Angria [4]

Dear Grace,

     There are so many things to say and my hand aches when I think of writing it all down for you.  However, my hand is inexcusably drawn to pen and paper and so I will attempt to answer your questions and provide you with a better picture of the people who are currently my only distraction in Angria.  If only you were here.  I feel as though the most important thing to convey to you is the state of my relationship with Mr. Hollyfield.  Therefore, I shall focus this letter on that, and tomorrow write another to bring you up to date on the small group I have been getting to know.

      As you stated in your letter, Mr. Hollyfield and I had become quite attached before your departure in December.  I did fancy myself in love with him, and I am not surprised the gentleman still believes himself to be in love with me.  However, and of this I am sure, Mr. Hollyfield and I are two different types of people.  We love differently and need to be loved differently.

      If I were to see the gentleman again I have no doubt that the feelings I have worked very hard to repress would emerge again.  No doubt you think I have lost my senses.  How could I possibly convey to you this feeling?  There was not some one moment in which I stopped loving him, or realized I did not truly love him, it was a gradual realization which arose from many visits, outings, and talks.  No, I do love him.  But I love him as a brother and a friend, not as a husband.  I am not in love with Mr. Hollyfield.  Perhaps if I would share with you our last conversation some of your curiosity would be satisfied.

     We were indeed walking into the garden of your home arm in arm.  We were discussing you and George as we crunched the crisp snow that was beneath us.  A garden in winter is not so beautiful as a garden in spring, you know.  And on we walked for many minutes until he turned to me, "Abagail," he started, "You must know how I feel about you.  And I believe you feel the same way towards me.  I think it is time we consider--"
     "Please don't Mr. Hollyfield," I interrupted.  You see, at this point I had already come to understand my feelings.  "You and I have indeed become very close lately, but I think any further you go on the same subject will just end in regret."

     "Regret?  Are you telling me you do not love me?"

     "I do love you, Mr. Hollyfield, but not in the way you are speaking of.  I love you as one loves a sibling.  I did not at first, perhaps, but you have become my guide and my guardian."  I turned to face him and lifted my hand to his unshaven face.  "You mean the world to me, and I would hate to lose you.  But I cannot be completely yours in the way that a wife would.  And I am very sorry for it.  I do think though, that in time, you will realize you view me as a sister, and that you would be unhappy with me for a wife."

     He pulled away from me and walked a few steps away.  I know he was very unhappy with me, perhaps I had been too honest.   Perhaps I should have kept my eyes on the ground and batted my eyes to show my agitation.  But I wanted him to know that I did care for him and that I wanted to know him in the future as I knew him then.  I walked over to him, "James," I said as I wrapped my hand in his.

   But he jerked his hand away from mine, "You do not have the privilege of addressing me so informally Ms. Lovelace."  He started to walk out of the garden but stopped himself right before the gate, "I appreciate your honesty," it was said in a very unappreciative manner, Grace.  "But I do not think my feelings for you are the same as yours for me and I doubt that they ever shall be united.  I had already planned on returning home on the morrow and shall not delay.  Your answer was not what I thought it would be.  Perhaps we shall meet again."

     And he walked away.  I have not seen or heard from him since.  I am glad to know that he was asking after me though, it gives me hope that our friendship may be mended.  And when I stated earlier, that if I saw him my feelings for him would once again emerge, it is because though I love him as a brother, I can see him as a man.  And he is a very attractive man.  It would be best for me, for both of us, if we met again under restricted circumstances.  Like perhaps one of us being engaged.  I wish you would tell him that I am well and I hope he is well also.

     I look forward to hearing from you and mama sends love.  Again.

       Abagail Lovelace

March 1

Angria [3]

My darling Abby,

     I know you have been waiting for my response but I have only just returned to my new house.  We are currently in the process of unloading everything but when I received your letters upon my arrival, I couldn't resist writing you for long.  Send my greetings to your mother, I know she may not be your preferred company, but she is such a loving woman that I can't help but love her in return.  In answer to your question, about remembering my home, I assure you that there is nothing that could possibly induce me to forget that haven.  George and I are getting along famously and I look forward to making this place my new home --He just passed and tells me to send well wishes your way.

    On another note, I feel your pain, perhaps doubled.  It is terribly difficult to experience so many new things and not have my dearest friend by my side to share it all with.  When I have more time, I will write to you about all I have seen, but as I am currently in the middle of starting my new life, I shall only ask you a few questions and encourage you to continue writing me.

    First, I must ask about this soldier who came into your life recently, Zambrano?  What has happened to dear Mr. Hollyfield?  Does not distance make the heart grow fonder?  When I last saw you, you were on his arm walking into the garden.  I thought for sure that a proposal was about to be offered.  I must confess that I have recently seen the man himself.  He lives very near this place and George and I took the liberty of calling there before continuing on our way here.  He asked many questions concerning you and I had to work very hard to conceal my surprise.  Surely, I thought, if not engaged you two would be writing.  SO let me just encourage you to seriously consider your prospects.  Hollyfield is a handsome man and in possession of quite a fortune.  I know little of this Zambrano, other than his station, and I do not believe you know much of him either.  I just want to make sure, Abagail, that you are not falling in love with the idea of the man, rather than the man himself.  But enough lecture, I do hope you forgive me.

     I am quite enjoying hearing about this quaint little party. My second question concerns Clarissa.  I am just wondering, is she a handsome woman?  I imagine that she must be.  You spoke of fine clothes and wealth so I'm sure that she has been given very many opportunities to make herself presentable.  I dislike the woman very much and like you am very shocked by the Captain's reception of her.  Seems to me like they would make a fine couple, and should leave everyone else, as soon as possible, and live in seclusion.

