The Letters

The correspondence of Katherine Morris and Eugenia Lewis:

3rd June 1793
Armstrong House, London

My dearest friend Katherine,

Oh, how delighted I was to receive your letter yesterday! Captain Mayhew did indeed call with his sister, Mrs. Wright, to deliver your missive. Though the Captain’s visit was far too short, we both know about Mrs. W – she’s never wrong, and consequently I was wishing her in Bath before they took their leave.

Stephen and I both thank you for your condolences. Father’s death came as quite a surprise to us both, for we had dined with him the night before and all was well, but come the morning, the servants were all in an uproar, and he was dead! The physician says it was a sudden brain fever that struck him in the night, but I think he was poisoned by one of England’s enemies. He was the only one who ate the oysters at dinner the night before, and one of the serving boys went missing that morning, too.

We are now staying with our aunt, Lady Armstrong. She is Lord Armstrong’s second wife, and while they have no children, his lordship has a son from his first marriage who is in residence. Or was it that Aunt is his third wife, and the son comes from the second? It goes something like that. He is the Viscount Hartfield, but he insists we call him Kevin and acts as if he were our elder brother. Perhaps he can exert a positive influence on Stephen! In either event, he associates with all kinds of rogues, according to Aunt, including Irish revolutionaries!!! Though he has not brought any to the house, I should very much like to meet one. Imagine how exciting that would be!

We were shocked to read your accounts of the mobs in Paris, but I fear it is all corroborated by the Times reports. While I hope you are very safe and that you and your father escape injury – and that poor Father Jacques! – I can’t help but envy you. It is very boring here. We are all dressed in our mourning clothes and I am not even allowed to go riding by myself without taking a maid. I fear I shall grow very fat, sitting around and doing nothing but embroidering cushions. It is so dreary, and I wish I had an adventure.

Though I suppose it is not terribly sisterly of me, I can tell you that even if our dear friend K.S. can’t get another paper published quickly, I doubt “his” bet with Stephen will be lost. Just this morning, Aunt heard from one of the maids about his collections of insects and ordered them thrown out, along with all of his other samples! The deed was done before I was even awake. When Stephen arrives home, it will doubtless prove an interesting scene. I wish there was another place for me to go – for Stephen, at least, will have Cambridge when the new term begins – but I am stuck with Aunt until I marry or turn five and twenty, for no one considers Stephen to be an adequate protector of my virtue (bah!) and so I may not go back to my father’s house! It is all so vexing and stupid!

I hear my brother’s voice – he is home from his morning ride. He, at least, does not have to have an escort! But he will find out my aunt’s handiwork soon enough, and I must go listen.

Your affectionate and devoted

Eugenia Lewis