Page 13 of The Book of Lost Stories
I expect you will see copies of Grismort before ever I do.
Lady Mallorie’s Secret proceeds slowly, but I must press on, for who knows how long the vogue for such novels will last?
You asked what Lady Mallorie’s Secret was, and in strictest confidence it is that she is not a widow, as she pretends, but a wife fleeing with her child from a brutal and drunken husband, who married her for her fortune:
‘He looked at her, and she saw at once the calculating monster hidden beneath the mask of seeming amiability and affection and was repelled.
How could she ever have been deceived in her husband’s character?’
There, is that not shocking? The vile husband will recapture her, but then I fear I intend to commit murder, in order to permit her to be happy thereafter.
Your affectionate friend,
Alys
Dearest Nell,
I was so sorry to hear of your disappointment, and I know it is of no consolation to say that you are very young yet, and there is plenty of time to start your family. I do so wish I was near enough to visit.
It was delightful to see you when you stopped here on your way to visit friends last month. Mr Rivers, in agreeing to make a detour of several miles just so you could spend an hour with an old friend, shows a generous and amiable disposition.
How sad the news of the King’s illness is, and how shall we go on? Prince George sounds sadly profligate and, if it is not treasonable to say so, of a flibbertigibbet character.
Your affectionate friend,
Alys
Dear Nell,
It is quite decided. Thomas Grimshaw is to invest the money from my writing in the little house in Hans Town, and let it out.
I count myself very fortunate to have the assistance of so trustworthy a young man and also one who can drive a hard bargain, for I never thought to receive such sums of money for my novels.
You would be quite shocked if you knew how much he attained for Lady Mallorie’s Secret.
Poor Papa continues to deteriorate, so I only hope my novels carry on selling in large numbers. Thomas is of the opinion that Orlando Browne’s name is now made. I have attempted several false starts at a new book. The ideas seem to jostle in my head, then come to nothing.
I had thought Prince George would immediately change the government for the worse once he became Regent, but from what you say, he has not done any such thing. Wiser counsels may yet prevail!
Your affectionate friend,
Alys
Dear Nell,
Some quite astounding news – and funny, too, I suppose, if only the consequences had not been so unfortunate, for I have received an offer of marriage. Yes, you may stare, and so did I, when my cousin James suddenly conceived a fancy for me!
You could have bowled me over with a feather and, of course, I said ‘no’ immediately and told him that my feelings for him were, and could only remain, sisterly.
But he seemed unable to believe that his suit was not acceptable to me.
Sir Ralph was enraged, for he had long intended that James marry our nearest neighbour’s daughter when she is of age, and Papa, of course, was too much afraid of losing his patronage to show approval of the match.
Anyway, the upshot is that James is to be sent off to Antigua, where the family has an estate, and is expected to marry our neighbour’s daughter on his return, which is alarmingly like the plot of Grismort , except that James, of course, is not a villain.
I am rather out of favour with the squire and Papa said it was clear to him that I was a cunning minx, like my mother, which seems an unkind thing to say of one who gave up everything dear to her in order to run away and marry him.
My new novel, Ravish’d by Cruel Fate , proceeds slowly, since Papa is ever frailer and more demanding. If he is not constantly watched he attempts to get out of bed, and often raves of enlisting to fight, although whether against America or Boney is unclear.
I found Byron’s first cantos of Childe Harold quite scandalously thrilling, and only hope he may continue with them!
Your affectionate friend,
Alys
Dear Nell,
A hasty note in reply to yours, for Papa has suffered a seizure after the rector stupidly mentioned the Prime Minister’s assassination during one of his visits. The doctor has been, and thinks that the effects will pass off in time, but at present everything is at sixes and sevens.
Reading between the lines of your recent letters, I am convinced that something has occurred to render you less blissfully happy than formerly.
Perhaps you fear that in taking up again with his old friends, your husband may slip back into the wild ways of his youth?
But reflect that he is an older and wiser man now.
Also, did you not tell me that Nat Hartwood, whom you like, is one of his particular friends?
I hope that you will confide in one who is ever your sincere friend,
Alys
*
‘I could see that the rector thought it quite shocking that we should not be in mourning for Sir Ralph,’ Letty said, as they sat in the parlour listening to Mr Franby’s ponderous footsteps ascending the stairs to the invalid’s chamber.
‘But it would be impossible to keep the news from Papa if we did so, and he has been so frail of late that the least shock could carry him off. Mr Franby must be able to see that for himself.’
‘How goes your letter to your cousin?’
‘I think it is almost finished. I will read it to you:
My dear cousin James,
It is with deep regret that I must inform you of the demise of your poor father, although this letter may cross with one from Sir Ralph’s man of business, who has also written to break the news and bid you hasten home from Antigua.
Sir Ralph’s new young hunter came down with him at that tricky wall and ditch near Three Acres Wood. He did not suffer, for his neck was broken in the fall.
We have kept the news from Papa so far, since the seizure he suffered last year has left him very weak and we fear the effect on his health of losing his cousin, only friend and benefactor.
Miss Grimshaw asks me to add her condolences to mine.
