𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫
Pairing: Gabby Williams x Marine Johannès
Content warning: mild language
a/n: no more for a month after this /j but seriously might go on hiatus for a bit while im in japan. ALSO, FOR THE SAKE OF THE PLOT, NAZIS ARENT REAL. THIS WILL MAKE SENSE I PROMISE.
taglist: @marrymekatemartin, @wbbszn
dividers by @enchanthings-a, masterlist here
A word from the archivist:
The following is a series of letters between Miss Gabby Williams and Miss Marine Johannès.
By some miracle, I managed to dig these out from various locations. Most, if not all, of Miss Williams’ letters were stored safely in the National Archives, but Miss Johannès’ letters was much more difficult to track down. I have a mostly complete collection, I believe, bar a few letters that were lost to time or too damaged to transcribe.
Miss Williams lived from 1896 until 1973, when she tragically passed away due to unknown causes. Before then, however, she exchanged letters with Miss Johannès, who was believed to have lived in France at the time. Miss Johannès lived from 1895 until 1975, and passed away from old age.
Miss Williams was an inspiration to many female authors at the time, including Miss Johannès. While education for women—especially women of colour—was no longer uncommon, most women still ended up as housewives.
Miss Williams was the exception to this, being vocal on her education from a young age. She would then go on to publish 8 books—half of which were French—and hundreds of essays in her lifetime.
As for Miss Johannès, not much is known about her childhood. Most records of her life were either spoken or in one of her own 6 books, none of which had a plethora of information.
While both of their lives have been documented separately, much of their time together has been hidden from public view for many years, due to controversy surrounding relationships like theirs. This is also the reason many letters are illegible, some blacked out by ink and others burned.
All letters, bar the first one, were written in a mix of French and English. All French has since been translated.
From: M. Johannès, Lisieux, France
17th May, 1921
Before I continue with this letter, I would like to preface this with: my English is not the strongest, so I apologise for any errors I make.
While I am certain you will have absolutely no idea who I am, I have every idea who you are. That is to say, I read your latest book, “A Starlit Explosion” around a month ago, and I have re-read it around half a dozen times since.
I don’t think I’ve been this hung up on a book since I was a child.
After reading it, I ended up working my way through your other two books, “Find me in the In-Between” and “A ship without a sail” fairly quickly. I read both within the span of two weeks, sometimes missing meals when I was too engrossed in the story.
Your way with words is enough to prompt oneself to write.
Beyond that, I want to tell you how great of an inspiration you are. You are nothing short of extraordinary, and you have managed to impact me, even if my English has never been perfect and my writing worse than that.
While you currently remain unaware of my identity, I hope that, someday, you will see my name on bookshelves and my face on flyers. My dream has always been to become an author, to create art just as much as I consume it, and my first novella, “Au Clair de la Lune” will be published in a few months. I’ve included the first 3 chapters in this letter for you to read, all translated to English. I do hope you'll enjoy it.
Note: "Au Clair de la Lune" or "Under the Moonlight" is Miss Johannès' first book, and is amongst one of her more popular novels. Much later on, it was used as inspiration for a French children's folk song.
If you’ve made it this far, past my not so coherent thoughts, I do applaud and thank you. You don’t need to write me back, I’m sure you have more important things to do.
From: Gabby Williams, Seattle, United States
30th May, 1921
I’ve never been great with writing letters, but yours was too sweet to not reply to. In fact, I rarely read letters, but your postal stamp was very…different. I was tempted.
Your English may be better than mine. But Je parle français, tu sais. C'est pourquoi mes livres n'existent qu'en versions anglaise et française.
Note: Here, Gabby says, “I can speak French, you know. That’s why there are only English and French versions of my books.”
Either way, skipping meals to read is an unhealthy habit. Though I do suppose it would be a bit rude of me to criticise you for it when I do the same.
You flatter me greatly in saying that I’m an inspiration. I’m merely a 26 year old trying to make a living, though I’m not opposed to your take on things.
I’d barely skimmed through the first chapter when I decided to respond. If you are willing, I would much prefer to read it in French, for I am sure there are many nuances I’m missing in English.
That said, the first chapter is phenomenal. I can already tell that you are an incredible author, and I can only assume you are a dozen times better in French.
