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.

Dear Bethy, -Letter Two-

Dear Bethy,

 I was so glad to receive your lovely letter after so long a silence. Little Davie rushed in with your letter this morning after running an errand for me to the post office. ‘English mail, Me-me, you got English mail!’ He is so cute when excited! You would hardly recognize him now, he has grown so; he is almost six and mother always has to pull out his tucks and refit hand me downs from his older brothers as he grows. I read your letter to him for he is fascinated by words, books, and messages from places far away, I call him my little postman!

 This evening I read your letter aloud again to everyone about the fire, tis still chill of an evening up here on the boarders though you must be basking in the warmth of spring. Everyone enjoyed hearing again from you, Mother is so glad that ‘our dear Miss Reid’ has not forgotten us. They all send warm greetings and good wishes.

 I have been longing to talk you again and have several times begun letters never sent; I did not know how my poor friendship would be received beside all the brilliant young ladies of London. In truth I was almost afraid you would be ashamed of a poor country lass like me. The few letters I received from you during the first years said very little and I have missed your lively companionship. I know there are many things in London to distract and occupy so forgive me if I reproach you. But life seems so dull without your light step coming up the path any minute of the day with any excuse to pass the day with me.

 Life is harder now that Father has passed away too, and I have more responsibilities daily with the children growing up and bread to earn. Coinneach works as the local blacksmith and dose odd jobs for the mayor. He is highly esteemed in the village and is well on his way to being promoted, already he exercise the mayors horses daily. He bids me send his respects to ‘Miss Zinnia’ from his carving in the corner beside the hearth. He always had a great regard for you, you know Bethy, and he was always the only person you would allow to call you by your given name. Do you still have a great dislike for it, or have you become accustomed to being addressed as Miss Zinnia, I noticed you signed yourself by it in your letter...

 I sew for the Rushbrook ladies these days, and they pay fairly. Since the family have taken our place in society they hardly know how to treat us now we are beneath them in wealth and station, so they avoid us. But that does not trouble us they were never close friends, remember how we used to tease them for their airs and graces and stalk them on their walks, imitating their arched necks and mincing steps! What cheeky little girls we were, I believe I was not a good influence upon your well-bred mind!

 You ask about the Rushbrook House tenants; you will be surprised and interested perhaps to hear that Rev. Warde resides there at present. As you may know, since Father died two years ago Rev. Warde has taken over the duties in the parish and perhaps as a consequence of his new station, or for other reasons of his own, he runs a larger household, when your old house was vacated he immediately obtained tenancy. I must express my surprise that you do not already know of the arrangement, and ask with some trepidation, but with the right of our past close intimacy, how your relationship stands at present with your father and new mother? I know you must have seen very little of them in the past few years and things must be different with everything in your life changing at the same time as your father marrying, but I always knew you to be close to your father and envied your intimate, easy relationship with him. Forgive me my nosiness dear Bethy, I always was a ‘fuss pot’ as Davie says, and worry you endlessly with my interrogations and lectures. Do I read too much between the lines?

 Now I come to the Miss Warde you asked about. She is certainly not any of Rev Warde’s daughters, but may very possibly be his young orphaned niece who has come up to Scotland most summers in the last few years. Her name is Rhona Warde and a very quiet and modest girl though very pretty in a dainty way. I have met her several times but only once conversed with her in more than the language of common courtesy. She speaks well and seems to possess a great deal of sense and a heartfelt gratitude towards her Uncle who is her sole guardian and has done everything towards her comfort. He paid her way through boarding school and has found her a good position as companion to a young lady of good breeding and much wealth; the family is named Birkley, I believe. Perhaps, if we speak of the same Miss Warde, you have meet with or heard of the family in Bristol.

  Oh, my dear friend, I with you would come home to Rushbrook  The thought makes me suddenly want to change things back to as they were when we were carefree girls full of fun and laughter. I almost feel as if it is an impertinence to write to you so freely now that you are a great heiress, but I know you will forgive any indelicacy on my part if you are still the same dear Bethy I grew up with.

