Ladies Write Letters
Meredith's Tender Awakening 5:1
Previously the Marquess of Davenport considered what he wanted for his life, going forward
My Dearest Ariadne
We may not discuss why I only write rather than pay a visit. Suffice it to say we are separated, like quills of dandelion fluff. One moment attached to the narrow social sphere of our London homes, the next becoming scattered by the winds of fate. You are blown to your uncle in Hampshire, while I’m buffeted on the breeze to Bath.
Still avoiding mention of what led us to this change of circumstance, I apply myself to correspondence with you, my dear friend, as frankly as if you were my diary. I anticipate having a wealth of thoughts and impressions of this fair city to record. Maybe even more regarding those who visit, like my aunt and me, taking the restorative waters and enjoying its sociable aspect.
Our journey was long, and tedious in parts, but the countryside was striking and very changeable. London has its charms (although not in its outer reaches) but the fields and rivers beyond offered botany and wildlife in a riot of colours.
I had been unaware of living somewhere so flat until the latter part of our journey. After stopping for lunch and a change of horses, the countryside altered, beginning with rolling hills, which later became so steep that we were forced to climb down from the carriage and walk before some of them. The driver then applied a shoe-like device under the wheels to slow the carriage’s steep descent, but there were times the horses seemed quite alarmed by the weight of the carriage pressing behind them.
It was near dark when we reached Bath, which denied me what I hear is an impressive vista of the town. What I can remark is that many fashionably dressed men and women were still about the streets when we reached the home of the Bairstowes, Aunt Cecily’s cousins by marriage.
Tomorrow my aunt and I will call on some of her friends, and perambulate the Sydney gardens, which I’ve heard are beautiful. Sending news that all is well will show me your spirit is not crushed by recent developments.
Yours affectionately ~ Mere
**
There! That should satisfy Aunt Cecily, who she knew would read her letter before a servant took it to be posted, and hopefully, it would cheer poor Ariadne.
Meredith had not thought of her friend as having the gumption, the daring to try to elope, and she keenly felt the pang of not being able to talk it through with her friend. Since their childhood they had shared their hopes and dreams, sharing secrets as easily as the sweet biscuits the cook made for them. But not all Ariadne’s secrets, it transpired, and Meredith chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.
[To be continued …]
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