
Welbeck Abbey
Nottinghampshire
Dearest Manon,
As promised, I am writing to assure you of my safe arrival and warm welcome at Welbeck. After the recent unfortunate events at sea, (although thoroughly a fiend, Capt. Nemo did have a bit of rakish charm & I must confess (please don't be shocked, Manon) that my pulse did quicken in his presence, however that awful Mr. Mudskipper I hope never to lay eyes on again!) I am so very grateful to be embraced in this calm oasis of gentility and charm - it shall be my temporary refuge from the horrors that the world can spring so unexpectedly upon a lady! The house is well appointed and William has provided me with a most agreeable chambermaid, so you see how foolish it was of me to worry that Mathilde could not make the trip as well. The grounds are lovely (as that horrible Mrs. Sproggin has said time and again) I do believe she is trying to make a match between her niece and William, one that I hope shall never come to be. She is far too garish a girl for a man of his position, don't you think? As I was saying, the grounds are lovely and I do look forward to strolling them with my beloved W-S, speaking of whom, has not yet arrived. I had not heard how he was traveling, but I understand that rail travel from his estate can be most vexing. Shortly after breakfast this morning William had a most exasperating visitor, a rather Teutonic fellow by the comical name of Otto. He claimed to be a prince, but I, for one, did not believe that for a moment. When I say he was exasperating, I mean that as soon as he arrived all thoughts of our lovely plans for the day were pushed aside so that he might be accommodated. He and William were closed up in the library for what must have been hours, conferencing about who knows what! Oh, and we did have such lovely plans! An outing to a very important historical site - a church, or abandoned well, or something or other - had been arranged, complete with picnicking and word games, a most jolly time! But all was washed away like footprints on the strand upon the arrival of "prince" Otto. Still all is not lost. We are a cheerful group and will find other amusements now that he has left (William has invited a frightful old adventurer who tells the most unbelievable tales of his years in the colonies, not one of which could be true, still he is most amusing, and I think he would enjoy the company of dear Mrs. Weston-Thumpe who, as you know, has been so very lonely since her son married). Apparently he (pr. Otto, not the adventurer) had an important engagement to buy candy with an old military chum of his, and I say "well and good" to that! Although, one would think that marzipan could be had in any village confectionery throughout the empire. There remains one small cloud on my horizon. W-S still has not arrived, although I am sure that he is merely delayed and will arrive in time for tonight's pianoforte concert. Why, I, myself, had quite a tempestuous trip hence! The train was stopped for a time on more than one occasion. Rumor (heard from a rather dowdy leader of a group of Girl Guides scurrying through the cars - she really was quite a sight, Manon, with her drab uniform, including pith helmet and bloomers! an article of apparel of which I most strongly do not approve) was that some gentleman had been the victim of foul play. All that was discovered of him was a smashed squash racquet. Well, must dash off - luncheon is being served on the terrace quite soon, and I must admit that the wonderful country air has given me a ravenous appetite.
Much love,
LLW
What in the name of all that's cricket is Lady Lyme Weoghe doing at that the estate of that utter cad, William, Duke of Portland!
ReplyDeleteWhy the utter audacity!
I'm very interested to know if the Duke of Portland will have bingo and what type of bingo will it be.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, has no one told her that her dearest W-S has been kidnapped by that succubus Marzipan? Can't we get one of the servants do it? I'm terrible at this sort of thing. Always have been. I'm afraid I'd upset her delicate female humors. I'm really not good at dealing with the fairer sex at all. Put me and a few stout lads up against a horde of Whirling Dervishes and I'll manage just fine, but up against a weeping woman, forget about it.
ReplyDeletePerhaps we could send her one of those new fangled telegrams.
Now then, tell me which better - Hackney Star Bingo or St. Albans Top Rank Suite?
ReplyDelete