Page 18 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)
Chapter Fourteen
H enry sat at his perfectly organized writing desk, staring at a blank sheet of correspondence paper while trying to find adequate words to describe his new neighbor to his sister.
Three false starts lay crumpled in the wastepaper basket, each attempt having devolved into what could only be described as barely coherent rambling about peacocks and impropriety.
He dipped his pen and tried again.
My Dear Eleanor,
I hope this letter finds you well and that your studies in Yorkshire continue to prove satisfactory. You inquired in your last correspondence about the new resident of Lavender Cottage, and I confess the subject requires more explanation than I initially anticipated.
Henry paused, realizing he was already understating the situation considerably.
Lady Marianne Linfield arrived in Somerset approximately six weeks ago and has since established what can only be described as the most unconventional household in the county.
She is a widow of perhaps twenty-six years, possessed of adequate fortune and a complete disregard for social conventions that I find both fascinating and deeply concerning.
He stopped writing and rubbed his temples. 'Fascinating and deeply concerning' hardly captured the complexity of his feelings about Lady Marianne, but it would have to suffice for correspondence with his unmarried sister.
Her domestic arrangements are rather... unique.
She appears to have collected a menagerie of animals that she treats as family members rather than livestock.
These include, but are not limited to: a peacock of remarkable vanity and dramatic temperament, a pug who has appointed himself unofficial greeter to the entire neighborhood, a rooster who conducts what appear to be military inspections of her property, and a parrot with an extensive vocabulary of nautical expressions.
Henry set down his pen and looked out his window toward Lavender Cottage, where he could see Lady Marianne in her garden, apparently engaged in animated conversation with the aforementioned peacock while the pug observed from a respectful distance.
I should clarify that when I say she treats them as family members, I mean this quite literally.
The peacock—whom she has named Clarence—is permitted to wander freely throughout her cottage and has established himself as what appears to be a self-appointed advisor on matters of aesthetics and drama.
The pug, Wellington, accompanies her on social calls and has developed the disturbing habit of following me about my own property whenever I venture outdoors.
Henry realized he was smiling as he wrote this, which seemed inappropriate for a letter describing problematic neighboring situations.
Yesterday, I observed Lady Marianne conducting what she described as a "household meeting" in her garden. This involved seated arrangements for herself and five animals, with apparent attempts at democratic discussion of domestic policies. The rooster, Gerald, appeared to be taking minutes.
He paused again, wondering how this would sound to Eleanor, who had been raised in the same tradition of systematic household management that Henry himself favored.
You may wonder why I am providing such detailed descriptions of what might seem like mere eccentric animal-keeping. The answer is that Lady Marianne's approach to... well, to everything... challenges conventional wisdom in ways that I find simultaneously admirable and utterly bewildering.
For instance, when Mrs. Patterson's granddaughter fell ill last week, Lady Marianne appeared at their cottage within hours bearing not only soup and medicinal herbs, but also Wellington, whom she claimed possessed remarkable therapeutic qualities for anxious children.
The child made a full recovery within days, though whether this was due to the medicinal herbs or the pug's bedside manner remains unclear.
Henry found himself chuckling at the memory of Wellington solemnly sitting beside the sick child's bed like a fuzzy guardian angel.
Similarly, when young Tommy Smith's lamb went missing, Lady Marianne organized what she called a "search expedition" involving herself, three village children, two of her own animals, and a systematic grid search of the surrounding countryside.
They located the lamb within two hours—a feat that the more traditional search parties had failed to accomplish in three days.
Her methods are unorthodox, Eleanor, but her results are undeniably effective.
Henry stared at what he'd written, realizing he was describing Lady Marianne's successes rather than her problematic behavior. He attempted to redirect.
However, her disregard for proper social protocols creates considerable challenges for those of us who prefer more.
.. structured... approaches to community life.
She calls upon neighbors without prior arrangement, involves herself in local matters that might be considered outside a lady's purview, and maintains the sort of household schedule that appears to be dictated by animal preferences rather than human convenience.
For example, her morning routine is apparently determined by Clarence's preferred display schedule, her afternoon activities are planned around Gerald's territorial patrol requirements, and her evening social availability depends upon Napoleon's (the parrot's) willingness to remain quietly occupied.
I realize this sounds quite mad when written out plainly.
Henry stopped writing and considered this admission. It did sound mad. It also sounded like exactly the sort of creative problem-solving that he found himself reluctantly admiring.
The most perplexing aspect of the entire situation is that Lady Marianne appears to be genuinely content with these arrangements.
She speaks to her animals as if they were rational conversational partners, involves them in her decision-making processes, and seems to find their various personality quirks endearing rather than inconvenient.
Moreover, the local community has responded to her presence with what can only be described as enthusiasm.
Mrs. Smith praises her practical household management.
The village children regard her as a source of endless entertainment and education.
Even Reverend Dunley speaks favorably of her charitable inclinations, despite the fact that Clarence has twice interrupted services with what he calls "artistic contributions. "
Henry realized he was defending Lady Marianne's character rather than describing her problematic influence on local order.
I find myself in the peculiar position of being simultaneously exasperated by her methods and impressed by her achievements. She accomplishes more in a week of apparent chaos than most people manage in a month of systematic planning.
Yesterday, I observed her teaching young Emma Davidson to read using a method that involved the pug performing tricks to illustrate different letters of the alphabet. Unconventional, certainly, but the child learned more in one afternoon than she had in weeks of traditional instruction.
Eleanor, I confess I am uncertain how to categorize Lady Marianne Linfield. She defies every assumption I have made about proper household management, appropriate social behavior, and effective community contribution. Yet somehow, everything she does seems to work.
Henry paused, realizing he had revealed far more about his own confused feelings than he had intended.
Perhaps you could offer some sisterly wisdom about how one should respond to neighbors whose approach to life challenges fundamental assumptions about order and propriety? I find myself caught between admiration for her results and concern about her methods.
Also, if you happen to have any insights about the care and management of visiting pugs, I would be grateful for the information.
Wellington has apparently decided that my morning constitutional requires his supervision, and I am uncertain whether this represents friendship or a canine assessment that my exercise routine needs improvement.
Your devoted brother, Henry
Post Scriptum: Clarence has just appeared at my study window and appears to be critiquing my garden arrangements.
I suspect Lady Marianne has sent him on a diplomatic mission regarding proper flower bed maintenance.
The peacock's aesthetic opinions are surprisingly sophisticated, though I question his qualifications in horticultural matters.
Henry sealed the letter and sat back in his chair, realizing that his attempt to describe Lady Marianne's problematic influence had instead become what amounted to a catalog of her remarkable qualities disguised as complaints about her unconventional methods.
Eleanor would undoubtedly see straight through his carefully neutral language to the truth he was barely admitting to himself: that Lady Marianne Linfield was the most fascinating woman he had ever encountered, and that her beautiful chaos was systematically dismantling every assumption he had made about what he wanted from life.
But admitting such things in writing felt far too dangerous, even to his beloved sister.
Better to maintain the pretense that his interest was merely neighborly concern about local order and propriety.
Even if that pretense was becoming harder to maintain with each passing day.
Especially when Clarence was currently tapping on his window with what appeared to be increasingly urgent requests for consultation about matters of garden design.
"Oh, very well," Henry said aloud, rising to open the window. "But this is strictly a horticultural discussion, you understand. Nothing more."
Clarence's response suggested he understood perfectly, and that Henry was fooling absolutely no one—least of all himself—about the true nature of his growing interest in the unconventional lady across the lane.