*
Monday, 20 June 1825
My dear T—
The past two days have been madness! Mother insisted on hosting a high tea for all of Cecily’s friends and their mothers. The best china—which I had in reserve for the breakfast—had to be washed and two of the plates were broken. This meant the second-best china had to be hauled out of the attics and cleaned, and new linens—they must match the china, you understand—purchased from an already mauled budget. I find myself once again longing for a simpler life—Yorkshire still sounds like a grand plan for me.
Then I remind myself that I am betrothed to a marquess, the son of a duke, and that “simple” may never been in my future again.
But be assured: I would not change this fact for an entire world of simplicity and sheep, however I may long for a more bucolic lifestyle. Your mother has underscored my desire to be your wife by giving me respite from my personal chaos. Having high tea at Ashton House is a true delight.
Because it sounds as if even Ashton Park does not currently offer much rest for the wicked. Are your land management skills improving appropriately? Are Robert and Michael thriving or chaffing. I do find it difficult to imagine Robert as a country gentleman. Do you think his courtship with the young Miss Rowbotham will survive a month out of London? I hear that she is still a great charmer at the ongoing Society events. If he would like more information on her whereabouts, I can probably provide it. I am acquainted with her usual chaperone, Lady Eloise Surrey, with whom I have shared time and friendship on Spinster’s Row.
We are now twelve days out from the wedding. Please pray that nothing else gets broken, stained, or misplaced—and that I do not commit matricide in the process.
Ever yours,
R—
*
Wednesday, 22 June 1825
Dear Lady Rose—
Please do not put me into a position of having to rescue you from Newgate. However justified under the circumstances, matricide is still quite against the law, no matter how the magistrate may sympathize with your urge to commit it. You must refrain from such desires.
Perhaps focusing on other desires would help your cause. I can make a few suggestions, if you wish.
I am learning—as I suspect you are with the wedding plans—that some things are more about people than numbers. Land management, for instance, is far more about the tenants, their families, and their long history on the land than it is about crop rotation, production quotas, and new techniques. While these latter elements are important, understanding the nature of the community is equally vital.
Robert, I’m afraid, is not as good at that as Michael. As you suggested, Robert chaffs; Michael thrives. Although information you may have about Miss Rowbotham would be appreciated, I suspect it will arrive too late. Father has indicated that Robert and Michael will depart Friday for Wales. He and I will leave here on Saturday and return to Ashton House for one day. As much as I would enjoy your company, we will be quite busy as we then head north for Manchester. The direction for our house there is below—as I do hope you will continue to write.
Do not murder your mother,
T—
*
Saturday, 25 June 1825
Lord Newbury—
I do not yet need to be rescued. Yet. Although that particular desire grows stronger each day now that the wedding is only one week away. I have put into action your suggestion of replacing that desire with other, more pleasant ones, using our recently labyrinthine experiences as a guide. It is, however, difficult for even those not to be overshadowed by my urge to throttle the frenzied fairy whose unreasonable demands and frenetic fears that “everything will go horribly wrong and we will be shunned by Society for generations to come” shower me on a daily basis.
My father—that coward—has taken to locking his study door when he’s inside. I cannot blame him, I’m afraid, as each time he dares emerge, he is immediately barraged by demands about which he can do nothing except give me forlorn looks. He has promised me a month in Florence if I will refrain from locking my mother in the attics, which has appeared as an alternative to actual murder.
Cecily, to her credit, has been a gem and tried to keep Mother under control, but she is too young to be equipped for such a gargantuan task. Your mother has been my sole comfort during this time, since you and your father have abandoned us for the sake of maintaining the estate. Your goal of a profitable future has obvious benefits, but be assured that Her Grace is the primary reason my mother still lives.
I am sending this by messenger to Ashton House, in hopes it will reach you before you and your father depart for Manchester. I will write you there as often as I can, since your stay will obviously extend beyond the date of the wedding—a fact which has caused Mother quite a bit of consternation. That her future son-in-law will not be in attendance for the Society wedding of the season has her asking any number of unreasonable and intrusive questions about the timing of your trip.
So it is best we not see each other during your brief respite here.
And the obvious answer to your unspoken question is, “No, of course not. There are no more important concerns outside Lady Cecily’s wedding.”
I do hope that your trip back to Town has not been plagued with any of the usual travelers’ travails. Give your mother my greetings, and let her know I will be in touch as soon as I can after the wedding, and my mother’s sails are once again furled against the masts.
Dreaming of the Italian sun and more labyrinthine adventures,