For I remain your same faithful,

Amelia

Letter One

Dear Amelia,

  I can imagine you surprise as you unfold this letter from one who has neglected you so long. Do forgive me, my life and the changes in it have taken all of my attention, but things are settling and I feel the urge to revive old friendships. Our paths have parted, our lives have taken new turnings and old friend are left to their own roads. I can hardly believe it has been all of three years since I last saw your face, so much has changed in our lives since we were young girls galloping over the moors on those wild ponies of your brothers!

  How are you and all your family, and all the dear people of Rushbrook? Who takes Rushbrook House these days? I would inquire of Papa but I do not like to trouble him with trivial enquiries. I miss the old house, perhaps we shall come home one day soon, for that place of my childhood shall always be ‘home’ to me. But it is uncertain if I shall come soon, my step-mothers health requires that we stay down here by the sea, and I do not feel it would be proper of me to ask leave to come myself, I feel I am needed here for the time.

   Do you remember the times when we used to wonder and dream of being grown women, and what the world would be like? It is strange to think I will be eighteen in a few short months, but at the same time I feel like saying ‘at last’! Two years at Miss Hoyston’s Seminary, two long years of stifling London life and now I am glad to announce, it is over! Papa and Mama (as I call her now) were abroad during the years I was in school so I hardly got to know my new mother but for short visits during holidays. We are now residing for the time in Bristol with my Uncle Thomas‘s family. He owns a chocolate factory which must be the best kind of factory! He dose good business declaring that ‘chocolate will be the making of this town!’  

   We have been here ever since I finished at Miss Hoyston’s before Christmas. Mama speaks of a visit to her mother in a month or two in the county of --- . I have never met any relatives of Mother’s yet, though I have heard the family name in town often, they seem not to want to know me. Perhaps they think her marriage to Papa beneath the family’s importance. But I shall conclude nothing until I meet ‘Grandmama’ for myself, then I shall know how things stand.

   But, I must admit, I do have a motive in renewing my correspondence with you. I wish to ask you about a certain family name. Over a week ago while I was walking home from the pump room with my cousin, Louise, I had a strange encounter with the prettiest little thing! We had been stopped just outside by some of Louise’s friends and while they chatted and giggled I stood aloof waiting for they had no interest in me and I did not care to join in with their gossip. As I stood there I felt a touch on my arm and turning I looked into a frightened but beautiful face. She was perhaps my own age, slim and petite and with large brown doe eyes which widened with apprehension at my reaction to her.

 ‘My Lady, please, forgive me, I would not accost you but for the most desperate of reasons!’  Her voice quivered as she explained somewhat nervously she had lost her party and being new to the town requested directions to the post office where she was sure she would find them. I gave them gladly and offered to go with her there myself for it did not seem right to let such a pretty delicate thing walk alone in the street. But she absolutely refused and began to walk quickly away, but not before one of the young ladies from Louise’s crowd addressed her: ‘Why my dear girl! Why where are you going off to on your own self?’ The ‘dear girl’ seemed confused, and quickly said while avoiding my gaze, ‘I…I’m not alone indeed, my party is just ahead indeed I must join them, excuse me.’ And she hurried away and disappeared in the crowd.

  Was that not strange, it aroused suspicions in my mind, but had she been any other girl, less innocent and had looked less scared I would dismiss her from my mind. But I saw her again only today, and that decided my letter to you. I saw her in the park speaking to a young man. As I walked past her she noticed me and blushed rosy and averted her eyes looking confused. Now if that blush was not for the lie she either told me or Louise’s friend the other day, what was if for? Speaking to a young man alone in the park? Her whole manner seems too modest for her actions.

  I had asked Louise’s fried who she was, she told me she was a Miss Warde who she had meet at a ball the preceding night and new hardly more about her. You must recognize the name, Amelia, were not our neighbours? Do they still live in the area? I do not like to enquire about here after her for that is sure to arouse unwonted curiosity. Please write me all you can of the family. As you can see my curiosity about people I do not know is as alive as ever!

  Give my regards to your mother; I hope she is well and active.

I am yours faithfully,

Zinnia Reid  -- ‘Bethy’