Weeks after Patrick Lansdowne had sailed, Charlotte sat at her desk and dipped her pen into ink to hover over a fresh sheet of foolscap. Her daily correspondence to her friends and relatives complete, she had resolved to write Patrick in answer to his letter. But how to phrase her words?
A dollop of ink dripped to the paper.
Salutations, Lord Patrick!
How do you fare? Your letter sounds as if life at sea is treating you well. I am pleased you are bound for the Mediterranean, rather than Bermuda. Closer to home.
I hope you do not mind me calling you Lord Patrick. I find Lord Hawthorne or Captain Lansdowne too formal for an “engaged” couple.
Please continue with your vivid descriptions of the sea and sky, for I am painting a challenging seascape and hope to incorporate your details onto the canvas.
All is well at Halafair, though Claire has contracted a cold from her many treks to a nearby dig. I admire my sister’s passion, but I confess her absorption with archaeology leaves me nonplussed. Gardening is the only dirt I wish to turn.
I recently read Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias.” What an exceptional work! I suspect you will find it so upon reading the poem. I shall enclose a copy.
Do you and your men play cards? I bet that you do so. Whist, piquet, vingt-et-un? I am curious. What else do you do aboard ship of a recreational nature?
Your descriptions of the native costumes and landscapes of the West Indies thrilled me. Though I may never see that exotic land, I feel I have been there due to your lively words.
I visited Woodbine to see Rose, and she and your brother are faring well. I have a surprise for their anniversary, a work-in-progress. Can you guess the subject matter? I suspect you shall.
Do stay safe.
Yours,
Lady Charlotte, Halafair Hall
While in port, Patrick’s cabin boy handed him his correspondence, including a letter from Lady Charlotte. He opened it first, knifing through the seal, and upon reading her tepid thoughts on her sister’s archeological fervor, he laughed aloud. He assembled his writing materials, for he must return an equally entertaining missive.
Dear Lady Charlotte,
How fare you? We are headed for the Black Sea, and I am in a sour mood as we have been becalmed for a solid three days. The men are restless, as are the officers and myself!
The painting I purchased from you now hangs in my cabin, a true pleasure and delight each time I view it.
You may find this as charming as I do—a cabin boy, not my own, mind you, has seen fit to attach himself to me. He is a fine little fellow named Henry, of about eight years. He has become my shadow, and his antics give me much amusement. He seldom speaks, other than to say, “yes, sir,” yet he manages to convey a plethora of emotion in those two words and appears at the oddest of times. I fear a bad case of hero worship.
Did he know my many flaws, ones you are privy to, he would run in the other direction.
To answer your question, we indeed play poker, whist, and vingt-et-un, most often with my steward, Lieutenant Banby, who is somewhat of a card shark! Regarding other recreational activities…the lieutenant embroiders pictures, as do several of the other men, which are called woolies. A few tell entertaining stories, whilst others play musical instruments such as flutes or drums. Dice games are popular, as are woodcarving or model making. I admit to the latter pastime.
I began The Bride of Lammermoor (Anonymous), but did not find it pleasurable, thus I have switched to Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus, also published anonymously. A ripping read. Have you read it?
No tales of adventure nor exotics in this letter, I am afraid, though I am wondering when you shall cry off our engagement. I fear it shall be an onerous task, and I do not envy you.
Whilst in the West Indies, I purchased a token for you from Barbados, a “painting” made of shells by a local woman. I suspect you will be amazed by its intricacy.
Do tell more about your gift to Rhys and Rose, for I suspect both Roddy and Dolce figure prominently! Those yearlings are full of mischief!
Yours truly,
Captain Patrick Lansdowne, the Royal Charles
How awful to be becalmed, Charlotte thought. How frustrating. She hoped the winds had picked up by now. Of course, they must have, given his letter arrived eons after posting.
Patrick had purchased a token for her from exotic Barbados! How kind…and intriguing. Shells, of all amazing things. Any art fascinated her, including Patrick’s model building, and she was equally charmed by his lieutenant’s embroidery, having seen other exquisite works by sailors at sea called woolies. She must tell him more of her current painting in her next letter.
Dear Lord Patrick,
I hope the winds have picked up by now! The rain here is unceasing and I am in the glums. I must light several braces of candles to paint, and that frustrates me excessively. Are you no longer becalmed? I fervently hope so, for it sounded rather tedious, as well as producing mischief amongst the crew. Do you still have your “shadow” cabin boy?
You make ship models! What a complex craft, and I can picture you, tweezers in hand, bent over your work. Upon your return, I do hope you will share some of your models with me.
I have begun a large piece for the Royal Academy of Arts’ Summer Exhibition. I am pleased…so far, yet I have much work still to come before its completion. Perhaps this is the year the committee will approve my work for entry! I think you will approve, for it is a seascape.
Currently, I am reading Northanger Abby by Jane Austen. It is exceptionally written and quite Gothic in tone. Also quite amusing. Have you read any of Austen’s work? For years before her passing, her works were labelled by “A Lady.” It is only with her sad death that her works bear her true name. I find that rather tragic.
My ten-year-old pup, Titian, is ailing and I am rather distraught. He is a fine fellow and I would hate for him to leave us. When I visited Woodbine, I made sure Diablo was faring well. Your horse is in fine fettle, though I suspect he longs for his master.
Regarding our engagement, I am hoping to make our announcement ending it at the height of another’s scandal, thus saving myself and you from an excess of chatter. Soon, I am sure.
Yours,
Lady Charlotte, Halafair Hall
Dear Lady Charlotte,
How is Titian? I do hope he is faring better.
At the moment, I am reading nothing, for I am on fire! A man I dislike intently—an admiral, no less—has ordered the Royal Charles join his Mediterranean flotilla. We were bound for home, and when the order came through, all aboard were greatly disappointed, myself included. He and I shall not interact a great deal, yet I loathe the sight of him even surrounded by the sea. He has an untrustworthy soul and is a man who derided our great Lord Nelson.
On a more uplifting subject or perhaps a laughable one, the boy’s hero worship has only increased. I now call Henry my barnacle, for he is seldom far from my side. A more insidious case of hero worship I have not seen. My personal cabin boy’s nose is quite out of joint! Yet I cannot find it in my heart to dismiss Henry, for he means well and his antics greatly amuse me.
Yours truly,
Captain Patrick Lansdowne, the Royal Charles