June 25th 1863
Dear Miss Rochdale,
Thank you for making me so welcome in your London home & for celebrating so generously both our engagement & Arthur’s exciting promotion. I will do my best to answer the several warm & sincere questions in your letter in as unguarded a fashion, as I feel you have invited me to express my genuine feelings instead of merely clinging to the surface of things.
I hardly know how to respond to the request to think of you as a future sister, when you are like a mother to Arthur & Miss Cecilia Rochdale, & such a help to Sir George Rochdale in his political work. I feel as a child might next to you, although we are so close in age! Yet I have longed for an older sister all my life & cannot imagine a kinder, more certain presence than yours. I will look to you for help in how best to be a good sister & daughter to the family when that happy day arrives.
You ask me to forgive your father for those awkward early meetings, but I do understand why he might have been reluctant to embrace me as a daughter. Though my family has wealth & recent prominence, we lack the standing of your family, which has been on its estate for many years. I know, though, that my family’s good fortune over the last several generations can only profit our marriage & contribute to Arthur’s future, especially if he is to enter politics one day, as he dreams. Sir George has been most gracious in our most recent encounters, which makes both Arthur & me very happy. I do so wish to live up to your family’s worthy expectations.
As for our youth, it is true that Arthur & I have much to learn of the world & wish to marry when Arthur is younger than his father would have liked. But more than a year has passed now since we met & we have sustained our feelings through correspondence & occasional meetings over a long winter. This season has only confirmed our love for each other. We are determined, too, & both made stronger through the blows that life has dealt—brought closer through our shared grief over the loss of loved ones. Arthur thinks to build his position now he has been called to the bar & make connections that will secure our prospects & I will remain content with a year-long engagement while I plan for our future together. My mother & father are most happy with the match; their sole sadness is that they will lose their only remaining child when she marries.
We will meet again on Saturday at the Harrises’, which Arthur tells me you are attending, & I also look forward to seeing your family at the Royal Regatta. Arthur says we must cheer from Henley Bridge for Tom Lawler, if he does well enough in the qualifying races!
With my warm best wishes,
Miss Emily Reid
July 14th 1863
Dear Miss Rochdale,
It was delightful to speak with you at the regatta & to meet Miss Cecilia Rochdale properly. How her beauty & animation will impress everyone when she is introduced to society! The memory of the day at Henley is now a perfect little gem that I will take from its cushion in years to come, polishing it carefully each time. The shouts of excitement as boats flew down the river, the tangy strawberries in their wee baskets, the sun lodging in the sky as if the day might refuse to end … What joy!
I was most pleased, too, that Sir George looked kindly on me. When you confided his great change with the loss of Lady Rochdale, I think he became real to me for the first time & I felt I could understand him more truly—not be quite so scared of him. I do not like to hear of the sorrows of others, but I do believe it makes me a better person to know that I am not the only one to have suffered in this way.
Are you happy at the prospect of returning to Herdley? Or is the thought of preparing the household for such journeys daunting? I know I would find it so!
With my warm best wishes,
Miss Emily Reid
August 10th 1863
Dear Miss Rochdale,
It was with great happiness that I received your most recent letter & heard of your preparations for the opening of the grouse season. The break from Parliament must be scarcely a holiday for you; I hardly know how you act as hostess for Sir George’s country parties, or how you help organise his demanding life. I hope Arthur is carrying some of the burden for you while there, though from the mischief in his letters I suspect he is more hindrance than help!
I am so pleased that you would like to have Mother & I to stay with you when, as you say, “the hordes are gone”. How often Arthur has spoken of Hierde House & how many times I have imagined myself there with him. My life is very fortunate, I know, but I do so miss the sweetness of country air & the true green of trees unblackened by London’s dreadful smoke. It is a great pity that Arthur will again be busy in London by then, but he is already planning walks for us around Herdley & I rest in the knowledge you will be the best of companions.
With my warm best wishes,
Miss Emily Reid
Dear Beatrice,
I have spoken with Mother & we will be most grateful to stay with you early in November. Father is already wondering how he will manage without “my girls”, as he calls us. No doubt Mrs Bolton will keep him nicely fed with her famous calf’s head pie!
We anticipate confirming dates with you with great pleasure.
