Dear Roger,—
The great event took place three weeks ago and I am just allowed to leave my bed and lie on a couch for a few hours every day—in my boudoir. Here I can wile away the time by writing letters.
It is a boy, so Francis ought to be in the seventh heaven of happiness as he now has a direct heir for the succession. Ought to be, but somehow isn’t. Since I began to get better and take notice he does not seem as exuberant as I expected. He isn’t well. I have a sort of idea he had a fainting fit in the House of Lords just when my crisis was coming on and that they kept it back from me. But I saw an allusion to it in an old Times which had somehow found its way into my sitting-room.
The infant is to be named James Francis Addington for ancestral reasons. I do not feel energetic enough to contest. I should have preferred one Christian name only—a multitude of names is so demode and must be so confusing to the recording angels who don’t recognize surnames. I wanted something a little baffling and out of the common such as Clitheroe or Passavant. Clitheroe is not the name of any relation, but I liked its sound—like the wind in the reeds, don’t you think?—and it would have been a new departure.
Little Clithy looks rather wizen as he lies asleep in his bassinette, but at his age most infants seem incredibly old and cynical, as though they were just finishing some life cycle and were peevish at beginning another.
Of course, Clitheroe’s coming has quite ruled me out of the Jubilee festivities. Suzanne Feenix has been doing all the running, and quietly pushing her husband whilst I have been unable to secure any advancement for mine, who now seems quite lacking in ambition. Suzanne, by the bye, l’on dit tres toquee of another good-looking African explorer, a rival of yours from West Africa. A pity you did not make her acquaintance—as I advised you to do—before you left. She has any amount of influence with Lord W.
How is the missionaryess? I am glad she was safely married to her missionary and withdrew herself into the interior. I feared otherwise there was going to be another entanglement: for I don’t believe in the least you were a Galahad and faithful only to my memory in the days when we played at being engaged. I don’t see why I should be specially interested in this young woman because she came from Aldermaston and her father is one of our tenants… However, when I can once more ride I’ll go over and look her people up and report on them. But I only hope you won’t turn her head by taking all this interest in her affairs. So like you! And to think you once reproached me for inconstancy!
All the same, dear Roger, I do miss you—dreadfully. Francis will keep up the grand manner and won’t tell me any cabinet secrets. My brothers and sisters don’t interest me, mother is too anxious about father’s affairs to leave him for long, and when she is here I am nervous about discussing them for fear they may want to borrow money from Francis.
I have sent Maud an invitation because she reminds me faintly of you…
Sibyl
From Mrs. Josling to Mrs. John Baines.
My darling girl
Father and me were so releaved at getting your letter ten days ago saying you had reached Unguja safe and sound and had just been married to John Baines by the Consul and at the Cathedral. It sounded quite grand being married twice, and I only hope youll be happy.
I went over to see Mrs. Baines at Tilehurst taking your letter with me but was receaved [underscored: none too graciously]. It seems John had not written to his parents to say he was married [strikeout: or even that he] but I suppose he hadent time before being so busy over his preperations for starting up country.
Well my darling we both wishes you every happiness. Your letter dident tell us much but I suppose you were too busy having to start away on a ship the next morning. We both send our humble thanks to Captain Brentham for looking after you on the voyage. Lady Silchester has had her baby—in the middle of last June. Father and me drove over last week to pay our respecs and make inquiries. His lordship himself came out to see and was nice as he always is. He’s very like his poor mother and she was always the lady and spoke as nice to her servants as to her titled friends. Well Lord Silchester rang for the nurse and baby so as we might see it. It looked to me a poor little antique thing but of course I dident say so. It’s been christened James after his Lordship’s father but they say as her Ladyship wanted some other name more romantic like. She came in from the garden as we were leaving and gave herself such airs I thought but Father says she’s a rare piece for good looks and we all ought to be grateful to her for giving an heir to the estate to keep out the Australian cousin who might have [strikeout: revvle] revolutionary ideas about farming. She ast after you a bit sarcastic like I thought. She says I hear your daughter flirted dredfully with my cousin Captain Brentham on the way out. I couldent help saying I dident believe it. My daughter I said would never be a flirt it wasnt in your nature. I felt so put out but his Lordship tried to make it come right by saying Her Ladyship musnt judge others by herself and that he quite believed me. Weve had a good hay crop and the wheat and root crops promises well. So Father’s in rare good humour and says after harvest he’s going to take us all to the sea-side Bournemouth or Southsea. Clara and Mary’s both well. They never ail as you kno. Young Marden of Overeaston is paying Clara some attention. Leastways he drops in to Sunday supper pretty often.
We all send our love and I hope with all my hart you will be happy and continu well. I shall go on being anxious about you till you come back. Praps the Primitives will give John a call after he’s done his bit of missionary work and youll be able to live in England close to us. I shant be happy till this comes to pass.
From Mrs. Baines to her son John.
Tilehurst, October 14, 1887.