Dear Bethy, June 11, 18--
Congratulations Bethy dearest! I wish you all the joys and none of the
discomforts of being a sister at last. We are all delighted at the news though
it promises to keep you away from us longer than ever. But I am so glad you are
settling into your new life and that you can enjoy such beauty around you. I
remember how you used to bemoan the drab, grey streets in your early London
letters.
It is a warm Sunday afternoon, the only time I have to write to you
uninterrupted. I had a chance to speak with Miss Rhona today, we are becoming
better acquainted and I find her such agreeable company and I believe she
enjoys mine too—if only for variety from her cousins’ continual gossip. We have
little opportunity to see each other though for the Wardes like to think
themselves above associating with us on any but business terms. But Miss Rhona
has asked me this morning whether I would sew for her several new summer
garments, and I said I would be glad to. I shall look forward to the fittings
and I hope to become better friends with her.
She seems to always be such a lonely soul, Miss Rhona dose. I don’t
believe she has any real friends and keeps all her thoughts quietly to herself.
As Coinneach
observed today, it gives her an air of mystery, as if she were hiding some
great secret. But I told him that was mere fancy and a girl can’t help her
nature or how she looks. Though privately I thought to myself that we can a
little!
Little Davie is out with his elder brother at the moment looking at the
ponies. I see them through the window together standing in a patch of sun Davie
imitating Coinneach’s manly stance and discussing the ponies’ points. Coinneach is like a father to Davie, so kind
and gentle yet firm with him. He will make a fine father to his own children
one day.
I will confide in you a fond hope of mine, dear Bethy. I have sometimes
thought that Miss Rhona takes kindly to my brother; I have seen her eyes, and I
wonder at the mist that clouds them when she watches him thinking herself
unobserved. It is not so unlikely really, Bethy, for her station is not above
his; his may be said to be above hers—by birth and breeding in any case. She is
but a ladies companion and he his own man and son of the vicarage. Mother must resign herself to the fact that
Coinneach will not become a man of the cloth as our father was. He is not ‘cut
out’ for it; he is a man of the land who must win his bread by the labour of
his hands and is hardworking enough to do well enough for himself and a family.
And so why not marry if he were to return her feelings, and if I am true in my
guess of hers? She could learn to keep a house well enough—but no I’m going too
far, it’s merely a fancy of mine which will come to nothing. But you never can
tell what will happen in the future, I could write a hundred guesses and still
be wrong.
I am enjoying the book you sent, Coinneach enjoys reading it of an evening
too, and can at times be persuades by the young ones to read it aloud to them.
‘Keni’worse, Keni’worf’ they plead until he relents, he reads well and we all
enjoy it. Thank you, Bethy, you are such
a dear, we do not often get a new book to read and it is such a pleasure.
I hope your Mama is doing well, let her get enough fresh air, Mothers
swears to its benefits for all conditions! Give our love and deep respects to
you Papa, Mr Reid; we every one of his tenants look forward to the return of
our Laird.
God bless you all,
With much love,
Amelia
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