My warm best wishes,
Emily
October 20th 1863
Dear Beatrice,
Yes, November 3rd suits us perfectly! Thank you for corresponding with Mother about this. She tells me that everything is now arranged, with a carriage to meet us at the railway station & provision for Millie & Ann to stay in the servants’ quarters. (How do you organise things so easily? Or is it just seeming ease? I do look forward to learning a little of such skills in your company.)
Father has settled on the Almsford estate that I mentioned, in Warwickshire. It has a house on it already & several hundred acres attached. Mother calls the house “a wee dear” & says it is quite adequate for their purposes as a retreat from the Great Wen, but Father has schemes for rebuilding—a “grand new mansion”, he says—one day, when he is not quite so busy.
I am grateful for your continuing correspondence when your house is so full of activity. Your regular missives spark my intelligence & brighten my days, which are otherwise occupied with the tedium of needlework, drawing … Miss Roberts says I must polish my conversation & social graces for the wedding & marriage, which makes me impatient. And all Mam will say is, “You must listen to your governess!” At least Miss Roberts allows me to practise singing & piano—I harry her for the occasional dance around the schoolroom, which makes her grumpy, or for discussion on the affairs of the nation, which she ignores! Sometimes Mam & I receive or make visits, but I do tend to dream of my fiancé in the midst of it all. Fortunately Arthur is often with us in the evenings. He says Morrison is keeping him very occupied at chambers & I see how all he must learn at court often weighs on him. How happy I will be to find employment as his wife in the years to come, to help ease his worries & create a calming haven to which he can return each day.
It will not be long now until Mother & I are in your haven. I am so very excited!
With kind regards,
Emily
November 22nd 1863
Dear Beatrice,
How to thank you for such a wonderful time at Hierde House! I was delighted to see the many places I had only previously imagined through Arthur’s fond words: your dignified yet welcoming home; Hierde Farm, with the redoubtable Old Susan (how I loved her tales of naughty young Arthur); quaint Herdley & its busy market; the quiet comfort of Arthur’s elm thicket. And then climbing to the wondrous Naze &, beyond, the top of the world—I think you will understand what I mean when I say how completely at peace I felt with grass below, sky above & you, dear Beatrice, next to me.
It was only your steadiness that kept me beside you with the arrival of such important guests on our final weekend. Otherwise, I might have hid with Cecilia in the schoolroom! How do you manage to stay so calm? I am sure I could not discuss housekeeping with your Mrs Malley with such equanimity. Can I look to you for guidance when I have my own house to run? I do hope so. (Did I tell you Mam insists I take Millie with me when Arthur & I are married? How comforting it will be to have the familiar presence of my dear maid as I make our new home.) Anyway, I feel a little more at ease with all these eminent people: it is hard to be overly discomfited when playing gaily at croquet on the lawn of Hierde House, or when guessing at a bumbling charade!
Again, the most sincere thanks from me & from Mam, who will also write to you—I could not wait. I will anticipate your return to London with great pleasure. Arthur is our frequent guest in Savile Row, of course, but we would also love to have you to dinner, & Sir George, if I am brave enough!
With love & best wishes,
Emily
December 18th 1863
Dearest Beatrice,
Thank you for your concern. We have been terribly worried about Mother, though I am relieved to write that she is now recovering. It is old troubles, I am afraid—the many misfortunes she suffered in mothering—Father too, of course. (I will tell this to you in confidence, as most of these losses were early & without her condition being guessed at by society.) Father is asking other physicians for their opinions, but he believes himself that the stress on her system at each past instance weakened her nerves then, & now bedrest is the best tonic. She is very sad at such times, as it reminds her of that most terrible of losses, & I do my best to cheer my brave Mam, though I am also reminded of our dear James. I know, too, that even though Mam has resigned herself to my future—is delighted with dear Arthur & fully supports my entry into the sanctity of marriage—she cannot but be saddened at the thought of her surviving fledgling flitting from the home nest.
Enough of such dreary talk! It is chilly but the sun is out, & Mother & I plan to take a short carriage ride this afternoon. It will not be too long before she is receiving visitors again with that sweet smile. As you will be in London within weeks, our very first visitor must be you. Pray agree!
