Letter Six (Dear Bethy)

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

First Circle Skirt photos

   Here are some photos I quickly snapped last night when I lay out the skirt to mark the hem line. Hemming it is going to take me four more hours I have estimated, since I am doing it by hand. And I wan't to get it done for tomorrow night for the ceili. That's Irish dancing which we go to every month.

  I'll post more photos of it on once I've finished it.

Shipwreck Story

My own Mama's shipwreck story! I thought some of you might like to read this interesting chapter form my mother's autobiography. She had a life of high adventure as you will find! Shipwreck Story

I think perhaps I have shared this before, but never mind! Enjoy it again! :)

Letter Five, (Dear Amelia)

Dear Amelia,                                                      May 26, 18-                                                                         

     There are five swans on the lake; I can see them gliding about so leisurely and handsome. They truly are water birds, being truly graceful only when afloat. I am sitting in a pretty little bower among the shrubs on the slope at the back of the house. It faces the lake which is as still as a sheet of glass this sunny forenoon, except for the ripples trailing behind the water birds. I don’t think I can ever get used to the beauty of this place. It is ‘new every morning’ and I am always finding some pretty new nook to hide away in and read or write, or just think and be. These are happy days. Smile for me, for I am smiling for you!

     I have good new to tell, but my pen is taking me away, running away with me, you see I am in a dreamy mood…

     I am reminded of the lines: ‘A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us.’ I have a volume of Keats at my side which I have been reading; it must have put me into this romantic mood! I don’t think Grandmamma approves of Keats or poetry at all for when she saw me reading him she said, ‘You seem to like to read often, and perhaps you would like to go over the books in the library. My husband left plenty when he died, he was an avid reader—like you.’ I thanked her but only took the hint when I went to explore the library as there is hardly a printed poem in the room. It is a pity for it is such a quiet, romantic place full of leather furniture and little hidey holes as well as hundreds of dust covered books on natural history, husbandry, and ancient philosophy—not particularly my favourite subjects.

     I am going to be a sister at last! There, that is my news. Sometime early next year I will be holding a little sibling in my arms, what happiness! I have always envied you your brothers and sisters and lamented being an only child, and now my wish has come true. Grandmamma has been sweet and charming ever since she heard the news, she can be quite domineering in her gracious proud way, but I think a child shall soften her most becomingly. ‘A grandchild at last!’ I heard her exclaim as I was passing below the drawing room window on my way to the lake to sketch, I paused to listen:

    ‘But Mother,’ I heard Mama say, ‘it won’t be the first…’ she trailed away but Grandmamma ignored her,

    ‘It will be a boy of course, he shall be called Harold after his grandfather or Seth, that is another family name, but not so distinguished as the other.’

    ‘Mother,’ I was surprised to hear her speak so firmly, ‘if it is a boy we will call him after his father. And it may be a girl after all.’

     I moved on after hearing this much as I did not want to eavesdrop. I have wondered who Mama meant when she said the baby would not be Grandmother’s first grandchild. I wonder if I have a cousin. Grandmother had three children, the eldest, a girl, passed away about fifteen years ago. Mama was her middle child and the youngest is my Uncle Earnest who is some ten years younger than his sister and unmarried. I wonder--but no, I won’t say it, though it does seem to be the only explanation. And from the couple of times I have met him and the fact that he is not very popular with his mother seems reason enough for speculation. Or maybe my deceased aunt had a child who never lived, and she was married too. I’ll ask mama about it one day.

     With my joyful news comes a shadow. Mama’s health has never been strong and the doctor looked a little grave on his last visit and advised that she stay here until the baby is born. I don’t think it is anything serious to worry about, but the decision is that it is better to be safe than sorry. Papa was rather vexed about the doctor’s orders as he is longing to take his wife home to Scotland, but the doctor rules here and is backed up formidably by Grandmother. And so it is doubtful I shall see you again before next spring, dear Amelia. But next summer, Lord willing, the family shall come home, complete, to dear old Rushbrook House again! Keep things ready for us!

     How is everybody in Scotland? I hope the Warde ladies don’t vex you too much! Is Rhona Warde come to them yet? Kiss your mother for me and give your little post man a big hug!

   I remain your fond friend,

Bethy.