Pray give our respects to your wife, whom we both look forward to welcoming to her new home.
Tell her that I have had the servants thoroughly clean the Hall in readiness for her arrival, and ordered the furniture put into holland covers.
Since your mother died they have grown sadly lax, but do not fear: I intend to take charge now.
‘Poor Lady Basset! I fear we miss her sadly,’ Letty said, her weak blue eyes resting mistily for a moment on Pug’s plump form, prone and stertorous on a cushion.
Alys sighed. ‘How quickly life changes. First Lady Basset and now Sir Ralph.’
‘Mary says death always comes in threes.’
‘Servants’ superstition, Letty! Besides, Lady Basset has been dead these two years and more.’
‘Well, I am sure I hope James’s wife will prove to be as much a friend to us as his mother was, Alys.’
‘Dear Letty, you are friend and companion enough for me,’ Alys said affectionately, then laid down her pen. ‘You know, the rector is paying rather more than his usual brief visit to Papa, for it must be quite a quarter of an hour since he—’
There was a clattering on the stairs and then the door burst open and Mary rushed in, her cap askew. ‘Eh, Miss Alys, you’d best come straight away, for Rector’s gone and told master about poor Sir Ralph and it’s sent him in t’such a fit he’s like to die!’
‘Tell Saul to go straight for the doctor, Mary. He can go in Mr Franby’s gig. And tell him to be as quick as he can,’ Alys ordered, making for the stairs.
But it was all over long before the doctor could be fetched.
*
‘Mary was right, after all: deaths do come in threes,’ Miss Grimshaw said after the funeral, as they sat in the parlour like a pair of large crows; although it has to be said that black suited Alys’s pale skin and chestnut hair very well.
‘But this death was not unlooked for, and is more in the nature of a blessed release.’ Though shaken and upset, Alys could not pretend to be heartbroken by the death of one who had never shown her such signs of fatherly affection as might have endeared him to her.
Despite – or perhaps because of – recent tragic events, she had found fresh inspiration for her new book, which was just as well, for now she felt the whole burden of their future suddenly resting upon her shoulders.
Should she fail, poor, faithful Letty must return to live as a dependant on her relatives, or find another post, and she herself would be reliant on the kindness of her cousin and his as yet unknown wife.
‘You are not … not going to write your novel now , are you?’ faltered Miss Grimshaw as Alys seated herself purposefully before her little desk and lifted the lid.
‘Of course, for there is no time to be lost, and nothing to be gained by sitting about pretending a grief I do not feel.’
‘Ravish’d by Cruel Fate is a very odd sort of title, Alys. Immured as you have always been, I do not know where you get such strange fancies from.’
‘But I have never been entirely cut off from the world,’ said Alys, amused.
‘What with newspapers and books and Nell’s letters, not to mention that kind note from Mrs Radcliffe, when she recognized my hand in Malvina .
I fear she is probably a better woman than I will ever be, or my heroines would not be so wilfully sure they always know what is right. ’
Alys trimmed her pen and set to, writing swiftly, and she hardly registered when Letty quietly left the room to see to the sending off of the remainder of their clothing to be dyed black.
Dear Nell,
Well, it is all over, and we are fixed here awaiting the return of James and his new bride.
It suits us well enough at present, for there is much to do both here and at the Hall, and everyone looks to me for directions.
Also, the little house in Hans Town is let until early next year, so even should we wish to live there, we could not.
Yesterday, sorting Papa’s effects, we discovered some letters from my grandfather, Titus Hartwood.
Although I only have one side of this brief exchange of correspondence, they were clearly talking at cross-purposes.
Papa was demanding the money he thought due to Mama on her marriage, which took place at Gretna – how scandalous!
– but my grandfather, after berating Papa as a vile abductor, among other interesting appellations, says, tellingly, ‘You have removed a treasure from this house, and I will not treat with you until it is returned.’
Well, by ‘a treasure’ Mr Hartwood must surely have meant the golden pendant I found hidden among Mama’s things, which presumably she brought away with her for some reason.
But Papa evidently thought he was referring to Mama herself, though how he was to return her when they were married, I cannot imagine.
I don’t suppose Mama knew anything about the exchange, or she might have set Papa right, but perhaps she had got his measure by then, and would not have entrusted the treasure into his hands.
It is a mystery, but if Mr Hartwood set such store by the thing, then I must endeavour to return it when I find a safe way of doing so.
Happily, my new book is at last coming along rapidly. I hope you also are feeling more cheerful now that Mr Rivers has explained that his frequent visits to Lord Chase’s house are due to his forming a little Scientific Society with those of his old friends who share his interests.
Besides, you did say that he seemed quieter and more thoughtful since the tragic death of his childhood friend, Gervase Stavely, so perhaps he was a bad influence upon him?
But I am, of course, very sorry for Mr Stavely’s mama and younger sisters, who have been good neighbours to you in Cheshire.
I believe there is a younger son, at present serving in the Peninsular?
Our foothold on life seems remarkably insecure. One must just live each day as it comes.
Your affectionate friend,
Alys