On Christmas Eve Demelza opened a letter from Verity that ran as follows:
My Dear Cousin Demelza,
Your welcome letter reached me yesterday morning and I am replying—prompt for me!—to say how pleased I am to learn all are well, with all this sickness abroad. In this Town it is very bad, two or three things rage, and who has not got one takes another. However, thanks to God, we too escape, at Church on Sunday the Pews were but half filled owing to it, and afterward we called on Mrs. Daubuz, the mayor’s wife, to condole with her on the loss of her baby son. We found her very sad but resigned; she is a fine woman.
I am glad that you have at last had news that Mark Daniel is safe in France—that is if anyone can be safe there at this present. It was a horrible thing to happen and I wish it had never been. I can sympathize with Mark but not condone his act.
We have been very busy here for a week past. The East India Fleet consisting of three fine ships and a frigate, with two Fleets from the West Indies as well as one from Oporto bound home, are all come into our port except a few from the Leeward Islands, which are gone up Channel. The Harbor is a fine sight with above 200 sail of Vessels in view from our House. The Fleets are very valuable and the Town is full of Passengers from them.
Well, my dear, I am very happy in my new life. I think age is much how you feel; as a spinster of nearly thirty-one I felt old and sere, but as a married woman I do not at all seem the same. I have put on weight since I came and get no more Catarrh, perhaps it is the softer Climate that suits me, but I think that is not it. Andrew too is happy and is always whistling in the house. It is strange because no one at Trenwith ever whistled. Some things I miss terrible, some of my old work, and often I long to see the old faces, especially when Andrew is away, but so far, my dear, you can claim that your faith in us has not gone Awry. Bless you for all you did.
I could have wished that this Christmas time could have seen a reconciling of us all, a real gathering of just the six of us, with of course Julia and Geoffrey Charles. That would have been good; alas, I’m afraid Francis will never soften. But I know Ross will, and in the Spring when the weather improves and Ross is less busy, I want you both to come over and spend a week with me. We have quite a number of friends and no one dislikes Andrew who knows him well.
My dear, I am so sorry that all Ross’s work seems to be coming to nought; it is too bad and such a Pity, for the industry needs all the help it can get. There are distressed tinners around here and some entered the Town last week and made a disturbance. So far it has been a terrible winter and I hope and pray with so many near starving that nothing will happen here like what has happened across the water. Try not to let Ross take this to heart as sometimes he is inclined to do, feeling that any failure is his failure. If the very worst comes and the smelting works closes it may be only a setback for a few years, and happier times will see a reopening. Captain Millett, one of the Frigate Captains, said yesterday that what we need is another war. A terrible solution, but there were others in the room to agree with him. Better Poverty than that, I say.
My only regret is that Andrew is away so much. He leaves this evening and will be gone all Christmas and into the New Year. I have thought often to go with him, but he says wait until the summer when the Bay of Biscay will not be so Steep. He loves the sea devotedly but is known throughout the Service as a “driver.” Always when he comes home he seems strained, as if the voyage has tried his nerves; he is easier to cross and a trifle moody. I think too he drinks a little during his time at sea—no wonder, for he needs something to sustain him—but never touches a drop while ashore. It takes me one day of his precious time at home to make him quite content, then soon he has to be up and away.
I have not met my two “children” yet. That is something of an Ordeal that may be mine about Easter, when The Thunderer with James Blamey on board as a cadet is expected home. Esther Blamey, Andrew’s daughter, is at boarding school and lives with his Sister near Plymouth. It may be that she will come and visit us too in the Spring. Pray for me then! I do so wish to make a home for them here and to make them welcome, if only our relationship will allow. I sometimes think I am such a poor mixer and wish I had an Easy manner, which some people have.
Our housekeeper, Mrs. Stevens, was taken so ill with pains in the stomach last night that we sent for Dr. Silvey, but he said it was cramp and gave her a piece of roll Brimstone sewed in fine linen to hold near the affected part when she felt the pain. This has been a wonderful cure, but for my part I do not think she takes enough rhubarb.
I shall think of you this Christmas. I am very, very glad you gave me the courage to make my own life. God bless and keep you both.
Verity