My Dearest Annika

What a strange town Glasgow is. The locals, for some inexplicable reason have taken to shouting and singing in a most off key fashion! It is a horrendous fouling of the air. Though I suppose it is unfair of me to complain of the quality of music, considering my own abilities. However, it would not be nearly so bad if either they sang loudly and beautifully or softly and inexperienced.

The weather of late has been grey and wet. The type of wet that coats the world in water, like clouds hanging too low. It is very drab. It also makes the streets a positive nightmare to navigate.

Happily today was a rare sunny day, dry too! I was most delighted that this fine weather coincided with my day off. How perfectly splendid! To make this day even better, I was able to go out on an adventure.

It is near the end of term here for most of the University students. In all the confusion of comings and goings I was able to sit in on an anatomy lecture! It was most thrilling to walk the halls of the University, to peer covertly into offices and lecture theatres and to explore the main anatomy lab. Dead bodies are rather fascinating to look at. And just think, someday you too will be a corpse.

James McDonald presented me as either an aspiring undergraduate to the world of education or his sister. By this means I was effectively smuggled into the sacred Halls of Science. The lecture was about the functioning of the heart, but alas, there was no galvanisation of the corpse. Just a regular dissecting of the body, which was all new and exciting for me. James and his friends thought my eagerness a trifle amusing and spent the afternoon teasing me for it. After the lecture we had a grand time wandering about the campus grounds.

Sean Fraser was particularly entertaining. He is from the west coast of Scotland and has such amusing phrases. Not that I will venture to share many of them with my mother! She would not be impressed. But he had me in stitches for much of the time. It was lovely to spend a day surrounded by people my own age and standing!

Have you had any further contact with Edgar? I do hope you have managed to avoid another such incident! Though, I don’t suppose anyone would have suspected Mr Strongwin’s brother-in-law to be such a noodle.

I am sincerely looking forward to this summer season. Even to returning home to my family, though I am not sure I will like living at home nearly so much as the freedom of being on ones own. There is a certain liberty to the current set up – not much, but enough to make this past year tolerable.

I fear I must send this off now. I have an early start on the morrow.

With deepest affection;

Elizabette

Dearest Pippa

The governing of young children is not to my tastes! I have come to the inevitable conclusion that I do not like the early hours, the unsociable nature of the servants, the horrid behaviour of the weans or the constant dissatisfaction of a mistress.

There I feel much better!

I have had such a busy month doing nothing but work! The weather has been getting progressively worse, which I maintain is partly to blame for the terrible behaviour I am forced to deal with every day. To begin with the weather after Easter was lovely and warm. Thus the children were filled with lively spirits and the great desire to be outdoors playing. A trial for ones patience when it comes to trying to teach them their lessons. But the subsequent rains have been far worse, for now the weather is too horrible to go out and everyone is feeling very restless.

Hope seems so far removed from my present state I am beginning to doubt its existence. Your letter, however, has been a great salve to my spirits. And indeed I do try to remember that I have only a month or so before I go to my Aunt in Edinburgh. I really am trying to hold on dearly to that thought of freedom in the meantime.

Alas, I fear that this also means I have little of interest to convey to you my dear cousin. I have not even had the opportunity to sneak illicitly into the University. In fact, beyond falling exhausted into my bed every evening I have indeed done little and see no one.

I shall apologise now for my poor correspondence and hope for your forgiveness. I will sincerely endeavour to do better next time.

Yours in exhausted affection;

Bits

Dear Philippa,

I have enclosed a letter from our Francesca with this missive, which I trust you will be pleased to peruse, not only for the interest which any communication from her must arouse, but also because I fear she has become much plagued by Auntishness, a condition which your commonsense doctoring will surely help to correct.

Though for my own part, I dare say that being a Vicar's Wife would be quite a suitable position for which to apply. What a pity it is that one cannot do so, as a talented young man wishing to become an attorney might. I cannot say that I feel any great amount of devotion to the works of the Lord, but perhaps a rather old and stupid Vicar wouldn't notice. Nor, I suppose, would a young and frivolous one who is only a Vicar because his father insisted and who might appreciate a lively wife who knew 5 or 6 synonyms for "complexion", even if she were of very little earthly good in all other respects. Now that I think on it, I do believe I might be of assistance in the writing of sermons.

It has been a rather dreary Sunday, and I must say that I shall be glad to see the morrow, despite the fact that it means I must perfect a description of Bramble Water and its marvels that shall satisfy the publisher of The Lady's Garden of Youth & Apothecary. Perhaps I shall suggest that evidence from Anglo-Saxon wills would indicate that Anglo-Saxon ladies have enjoyed its Rejuvenating Effects since Time Immorial. My publisher will no doubt be displeased with this, as he has informed me in highly pompous tones that Ladies must not be confused with scientific reasons (Science, in this case, being any reason that he hasn't thought of himself). He would certainly be surprised to find that I am a female, though clearly, in my understanding, however rudimentary, of Science, I am no Lady. I do find that I enjoy styling my handwriting after my late uncle, who was of a manly and extremely uncongenial disposition, in my correspondance with Mr. Minsterprude.

