(Issue No. 1 of the St. Crispian’s Gazette is free, as it is the letter that was sent with the Emma book box this spring. Later this week, Issue No. 2 will be posted for all paid subscribers. Enjoy!)
June 23rd, 1880
Dear Henry,
Claire’s birthday gift arrived by post Thursday last. I am grateful and disturbed by the package in equal measure. She is now an enthusiastic entomologist, wielding joy as she suffocates half the insects in Nottinghamshire before impaling them with a pin and securing them to the mounting board. You are a wonderful uncle. I say this despite the fact that a dead beetle with one leg missing was bestowed on my pillow yesterday, with a scrap of pink ribbon.
I am now going to tell you something which you will not find pleasant, but do keep your temper at an abeyance, for all our sakes. I have heard from Madame La Coste. She writes from Nice, where Margaret and her classmates have been enjoying clement weather, fresh lemons, and plein air painting, as well as a chaperoned mingling with those of appropriate rank and class. Which delivers me to say that Margaret has eloped with an American.
I imagine, dearest, that you’ve stormed out of Stonecrop to march along the old road. If this be the case, may your bluster have blown over enough for me to convey what I know. Remember, patience. It is not that I take Maggie’s foolishness lightly—you know I never have—but we are past the point of what we wish would have happened and stand firmly on the ground of what has occurred. Nothing good comes from haranguing Maggie.
Now, as for the American. His name is Jonathan Revel. His family hails from the Philadelphia Revels, which apparently means something. Madame La Coste writes they’ve dealings in banking and industry, or the railroad—she isn’t sure which—and have dazzling amounts of money. This, Madame La Coste apologetically offers as compensation for the news. Personally, Mr. Revel is tied to horse racing. Henry, do remove the expression you now have on your face. It’s never been flattering. Mr. Revel is neither huckster nor gambler. He oversees his own stables and breeds fine horses for wealthy clients. This is what brought him to the Continent in the first place. I know you’re imagining an indulgent man of forty-three. Please stop. From all accounts, Mr. Revel is twenty-six years old. Possibly twenty-seven. Madame La Coste assures me he is thoughtful and measured yet confident. “Pleasingly brash in that American manner,” if I’ve translated the French correctly. I am choosing to interpret this as charming and invite you to do the same. He is, after all, now our brother-in-law. They are to write soon and visit soon after, or at least have promised to do so in the note left behind with Maggie’s art supplies—a pursuit she never cared for in the least.
I’ve been ruminating over what might be done. As you well know, I’ve little care for scandal and propose we say nothing of the matter. Maggie, impatient with society, maintained few connections here in England. A small victory. Upon enquiry, we say Maggie is touring Europe with an elderly companion. Not strictly an untruth as Mr. Revel is ten years her senior and it is thought they went to Italy. If rumour emerges of their escapade before we are ready to place a calm announcement in The Times, we give the rational answer of a small, tasteful wedding and be done with it. From what I understand, Mr. Revel spends his time between a ranch in California and stables in Maryland. He was returning from Damascus when he broke his journey in France. As he likely spends little or no time with anyone we know and does not live in New York or Boston, all this might be weathered in fine form.
As for Maggie, she was always anxious to be on her way, even before she became what I affectionately refer to as headstrong and you call blindingly irresponsible and enormously self-interested. I wish it hadn’t have happened, but here we are. Let us be pleased this did not occur when she was fourteen, with the fellow from Hawkes’s rowing team.
There. I have discharged all known information.
Please believe this is not your fault, Henry. Nothing Maggie has chosen is due to your lack of care or responsibility. I know you will take this upon yourself, but you oughtn’t. There is a reason why James and I have named you our girls’ guardian if anything should happen. We trust you implicitly.
As you will certainly be travelling down to convey your displeasure in person, I will order your rooms sorted, as well as have Netherby prepare the stables. You can rant and rail to your heart’s content before you and James walk the estate. The girls are animated at the thought of their Uncle Henry’s visit and request a posy each. I have been teaching them how to dry flowers.
With love,
Marianna
Hawkes on a rowing team😍
Love this so much! Never, ever stop writing.