As you have shared part of your manuscript with me, I figured it's only right I share some of my own works with you. Included is part of the original draft for “A Sttarlit Explosion”, as well as the first chapter of my next book, “Au revoir, petit oiseau”, both of which are signed. I do hope you won’t be too harsh of a critic. It is, after all, my first time writing in French.
Note: “Au revoir, petit oiseau” or “Goodbye, little birdie” spoke on Miss Williams’ relationship with one of her mentors, Sue Bird, who had retired the following year. It ended up being one of Miss Williams’ most popular stories.
If you know when your novella is releasing, do let me know. I’d love to buy a copy or two myself.
Most of the letter, after the first paragraph, was written in English. For your convenience, I have found translations and scribed those instead. All letters after this are written in French, and have also been translated, bar a few parts.
From: M. Johannès, Lisieux, France
15th June, 1921
Similar to my English skills, your letter-replying isn’t half bad. I am flattered, similar to you, that I could serve as a source of temptation. While people have used many words to describe me, tempting has never been one of them.
I didn’t know you spoke French, though. How did you learn it, if you don’t mind me asking?
I’ve included a first copy of “Au Clair de la Lune”, in French this time. I hope it lives up to your expectations. It was very kind of you to share your work with me, nonetheless a French story. Sue sounds like a delightful woman, based on your descriptions of her.
My novella will release in September in France, and November for the states. You don’t have to buy it—there really isn’t a point in getting more than one copy.
My mother recently visited me, and she was quick to find our letters. She can’t read English, but I have never seen the woman so delighted. I was a rather lonely child growing up, mostly by choice, so she was more than a little pleased to see I wasn’t rotting away.
I do think she worries for me, but she is proud nonetheless.
Perhaps this is too forward of me, and I am truly sweating as I write these words out, but if you are to ever come to France, please do tell me. Similar to my mother, I’d be more than a little pleased to see you.
Lisieux is beautiful, if not a little boring for most tourists. I’d be happy to show you around either way. I’ll make it worth your time.
With (a little too much) love,
From: G. Williams, Seattle, United States
9th July, 1921
I’m writing this letter in French for your sake, but if I’m being honest, I’m rather rusty, so I beg your forgiveness if I make any mistakes.
I also apologise for taking a rather long time to respond. I wanted to finish reading your manuscript before I responded, and I will admit I got sidetracked multiple times. I have been cursed with a horrid attention span, unfortunately, and it being in French wasn’t the easiest either.
I grew up with my grandmother, who came from France. She preferred French and taught me the language. She’d refuse to talk to me in anything except French. I still can't pass as a native, though.
I would be a liar if I said I haven’t already gone around to various bookstores asking if they knew when your book would be out. I’ve reserved several copies in several stores already. And no, you telling me not to get more copies will not deter me. I was born being stubborn, after all.
Similar to your mother, Sue was rather delighted to find out I was exchanging letters with you. She and her roommate, Megan, came over to give me food and found me reading your letter. I got teased to death for hours.
I will admit, though—I wasn’t exactly displeased by it.
I do have plans to visit France, either in August of this year or early next year, depending on my schedule. Honestly, Lisieux wasn’t a city of my consideration, but now that you’ve brought it up, I’ll be sure to drop by when I do go.
Meeting you wouldn’t hurt either.
Booking tickets for the ship has been a nightmare, though. I’ve been at the ticketing office every other day trying to find something that’s within my budget.
With love (and an idiotic smile on my face as I write this),
p.s. I know you didn’t tell me it, but on my hunt for your book, I found your name. Marine suits you. Or, at least, the version I’ve read of in your letters.
From: M. Johannès, Lisieux, France
18th July, 1921
Dear Gabby (I do suppose I can call you this, now that you know my first name),
I’ve managed to get you a ticket (assuming you don’t have one) to France on the 15th of August. (I had to allow a buffer time to make sure you’d get this letter before the date, so I’m playing it safe.) I’ve heard it’s cheaper and easier to do so from France. The tickets are in the other envelope. If this is too hasty, I do apologise.
Your French isn’t terrible. You exaggerate greatly. Or, at the very least, your writing skills are decent. Your grandmother sounds like mine, except mine refused to do anything anyone asked of her.
It was entertaining until it wasn’t.