I trust that your studies continue well, and that I shall see you before many more weeks have passed. I must go, but if you wish you may ask Elizabette about the little episode which occurred between me and Mr. Strongwin's brother-in-law, for it is a rather droll tale and I told her about it in my last letter.

Yours,
Annika Fox

Dear Franca,

How pleased I am to hear that you are well. I was most gratified to receive a communication from our Miss Fox on Thursday last, and she had the foresight to include the letter that you sent to her, knowing as she did how I longed to hear of how you are faring.

I am very sorry to hear that you have been given books of sermons to read! How dull and good they must make one. I beseech you not to become too pious and to strenuously resist the efforts of your kind uncle in making of you a Vicar’s Wife. While I am sure this is a valuable and happy occupation (and I hold Mrs Campbell, your Aunt, in great affection) I do not think it at all the thing for you! Unless, perhaps your Vicar was of unusually lively spirits? and then there are all the advantages of being established in a home of ones own. So perhaps afterall, it would not be too dreadful. Only I still cannot wish it for you!

I beg you not to refine too much on the impoliteness of Mrs. Holywell’s behaviour. She is an ill-bred woman and not quite the thing I fancy. However, I believe that she means well, and is very generous with her time in the parish. It must be in regard to this devotion to the church that Mrs. Campbell would consider her influence beneficial, as I cannot conceive that she would wish you to take example from her behaviour otherwise. Mrs Campbell is herself a far better pattern to mold oneself on.

Do not fret Franca! Consider always that you cannot paint worse than Elizabette dances!

Mrs. Burrows is quite right and well do you know it. It would be a shocking affair for you to come out of blacks before the mid June. Once everyone has gone into the country for the summer it will be an easier matter to put them off and rejoin society. Such a relief it will be to you not to be confined to the very elevating company provided by Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.

I have nought of interest to relate to you of my own life. I spend, as ever, most of my hours in my study at Lennox. With increasing regularity I break in the afternoon to take tea with Thom Seyton at Beaufort College, occasionally with Mariah or Caroline Price, and this is the bright spot in the day. Which isn’t to suggest that I do not like work, for I enjoy it vastly, only one cannot spend all ones time reading Anglo-Saxon wills.

I would you convey my greetings to the Vicar and Mrs. Campbell. Please also look for a package to follow this missive. I shall endeavour to send you some more entertaining reading than Fordyces’ sermons.

Yours always and with great affection,
Philippa

My dearest Annika,

I am delighted to hear of your delight as I took delight in making those rosettes!! It was something to occupy me during my solitude. As for your request for words that mean “complexion”, I am quite at a loss. I thought on it for a full evening while I was supposed to be reading a book of sermons. I suppose the book in my hand was not suitable to inspire.

Today I called on Mr. and Mrs. James Holywell at their home just outside the village. They are quite the pair! Mrs. Holywell was quite a dour woman, but her husband has quite the modish hairstyle and I think that we shall get along splendidly. Their house is quite large, but the grounds are small (I am lead to believe they own large tracts of land not connected to the estate itself, however), the parlour had a lovely prospect of the river, and was scented with fresh-cut flowers, but the passages were cramped, and the entrance to the house is not nearly as grand as we have seen. Aunt has been keen to promote their introduction, and I suspect further ‘improvements’ to my character using their influence are part of her plans. I shall keep you posted.

Some time has past since I began this letter, but I shant waste the paper. I have not received so much as a calling card back from the Holywells yet and am quite put out. If I am to make the effort of having Mary-Ellen lay out all my favourite morning gowns so that I may chuse the right one, having Mary-Ellen dress my hair three different ways to find the best one, and trimming and re-trimming a bonnet, and then a cap, and then the bonnet again all myself, so that it might make the mourning jewelry look less dour, the least they could do would be to send me a card!

I shall now explain why this letter is so disjointed. An additional part of Aunts ‘improvements’ on me are to encourage me to visit and feed the poor. I believe that this is an idea of hers to prevent me from conversing with those of my own age and rank, but, on the whole, I suppose I do not mind charitable works. I go quite often these days now that the weather is fair, and sunny. To be quite honest, I do not think they are happy to see me quite so often but it allows me to leave the house for quite some time.

As usual, my drawing and painting are coming along not at all. I wish you were here to tell me that I am silly, and to goad me into actually completing a project.

Mrs. Burrows insists that I remain in mourning for the remainder of the season so I doubt that I will be able to contrive to join you at least until then. She continues to care for me a great deal more since Mother passed, but Mary-Ellen told me last week that at my age, most girls have outgrown their governesses. I still feel I have much to learn from Mrs. Burrows, however, and I feel that she has taken on quite a great deal more than a governess normally would.

