Bets!

Would you believe, I have recovered the lost letter! I haven’t the least notion what happened to it in the intervening months, but today it was delivered into my College pigeonhole in a very sorry condition. I suspect it has journeyed to the West Indies and back. As you can see, there is not a wit about red trout or any other picine species, and I certainly have not gone to Newmarket without you! The letter is dreadfully old now, I believe I wrote it in late January, but I send it on to you as a conclusion to the mystery.
Your Etc.
P--

Dear Miss Langdon,

I had no notion that life in a boarding house could be so exciting. I think your neighbours sound remarkably ill bred, and I wonder that you do not remove to a suitable establishment. I cannot think that Aunt Celia would approve of your remaining in the sphere of such ill mannered persons. Perhaps you should write to her regarding it.

I have been much occupied of late with my research. The University is on break until Candlemas, and so the College is very quiet. Many of the girls went home after exams, and will not return until the beginning of the term at the start of the month. The library and my study are consequently also very quiet. I share my study with Mariah, as well as Isobel Stratton and Phoebe Eversley. Usually though, it is just Mariah and myself there. Phoebe is ill just now, so she hasn’t been in for days, and Isobel is only just returned from home and not yet much in evidence.

I am quite fagged to death today, so I will leave this letter for now. Perhaps tomorrow will bring some exciting activity to enliven it.

Yours ever,
Philippa

At Last My Dear Phillippa!

I was so delighted to finally receive your letter today. I was quite beginning to worry for I hadn’t heard from you in a positive age. Alas, though, I fear some deeply mysterious tragedy has befallen your letter. Not only was the direction barely discernable, but the letter itself is completely incomprehensible.

Unless of course, you have been putting red trout out on display and traveling to Newmarket? While I might see how the former could be true, I really can’t see you going all the way to Newmarket without me! You did promise that we should see the races together! Besides, this is not at all the season.

I have now been six weeks one family acting as their Governess. I confess I am deeply disappointed to learn that all those wonderful stories about the lovely young governess falling in love with the second son, who she marries after a series of trails and hardships is utter rubbish. With the elder son under the age of 10 and there being two girls before the next male, I am out of charity with the whole world of novels. I feel quite disillusioned.

The family could be much worse. I suppose that is damning them by faint praise, but then you don’t have to live here. The lady of the establishment is surprisingly young, pretty and foolish. She seems to understand little about raising her weans and less about educating them. There or five of ‘them’; three girls and two boys. The youngest are still the charge of a nurse. She is a more caring sole than myself. The nurse is clearly fond of infants and caudles them something fierce.

I am more fond of the eldest boy, who is a darn sight more engaging then his sister. Lilly will grow up to be a good girl and will undoubtedly be described as a lovely and dull. She is awfully dull and shows no talent or interest in even embroidery. She is just as happy mending bed sheets as creating pretty patterns. Bed sheets are the bane of my existence and the worst punishment that Mother could have devised.

Thomas is active and engaging and wholly spoiled. Particularly by his rather doting father. I have yet to figure out how to keep control of such a toe-rag. He is both amusing and trying.

While I really have only to care for three of the children, Anna is the younger sister in my charge most days, I find the thing exhausting. I have never been so tired in my life. I also feel as interested in this activity as I did when I was under Miss Ramstickle ‘tutelage’.

Well, my dear, I really must get some sleep. I hope you are enjoying your fine education. Please tell me again of all your doings, as I clearly missed them the first time around.

Yours affectionately;

Elizabette