While I am glad you enjoyed the book, I really must say: you are something else, Miss Williams. I do thank you for reserving my book, but multiple locations is a bit much, don’t you think? (I know you said I can’t deter you, but it is worth a shot.)
Sue really sounds like a wonderful woman, as does her roommate. I do hope you weren’t teased too relentlessly on my behalf, and I do hope it didn’t kill you either—I haven’t even met you yet.
If you do end up using the tickets, I do wish you a safe trip. Don’t worry about costs, by the way. If I’m making you sail across the seas for me, the least I could do is provide for you.
Always awaiting your next letter (and hopefully, you),
From: Miss G. Williams, Seattle, United States
30th July, 1921
As I write this letter, I am also packing for my trip to France. While I may seem calm, I am really freaking out on this end. I cannot thank you enough for this.
The moment I received your letter, I ran from my home all the way to Sue’s just to scream it in her face before running back home, where I am currently writing this letter. In hindsight, this wasn’t the wisest thing I’ve done. And no, I’m not exaggerating. I really wish I was, though.
I’ll keep this letter short, so as to make sure you receive it as quickly as possible, because you seem like the kind that’ll spiral if I don’t let you know I’m arriving.
I can’t wait to meet you, Marine. You seem like a kind woman, and I’d be delighted to even glance in your direction.
Counting every clock tick until I see you,
Notes from the archivist:
I got to speak with Miss Johannès’ daughter, Irène, who was kind enough to share the following files with me, along with details that were erased from history.
The following is a journal entry from Miss Johannès, recounting her time with Miss Williams. The entry was written in French and has since been translated.
Confidential: M. Johannès’ notebook
Gabby’s ship departs today. I’ve found myself impulsively cleaning my entire apartment for the past 3 hours, moving things that don’t need to be moved, and now I’m writing this so my hands will have something to do.
I don’t really know what’ll happen when she’s here. Communicating with someone on a ship isn’t possible, after all, so I’ve been sitting here praying the seas grant her safe passage.
Honestly, I do have many questions for her, none of which are to do with her craft. There is something about her that tugs deep within me, and my inviting her was perhaps out of something more than admiration.
I am curious what she will make of me. I hope she doesn't feel overwhelmed by me, and that same intrigue she felt when she first talked to me persists.
MJ (signed in neat cursive, the J looping around to draw a small heart)
Gabby arrived earlier today. It’s currently nearing midnight as I write this, and Gabby is sound asleep in my guest room, but I simply must put my thoughts onto paper or I’m afraid I’ll forget them.
She is…everything. Maybe more. I have never been so captivated by anyone. Just the way she talks, moves, laughs, all of it. She commands the space around her with a grace I didn't know existed.
Perhaps I am a little selfish and don’t want her to leave.
But Gabby…she was so kind. She hugged me when we first met, she smelled like hazelnut. She asked about my book, about my family, about me. She talks so enthusiastically, both about her craft and about the people she loves.
I hope one day I’ll be one of the people she loves.
She called me Mari, and immediately got flustered when I pointed it out. She spoke in French, even when I teased her terrible accent, when I told her I prefer it.
Maybe this is the love poets write of.
Mari (with a heart for the dotted ‘i’)
Notes from the archivist:
We see a lack of any documentation from this point until the 23rd of September, when the next letter was sent by Miss Johannès. A boat ticket from Lisieux to Seattle on the same day was found with Miss Williams’ name on it.
It can also be noted that Miss Johannès’ book, “Au Clair de la Lune”, released on the 17th of September, 1921.
Most historians will stop showing the letters at this point, as many find the open confessions of love to be “too much”. The following letters were significantly more difficult to trace down, as past archivists and historians have hidden them from public view.
Miss Williams and Miss Johannès’ letters were courtesy of Rio, Miss Williams’ daughter, and of Irène respectively. Both privately told me they had been allowed to keep these letters as no museum or archive wanted them.
From: Miss M. Johannès, Lisieux, France
23rd September 1921
I know when you see the date at which I sent this letter out, you’ll laugh at my eagerness as you have a million times. I wish I was there to hear it for myself, but I’ll imagine it as many times as it takes for you to return.
You have been nothing but a delight to host, and I was glad to be given this chance to meet you, even if you did ask me to sign your copy of my book like I was some star.
