glorious; I would be sad to leave, if I was not aware of more pressing matters back home. Here, there is a thrilling sense of freedom, which was never present back in England. I have tried innumerable new things; devoured so many delicacies – such wonderful foods that Cordelia has never even seen before. The sun sets in the evening, in such a beautiful array of colours, that the walls of my parlour turn pink, and the whole world is painted in the colours of summer. Indeed, on such evenings, I wonder if I am in some glorious, rose-tinted dream. In France, my anger feels lessened slightly. But then I open my eyes, and I remember. My life was so miserable when I left England, that moving here has given me time to think.

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