I wish I could be in two places at once, dearest Annika, but until then my letters must suffice. In the mean time, do send my best wishes to everyone you meet. Is there a chance you could send me a copy of your latest edition? I am dying to read it.

Yours etc.
Chessa

Dearest Elizabette,

I do apologise for my protracted silence. I find that time will insist on passing as though it had nothing better to occupy itself with, and this rather unfortunate inclination is causing my days to turn with remarkable celerity. I shall try to do better in future, but can make no positive assurances that this will be successful. There is not a great deal of entertaining news to recount, but I shall do my best to relate what little there is, that it might enliven your morning.

Wednesday of Holy Week I attended High Table at St. Perpetua College at the invitation of Dr. Ribble, who - I am sure - issued his flattering missive at the instigation of Dr. Montrose; I accepted gracefully as though not fully cognizant of my unpreparedness. Dr. Ribble, late of St. Perpetua but recently advanced to fellowship at All Saints, reads mediaeval history and is thoroughly alarming on the subject of Catholic observance. However, having made his acquaintance I found him kind, though voluble - a trait I became thankful for. This being an Out Week on account of exams and Easter, there were no undergraduates to dine, which meant no tables to be, er, higher than - and so our meal was in the Fellows Dining Room instead of the Hall. I was glad of this situation - I am no accomplished historian and the circumstance of having to converse on difficult topics with lofty minds over the hubble-bubble of an undergraduate Mess did not strike me as a happy one. In the event, it was a rather elegant affair. Very Gentlemen’s Club, I fancy.

Dr. Ribble ushered me into the Fellows Lounge for sherry, and introduced me to the others in attendance. Eldest and longest of St. Perpetua was Dr. Elgin (professing mathematics I believe, and strongly resembling a dyspeptic bat), followed by Dr. Morton (the lesser in age though not in consequence), and Dr. and Mrs. Myrk. Both Drs. Morton and Myrk are fellow historians and rather well known. Dr. Morton is of Christ’s College and is really very important; he has written quantities of learned texts on a variety of ancient texts, and is beginning to look as though made of parchment himself. Dr. Myrk was on loan from Sidney University this term and enjoying his penultimate evening at here at his adopted College before returning there (Sidney). He and his wife are delightful people and just the sort that one wishes to invite to ones table for comfortable assurance that they shall entertain everyone equally without causing offence. They (Drs. Morton and Myrk) are old acquaintances and gabbled throughout the meal on a variety of interesting topics, not one of which I could have contributed to. But, I get ahead of myself.

I am afraid that I was not punctual, having managed to forget my gown and have to run back for it. This meant that I had only just been given my sherry, when Dr. Elgin rose and invited us to go into dinner. He sailed out of the room, and the rest followed after some confusion over what I was to do with my barely touched glass. (It was resolved that I ought to bring it with me so as not to waste good sherry.)

More confusion occurred in the Dining Room, as the staff had neglected to set the correct number of places. Dr. Myrk gallantly gave his place up to me, and eventually all was settled and the Latin Grace said. This, Dr. Elgin explained as we began the 1st remove ( prawns on bitter greens with fruit coulis accompanied by a nice White), would be a very informal meal, as it was a buffet and we would be required to serve ourselves. As I know you are a culinary minded person, I stored up the dinner in mind. The main was lamb and mint with a ragout, long beans, and herbed potatoes accompanied a rather delicious Red. The sweet/cheese was a lemon custard tart with strawberries or a selection of fine French cheeses. Naturally, I did my best to suppress my disappointment with the casual fare. The conversation, as mentioned above, was as vastly entertaining as it was beyond me. However, I endeavoured to look intelligent and talked with Dr. Ribble, was seated on my left, who never seemed short of things to relate no matter how trivial they might be.

After the sweet we removed again to the Lounge (in the wake of Dr. Elgin), where we settled down to port (or coffee) and fruit. The conversation degenerated, and ranged over such divers topics as a debate over which kirche were the most difficult to gain access to in Bavaria, the relative merits and artistic contrivances offered by the kirche in question, a disinclination on the part of the Russians to show codices to the Greeks and vice versa that frequently moved into the realm of outright obstruction, and(on a different subject entirely), the likelihood of getting the Patriarch to write one letters of introduction for the purposes of admittance to manuscripts housed in Eastern monasteries.

Once these learned gentlemen had worn themselves out on these topics the company broke up and I took my leave. Dr. Ribble was kind enough to accompany me part of the way back to Lennox regaling me all the while with such fascinating and amusing anecdotes as he had acquired in his study of liturgiology. I was utterly shattered by the time I found myself safely in my rooms again.

I cannot think of any other amusements that I have had the pleasure of in these past weeks. Today I came in for my year review, which was not at all amusing, though it is at least an event. It was a tedious though brief affair – I shan’t elucidate.

I hope that you are keeping well, Bitsy. You must tell me how your excursion into the secret places of Glasgow University went. It sounds most exciting.

Yours &c,
Philippa Charlotte