I am, of course, devastated to see you go, but I am quietly proud of you from my little apartment. Your presence had filled my home with a warmth I’d never felt, and now, without you constantly next to me, pestering me, the whole world feels a little darker.
By the way, thank you for staying for my book release. It was a scary day, but having you next to me made it a little easier to breathe.
I know that when I look back on these letters the next time I see you again, I’ll think myself dramatic. So, for now, I’m going to stop my endless spiel on how much I love you.
Wishing you many successes, my sweet.
Missing your arms around me,
Mari (signed with a small heart next to it, drawn neatly)
p.s. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you took my perfume. You’re lucky I love you.
From: Miss G. Williams, Seattle, United States
30th September 1921
I will be very honest with you, when I came home to find this letter already waiting for me in my mailbox, I was sure you must’ve sent it to me before I’d even reached France.
When I saw the date, I did laugh. Loud enough that my cat stared at me weird.
Meeting you was my pleasure, really. I have never been so glad to see someone, let alone stay with them for a month. You are one of the purest souls I have ever met.
And you absolutely are a star. If not the world’s, then mine. I would ask for your autograph in every lifetime, whether you were a random woman or the most famous person in the world.
Your support, however loud, means the world. I feel a little warmer inside knowing you care about me even on the other end of the earth.
I miss you too, you know. I miss how your breath always stuttered before you laughed, and how you never seemed to know what to do with your hands when I didn’t hold them. It feels so lonely without you.
I hope you never stop your spiel about how much you love me. I love that I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.
This is…a little random, but I got a croissant today, the moment I stepped off the ship. It wasn’t as good as the ones you bought me. Or maybe I’m just biased.
With your wishes, I know I’ll succeed.
Impatiently waiting for the day I see you again,
Gabs (with a small heart scrawled next to it—much messier than Marine’s.)
p.s. Your perfume smells nice, I'm not sorry for taking it. And I’m aware than I’m lucky you love me.
Miss Johannès’ daughter was unable to find any letter that followed this one. The next letter seemed to be responding to the missing one.
From: Miss G. Williams, Seattle, United States
17th October, 1921
I woke up this morning after dreaming of you. I’ve never felt so unsettled waking up, yearning for something I haven’t physically lost.
I told Halle about you, at your request. She didn’t have anything to say. She just kind of stared at me weirdly and meowed before hitting me with her paw. I don’t really know what to make of it, so do with that information as you will.
I’m never lying when I say you’re perfect. No matter how many flaws you claim to have, I promise I will only ever see it as perfection. Mari, you are a star. My star. And I will shout it from the rooftops until you understand. I wish that you’ll let me support you the same way you support me, because you are even greater than I am.
I bought carnations the other day. I don’t really know why you like them, but they make me think of you so I’ll keep them alive for as long as I can.
I feel weirdly compelled to tell you this, but I got a book on chickens the other day. It’s really interesting. I’ve spent the past two days holed up reading it. Sue was convinced I’d died.
I can’t wait to see you, my Mari. I can’t believe you’re coming here in a week. I’m not even sure if you’ll get this letter before you leave.
I love you. Safe trip, my sweet.
Gabby (with tiny stars drawn all around)
p.s. tell your mom thank you for the bonnet. it kept my curls safe all night long.
Notes from the archivist:
Miss Johannès was in Seattle from 1st November 1921 until 6th November 1921. Afterwards, she, presumably with Miss Williams, travelled via train to New York, where the launch of Miss Johannès’ book in America was held.
Archivists found passports stamped with the dates above, as well as train tickets that were tucked away neatly with these letters.
The pair spent near to four months there, up until 28th February 1922, when they returned to Seattle. There are no records of Miss Johannès moving back to Lisieux, and with most assumed Miss Johannès moved in with Miss Williams around this time.
They lived In Seattle together until 1923, when the pair moved back to Lisieux. This move seems to have been influenced by Miss Johannès’ mother falling ill. Her mother later passed in late 1923 due to pneumonia.
Historians found 2 identical rings along with a marriage certificate in 1925. The certificate was not legal, as marriage between two women had been shunned at the time, but the rings appeared to be entirely legitimate.
It can also be noted that Miss Williams sold her apartment in Seattle in 1927 while still staying with Miss Johannès. During the 5 years they lived together, both women wrote 2 novels each, with all 4 novels being some form of a love story. Miss Williams wrote a book titled "The Stars" during this time, and it tells the tale of two young women who fall in love. The book would not be released until Miss Williams passed.