With my love,
Emily
Dear Beatrice,
Yes, we will come to dinner! Mam is organising the carriage & we will be in Westminster very soon. How delightful it will be to have my Arthur & my Beatrice with me all at once!
Until tonight,
Emily
February 19th 1864
My dear Bea,
You would not recognise your happy sister in this sad countenance, yet I am grateful you could ease your long sorrow in my company, just as siblings ought, & I do wish to share my feelings with you, because it seems our families have a bond—an understanding that I felt almost immediately when Arthur & I began to speak beyond the usual niceties of social intercourse. I only hesitated to confide in you because it is hard to talk of loss & grief when others are nearby & to hide from company the agitation that rushes over me when I think of my beloved brother. But I know you will understand—you who have shown such sensitivity to matters of the heart—that if I write to you about dear James, it might help me to speak of him more naturally with you in the future, & for you to unburden yourself to me whenever you might need, as sisters do.
I was lost for years after James’s death, dear Bea, as if in a dense mist that would not lift, even in my coming out, even in the excitement of my first London season. I was only fifteen when it happened, after all, & he was my only sibling. Though he was often away with his schooling, then his years at Oxford, there was always a great attachment between us, even with the difference in our ages.
Oh, how I loved his breaks! He would arrive home with pages of impressive words & meanings for me to memorise, & a reading list: Plato, Dante, Rousseau—so many books that I would muddle through! Then on his next visit, he would ask, “So, what do you think of Pascal then, Emmie?” & Mother would say, “Leave her alone, James—she has dear Miss Roberts,” & he would tease Mother with, “Dear Miss Roberts does not educate her in philosophy, or Greek, or political economy …” & then Mother would interrupt with all the important skills the governess taught me, like French & the piano & dancing & how to converse in society. But whenever she would chide James & say, “The poor child should be concentrating on how to make a harmonious home for her future husband,” he would laugh & say that my brain would grow as fat & sluggish as Toby, our old pug. And he would poke poor Tobes with his toe & then all three of us would laugh. I can hear us laughing even now.
How good James was for me! He was always my greatest support & my dearest friend, but he encouraged me to be strong & certain, just as you & Arthur do. I remember skating with him on our cousins’ pond in Scotland—many, many happy memories of spinning & racing & falling, only to have his hand lift me to my feet again. Oh, & picking blackberries together for Mrs Bolton’s tasty tarts; popping the juiciest berries into our mouths, & that burst of sweet-sour flavour like a hope, perhaps. A promise of all that is possible.
So when he was gone, I felt I was gone too—as if we were trapped together in some strange in-between world; as if he were a shade without awareness of anything beyond the repeating habits of our household & the terror of his own death. I was with James, but the closeness was a torment. It was like … How can I explain? I would imagine, Bea, imagine, imagine, until I was driven to distraction; until I hardly dare open my eyes or unstop my ears. When I ran down the stairs, his toes would be at my heels, his breath at my neck. When I reached for more cake at supper, his gentle hand would tap mine. When I turned the corridor corner, there his own dear self would be.
That I could stand. But the nights, dear Bea, the nights! In the dark solitude of my bed I would be claimed by my poor brother’s last day on this earth: I would be with him on that sailing boat, a sunny holiday jaunt, a solo day-long voyage, the waves slapping salt against our faces, the deck boards jarring our knees. Together we saw the sky darken & heard the creaking complaint of the old timber; together we exulted, as we raced towards shore, at the climb to the crests of the waves, the plunge into their hollows. But then we heard that terrible thundering crack! & our hearts raced as we felt the boat undoing, as we slid over snapping, rending boards & clung to any that were not claimed by that devouring sea. And when, in the end, he was dragged from my grasp & into the grip of those cold waves, then finally, exhausted, bereft, I would succumb to sleep. But each night I would be woken by his shouts & his entreaty would come to me: “Emily. Emily! Please save me!” Each night I would hear his voice again, & each night I would lose him anew.
I have learned that there are all sorts of ghosts in this world. Brothers, mothers—babies without face or form; siblings who have never been. I have learned that those we loved fiercely haunt us the most. And here I write carefully, my dear Bea, knowing that what was lost to Arthur was lost to you also. Perhaps, then, you know the relief of sharing such despair & understand how Arthur came to me as a light through darkness. Why the ghost of James now gives me peace & why I can love him now, at last, without fear or consequence.
