Rose Houghton MacGreggor
Houghton House
Fernham Road
Uffington, Oxfordshire
Great Britain
22 July 1870
Mother,
Greetings from the continent. You have been close to my thoughts the last few days.. I hope all is well at home. Is old Walsh still able to manage the grounds and any repairs you need? Perhaps we should be thinking about his retirement and look for someone a little younger? I know Meghan and the new maid, whose name I have forgotten again I am sorry to say, are taking superb care of you and the household. I am glad you have someone as loyal as Meghan with you. Ever since that unfortunate incident (was it five years ago or six?) when you and I extracted her daughter from that... place (I still cannot think of it as an orphanage!), I have never feared for your care.
Is the girl, (Colleen is her name, yes?), still staying with Meghan there? Last time I visited, she seemed to be doing so much better. I imagine she will always be a little undersized, do you not agree?
Knowing my sisters as I do, I am sure you are kept amused. Have you made any progress with Bernie, oh excuse me – Bernadette, at all? Her pursuit of a husband would be amusing if she could just settle on someone... acceptable... that is not the word I am looking for, but I know you know what I mean. Some gentle-man with sense, who would value her opinion and care what she thinks... someone not like father, is what I am getting at, I guess. Maybe because she is so young, she just cannot remember what living with a man like that is like. She was just out of the nursery when he passed, if memory serves. That could be it. Father would still have seemed bigger, better, stronger and so on, to her then. Something to think about.
I had a letter from Gwen before I left the city. Sounds like the Scouring of the White Horse should be quite a fete this year! She has been inspired in the way she is advertizing all the traditional games and events. Trying to get the moderns to join in must be just draining! No one has time for the old ways anymore, do they? I may just dash over for the festivities this year! It has been an age since I hiked up Dragon Hill. I had hoped to one day She said that Cordie had hopes of gaining permission to sit in on classes at Oxford next year. I wish her luck. She is always asking Gwen to get me to search for books for her. When I have an afternoon to myself, I do browse the bookshops and ask the proprietors after the subject of the month. I sent a packet of them... well they should be there by now. She is a more voracious reader than even you or I! I am glad to help her when I can
At this point, I know you are reading this and saying “Good Lord, Simon, get to the girl!” Well, I am afraid it is not worth the wait. I had hoped to tell you that she reciprocated the affection I told you I have for her. Not so, dear advisor. I did as you said. I spoke to her after a rather disturbing dream I had about a life we might have had together. It started out so idyllic in every way. I was a magistrate in a town not unlike Uffington itself, married to Her. We had two small girls, watched over by a governess. But the townspeople were marching to our home, against Her, for her magikal ways. After speaking with others in the group I am travelling with, I now know this dream/horror was visited upon me by an outside influence (of the Fae kind). When I spoke to Her of this and my admiration for Her, She rejected my affection. She is lady enough that She was very kind in her manner and words. It has since been forcefully brought to my attention that her affections lie in another direction. There is a... sort of servant or perhaps he is a body guard... in the household of Hindi descent. She seems so very taken with him. I suppose I should be jealous, but he is a fine man, strong, wise and loyal. How can I not wish for Her happiness, even if it dashes my own?
It feels much better telling all this to you, Mother, than it did to the dog I found in a barn on our travels. He was most unusual and he had no good advice for me. I know that sounds odd, but for all the world it seemed as though he spoke to me! It did do me good to unload my troubles about Her to him, but I travel with people who attract trouble as flowers attract bees, and he had gone.
I now come to the point in this missive that will make you think I have come unhinged. Perhaps not, perhaps you are having the same visions or delusions as I am. Father has not been visiting you lately, has he? I know, he is under that marker at St. Mary's. However, he has taken to visiting me at all hours of the day and night. Just as onery as he ever was. I am just glad spirits cannot imbibe. Or can they? I just do not have enough knowledge or experience with the occult as yet. Not for lack of trying! Just travelling with this group makes one boggle at times. They do magiks a the drop of a hat, or anything else for that matter! No matter, I am concerned that Father is also bothering you. I think one of the ladies in this group can help me send Father back to wherever he was broiling, but until then please pray I can get him to be helpful instead of a hindrance (old dogs and new tricks, eh?).
I keep you all in my heart and prayers each day,
Your Loving Son,
Simon
PS: Sending a small parcel of books for Cordelia
in Prussian, French and Belgian. It should keep her busy for
a little while anyway! It should arrive two weeks after this
letter, the postal gent here told me.
SM.
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