In 1928, Miss Williams met her husband, whom she later had a kid with. Miss Johannès met her husband a few months later, a friend of Miss Williams' husband, and went on to have a kid with him as well.
The group of 4 would end up inseparable, commonly seen on double dates together. Mr James Elliot and Mr Robert Smith, Miss Williams and Miss Johannès' partners respectively, were university professors at the modern day Claude Bernard University in Lyon, specialising in sports science.
Miss Williams and Miss Johannès stayed together in Miss Johannès' apartment while Mr Elliot and Mr Smith stayed together in Lyon. This arrangement was formed out of convenience, and did not change until Mr Elliot and Mr Smith retired in 1952, both moving back to Lisieux to be with their wives.
From 1928-1952, Miss Williams and Miss Johannès wrote a total of 7 books, with Miss Williams writing 4 and Miss Johannès writing 3. The most notable would be Miss Johannès' "To be seen", her first book that was written in English. The book is littered with fake notations written by a second person, who was later revealed to be Miss Williams, as a way of being seen.
All 4 of them ended their careers in the same year, barring Miss Williams' "The Stars". Through retirement, the group were most often seen in Seattle, New York, Nevada, Paris, Lyon, and Lisieux.
Mr Elliot was first to pass in 1972 at the age of 78. He passed away due to old age, similar to Mr Smith, who passed the same year at 79.
Miss Williams passed in 1973 at 77 due to unknown causes. Most signs point to some kind of illness, though there are no medical records.
Miss Johannès, was the last to pass in 1975, dying of old age at 80.
Below is the last will and testament of Miss Gabby Williams, followed by the last will and testament of Miss Marine Johannès.
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF MISS GABBY WILLIAMS
1. 50% of my earnings are to be split between Miss Marine Johannès and my daughter, Miss Rio Elliot-Williams, evenly. The other 50% is to be donated to London Friend, the LGBTQ+ charity in the UK.
2. My manuscript, The Star, is to be released the moment I have passed.
3. All my assets are to be handed down to Miss Marine Johannès. Should she have passed, the items are to be passed to Miss Rio Elliot-Williams.
4. All funeral proceedings are to be decided by Miss Marine Johannès and Miss Rio Elliot-Williams.
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF MISS MARINE JOHANNÈS
1. All my earnings and assets, including my estate, are to be given to Miss Irène Johannès-Smith.
2. Any items I have received from Miss Gabby Williams are to be given to Miss Rio Elliot-Williams.
3. All my funeral proceedings are to be decided by Miss Irène Johannès-Smith.
Final word from the archivist:
Hi. I started chronicling Miss Williams and Miss Johannès' stories back in 2019, when I first discovered their friendship. Now, after 6 long years, as I've gone through every one of their letters and every last scrap of them I could find, I've learned just how much more it was.
While there has been a lot of speculation surrounding the pair's true relationship (as much of the above was hidden from public view), I do hope that their story is enough to inspire at least one kid out there who is too scared to love out loud. Their story is one that never deserved to be hidden, and I hope that, with all this compiled, it'll be a tale of love that is told through generations.
If I'm honest, the day I first met Miss Johannès-Smith and Miss Elliot-Williams, I almost cried. They each showed me their parents' most prized possessions. I got to hold their wedding rings in my hand and trace their words with my fingertips.
Miss Elliot-Williams admitted that she'd tried to tell the story herself and had even gone to multiple history museums with the rings, but none wanted them because it was, in their eyes, "too gay." The same homophobia and criticism Miss Williams and Miss Johannès faced in the past is not gone, and even after their passings, they are still shunned for it.
Miss Elliot-Williams told me about the day Miss Williams died, and the day her final novel was released. She said she remembered people's disgusted faces, and how, in every bookstore she went to, the books were flipped around to hide Miss Williams' name.
But what she remembered most of all was walking past a gay bar and hearing loud cheers. When she walked in, all she saw was her mother's face, plastered on every surface.
There, her death wasn't being scorned, but her life was being celebrated.
"That is a legacy," She'd told me, firm in her stance. "It is changing something, anything, for the better. And in her case, releasing that book was a symbol of hope."
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