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

My dear 'Cesca,

I cannot convey to you the transports to which I was elevated this afternoon when I discovered your letter in the post. What a mysteriously lumpy package it was, and what curiosity it aroused in my breast! Imagine my beating heart as I tore open the top! For several moments I was afraid it should stop entirely-my heart, that is- and I should be obliged to appeal to Mssrs. Campbell and Whosoeverelseitwas to galvanize me, after which experience I fear I should have never been the same again.

Be that as it may, however, I did eventually overcome my trembling fingers and discover the contents of the envelope. How delightful! I have pinned your lovely flower onto my reticule and shall proudly display it tomorrow to the inhabitants of my cold cell.

Do not be fooled by my little fancy, 'Cesca; I speak figuratively, for of course writing advertisements for ladies' circulating journals and languishing in penal facilities are two quite different things. However I must confess that there are times when it wearies me to be trapped in my library pondering the maximum number of times that the phrase "flawless complexion" can be used in one small box of text before the reader will begin to tire of it and move on to an article about how to delicately withdraw from an engagement without appearing rude. Particularly inasmuch as the weather continues to improve and I frequently long to perambulate about the neighbourhood. What a pity that imminent poverty compels me to be so unladylike as to earn a living, even in so discreet a fashion.

I must trust in your everpresent generosity to forgive me for going on in this fashion about my woes, 'Cesca. Don't believe a word of them, I pray you. And do grace me with a note in return, particularly if you know any words that have a meaning similar to "complexion".

A thousand regards, as well as my fondest wishes for you to stop frittering away your time in the wilds of who-knows-where and convey yourself instantly to my side, coupled finally with my assurances that I remain,

yours,
annika fox

A Very Happy Easter to You, Dearest Cousin!

The most delightful of circumstances has lead to my complete freedom for nearly two whole weeks! Well, perhaps that is taking things a trifle too far, it is after all not precisely delightful that the Family has been quarantined with a fever that has been raging through the city. Though, I am secretly quite pleased that I am not expected to stay as a sick-room nurse. In fact their Nurse is a rather protective soul and quite dislikes my intrusion upon the Family. I suspect she is part of the reason that I am to be kept away until all danger has passed!

The result is that I have had time to myself! A true novelty! I have spent much of the time enjoying the surprisingly lovely weather; it has been quite warm and sunny of late. I have now been able to acquaint myself with much the town and do a bit of shopping.

This past weekend, being Easter, I was a dutiful Christian and attended Easter Service. I went with several of the fellows from the boarding house. Afterwards well all walked down to Glasgow Green, along the Clyde river, before returning for Mrs Murphy’s Easter dinner. It turned out to be a lovely way to pass the day.

I quite enjoyed talking with Professor Campbell and Mr James McDonald, who got into a lively debate about the merits and possibilities surrounding ‘galvanisation’. Professor Campbell does not approve of this attempt to animate the dead by means of electric current. He believes that it is an unnatural practice that our Lord certainly disproves of. However, James thinks it is an important scientific discovery and could lead to great advancements in the area of Anatomy. I confess myself morbidly curious to see such an experiment! Though, I suppose it must be rather gruesome to watch.

Ronald Fergus mused about the propriety of using the dead for scientific research, when clearly they had no say in the matter. It was felt, though, that those sentenced to death for crimes against society were at least now being of use. It was an interesting discussion to be sure! However, we did turn to lighter topics of machines and engines when Juliana expressed her distaste for subject matter. I never knew that steam engines could be so interesting! Nor so terribly important!

James has promised to show me around Glasgow University this week. Since the students are on break, he doesn’t think it will be a problem to sneak me into some of the labs and the library. I am very excited!

As always I hope your studies are going well and that you are having any number of wild adventures!

Your most affectionate,

Elizabette

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

Dear Philippa,

I do rather like the notion of heading off on fantastic adventures. Perhaps I ought to commence gathering gear and checking passage to the Wilds of North America!

In the mean time, I must tell you of the Ramstickles. You see, Mr Ramstickle is a rather dominating sort of character; jovial at first glance, but not so pleasant under the surface. I gather that he likes keeping his sister under thumb. His lady is also one to be avoided. She has a sort of preachy air about her. Leah actually heard Mrs Ramstickle tearing a strip off Joan – that is Miss Ramstickle’s Christian name. Oh dear, I know it is nearly impossible to believe, but I almost feel sorry for the woman. She is clearly unhappy to be in the same house with her brother and his wife, who in return think the Stick is sludge dredged up from the Clyde.

The fact that Mrs Ramstickle feels Joan’s instruction inferior is everyday clear. Oh my, what an awkward turn of phrase, I fear that my mind and my pen are not keeping pace and I am trying ever so hard not to make a complete botch of this letter. I have already scratched up four pieces of paper addressing a letter home and another two trying to start this missive. You see, there was some terrible noise coming from below. I thought at first that one of the Matherson’s had dropped a table or such; my first leaf of paper as I jumped nearly out of my chair. I had thought I was quite alone this afternoon, which incidentally I had off; my room is looking much better for the time too! Anyway, as I started over there came another series of sounds, too much like a row of impressive proportions. I accidentally knocked over a bottle of ink on my way to investigate. Indeed, you may be correct in assessing that I am not suited to delicate apparatuses.

I was attempting to be very stealthy coming down the stair, but to no avail. I tripped just as I reached the landing, stubbing a toe and causing my own thunderous sounds. The noise caught the attention of those in the room. A short and very disagreeable man, with a thick common accent and greasy moustache pocked his head out the door and promptly shouted at me for causing such a racket. Of all the nerve, when clearly he was being much louder than me.

All the training I have had in manners and respect was forgotten. I scowled at the man, desperately trying to think of some cutting comment. All the time I could feel my face flushing red, not with embarrassment, but with anger. Not of course that anyone would know. After cursing me roundly for interrupting, loud man then had the audacity to accuse me of being a little sneak! I was quite enraged by this point. It is one thing to imply that my timing was poor, but to outright accuse a lady of sneaking like a common criminal! Well!

My words were neither brilliant nor well polished, but I did manage to express my displeasure at his choice of words, the tone in which they were spoken and the volume of voice he had used. Which I further pointed out, was the reason for my descending the stair. At this point I demanded to know what was happening, on threat of going to the landlady.

“None of your business Miss! Naught but a wee talk with my daughter,” he replied curtly and turned back into the room.

Of course there was nothing else to be done. He kept the volume down and I returned to my rooms puzzled. For I was quite certain that Frank had mentioned his parents were deceased. But I suppose I could have been wrong. Perhaps it was Mr McDonald or Mr Fergus. I shall try to subtly ask Julianna later. I wonder how one goes about subtly asking very personal and pertinent questions?

Oh yes, I had quite forgotten. With Trongate Place full of its owners and their regular servants, we girls have found ourselves with a couple of afternoons off a week. This will not last long for we are shortly to be placed with families for ‘practical training’. They call it thus so we need not earn a wage! I am not certain how well I will cope with my weans to be. I have not taken to Mrs Ramstickle’s own three monstrous children. Time will tell, I suppose.

Yours ever affectionately,

Cousin Elizabette