Poor Mam. We were no help to each other then, she & I. James was her last great loss, after the many silent, secret losses she & Father had already suffered. She had enough strength for herself alone. As for me: the nights I have spoken of enough, but the days were a trial of a different sort. All through that dreadful time I was plagued by terrible headaches & what Father said was anaemia & a “weak liver”, & was made to drink ghastly tonics & rest in bed in daylight, where I would toss around in fits of boredom & loneliness. Was it the lack of the reading with which James used to stimulate me? Or the absence of our teasing debates? The want of occupation? The loss of all those activities from which the weaker sex is discouraged, but which James gladly encouraged? All of these, I suppose. What I do know is that my suffering lifted when I met Arthur, & when we sealed our future with a kiss a year later, it was like a union with someone dearly loved who I had forgotten & did not know that I would ever, ever see again.
Dear Beatrice, I hope I have not been too maudlin; Mother would scold me if she knew I had been indulging these old feelings. But I am sure from your own words & the tears you shared with me that you must understand a sadness that never leaves entirely. And now your willingness to hear this history has left me calm & newly grateful for my dearest sister.
With love,
Emily
My dear Beatrice,
Thank you for all your concern for our small family. For your caring questions & your messages of love & support when I showed you all of myself & worried what you might think of me—not only the merry, teasing Emily, but the Emily who fears & grieves, I find now, just as you do. When I met Arthur I not only gained my sweetheart—someone to whom I can devote myself as a helpmeet in the years to come—I also found a sister & friend, where I feared there might be a cool judge. I remember now as if it were another girl, how my heart hammered as I wrote that first letter to you. And how presumptuous I felt to suggest my family’s wealth & Father’s recent success might balance your family’s prestige & its honourable ties to the soil of this nation. How inadequate my words seemed, unformed as my education has been, with gaps like holes in need of darning. It was only your warm manner that overcame my natural uncertainty—that terrible timidity that I believe is my bent.
Yes, I received the copy of Kingsley’s Water Babies & I agree. The story may be an enchanting escape from the worthy political tracts that you & Arthur recommend (best read away from Mam & Miss Roberts), but this “children’s novel” is full of that prejudice against the poor & the Irish which Arthur & I both condemn. Will this ever change? we often wonder. It is hard to imagine, though Arthur thinks social attitudes can become more rational & kinder, & I would like to believe him …
But enough! I wish to ask you something delightfully trivial, dear Bea: Will you be at the Wilsons’ ball on Saturday? I do hope so! I will wear my dove-grey, if it is not too cold.
With loving wishes,
Emily
March 3rd 1864
Dear Bea,
Thank you for your willing ear yesterday. I am so glad I can speak freely with you about these difficult matters; Mam accuses me of coarseness if I try, & Father tells me not to trouble myself about such things as dowries & marriage settlements—“That’s for us men to worry about,” he said to me last night. But I do need to understand how any independent income I receive will find its place within the marriage. How will we manage it in the running of a household & the pursuit of our goals? My darling Arthur is, of course, happy to explain it all, but sometimes we are a little awkward, mainly through my uncertainty &, also, his pride. He wishes to provide for us, & he assures me his income from the bar will hold us in good stead, but I would like my income to be available to the marriage without exception, so we can build connections in society & assure Arthur’s future in politics, if that is the path he chooses. It does seem that property will be included in the dowry, so that will be kept protected as an inheritance … But I do not understand this fully, Bea, & Father will not properly explain. Surely it is important that I have some knowledge of affairs related to me & some ability to determine them, even if I am young & only a woman!
With fond wishes,
Emily
March 6th 1864
Dearest Beatrice,
You were right! Arthur & I spoke privately about the money question after dinner last night & the knot was gently untied.
How delightful it is to discover that such issues are readily solved through thoughtful conversation with my dear Arthur. I am finding that even small disagreements only occasion teasing & delight. When I observe other couples, & their little shafts of displeasure & discomfort, I see how well Arthur & I rub together & how carefully he takes into account my point of view.
Miss Emily Reid become Mrs Rochdale. How grand it sounds. I can hardly contain myself, but I must, until that happy day when I truly become a part of your family. Meanwhile, we have lots to plan—only five months now!
Your soon-to-be-sister,
Emily