     I hope Catherine is not taking their flirting too hard.  I am sure that she can find better than this rake.  She seems like a dear and I do wish I could have met her.  Does she say much though?  Or is she really as timid as meek as Clarissa paints her to be. 

     Tell the Musgroves I am well, if you would be so kind, and less with your sarcasm would be nice.  I too wait for the day when we are reunited, Abby, which, If I have my way, will be soon and under my new roof.  I would love for you to see the town and perhaps we will pay a visit to Mr. Hollyfield...  Keep me updated and I shall keep you as well.

  

All my love, and George's,

    Grace Wilson

P.S. No, I do not much prefer Mrs. Wilson to Grace.  Feel free to continue addressing me by my Christian name, and I shall pay you the same respect, Miss Lovelace.

Angria [2]

Hello once again my sweet Grace,
    Once more I extend all my well wishes to you and anxiously await news of how you are.  As I mentioned in my previous letter, mama and I had received another invitation from the Musgroves.  This invitation was for two days ago however, and I am sure you are curious as to why I am only writing to you now.  This is because I felt I needed time to gather my thoughts on these proceedings and I wished to tell you about the day as objectively as possible.  Something I felt I could not do so soon after the party met.  Indeed I am very eager to tell you all, but I must calm myself and remember to start from the beginning.
    At around one in the afternoon Miss Musgrove, or Anna rather, I don't know why I have been penning her name so formally--forgive me I diverge.  Around one Anna, Catherine, and Clarissa found their way to my home and invited me to picnic with them in lieu of visiting at the hall.  I immediately went to mama and begged her approval which she graciously bestowed.  Our walk was brief for they had planned already on going to the meadow near your parent's estate, if you still are able to recall that place.  My companions informed me that the gentlemen would be joining us as soon as they were finished with their sport, which I looked forward to for I sincerely prefer male company to female, except you, of course.
    Anna and Catherine began to prepare the picnic, which was not to start without the gentleman, and Clarissa took me by the arm and asked me to take her on a little tour of the area.  During this walk she conveyed to me the innermost desires of her heart, or what I assume to be her heart. "Abagail," she began, "Tell me, what exactly do you think of Captain Dashwood?"
    "For sure he seems to be a charming man, but I have only met him once and cannot, therefore, be a very good judge."  Believing that she probably preferred to hear nothing of my opinion but merely asked me in order to voice her own, I continued, "But what do you think of him?  For you are living under the same roof as he is and are sure to have a better understanding of his complete person."
    Here she smiled and condescendingly lightly squeezed my hand.  This may seem not objective but I assure you I felt almost degraded at this moment.  And very much like a child.  "You are quite right, Abagail," she told me.  "I am sure I do know much more about him than you.  And I think him very handsome, to begin with.  Often, you know, when you meet military men they are missing an arm or a leg or some other important body part, but Dashwood's features are all very comely and held together well.  He's not wealthy, as you may have concluded on your own," which if you remember correctly I did, "but I have more than enough money to see us well taken care of.  But oh," here Clarissa paused dramatically and with a deep sigh continued, "Abagail!  I cannot truly tell if I have any affection for the man.  Often when we are engaged in conversation, or I catch him gazing at me across the room, I turn to Catherine to see how it stings her."
      At this point she turned to me in expectation of some immediate response.  However, I was quite at a loss, I did not know how to begin.  And so she continued again, "Oh!  You must think me an awful woman!  But I am not.  Truly, what is a little competition between cousins?  You did know Catherine and I are cousins, did you not?"  No I did not know, "And honestly, how can she expect to catch such a strong man when she is so meek and timid.  I am completely myself and I seem to draw him in.  Poor Catherine, sometimes I wonder if she will ever find a husband for she doesn't know how to work men."
    Well, I also wonder now if Catherine will ever find a husband.  With a woman like Clarissa near me at all hours I would not expect to find a husband myself.  However, I knew I must abstain from censure so I searched for a plain response, "Oh well, yes.  A woman does have to make some sort of effort if she hopes of securing a man."
    She ran wild with this.  "That is exactly what I have told her, Abagail!  You are a woman after my own heart.  I knew when I met you that I needn't fear you would be similar to Catherine.  You hold yourself too proudly with your nose at just the right angle to be so foolish."  Might I interject here, Grace?  Do you believe me to hold my nose at any particular angle?  Because I truly do not believe I do and Clarissa has made me feel like a haughty woman which I never strive to be.  Indeed if I were a woman after her own heart I should pity myself prodigiously, as I pity Dashwood for having any opinion of her at all.
    Needless to say the conversation ran on like this until we returned to the others.  She chattered incessantly about how to keep hold of a man and make sure he did not go chasing after other women.  I responded with short answers that most would understand as being not interested in the conversation.  However, my murmured responses did not faze her in the slightest.  When we reached the picnic I sat down near Catherine and closed my eyes, for we have had lovely weather lately, a nice warm temperature with a nice cool breeze stirring our treetops.  Before much conversation was able to pass between the four of us the gentlemen arrived.
    Dashwood met our group first, being ahead of the other men, perhaps because he is so athletic.  He certainly looks very athletic.  He sat down between Clarissa and Catherine.  Mr. Musgrove and Mr. Zambrano arrived next.  They seemed to be in deep contemplation of a certain bird and what its name might or might not have been.  They sat near Anna, which is understandable since she is Mr. Musgrove's daughter, so I shall not take offense to Zambrano not sitting near me.  Mr. Heaton arrived quite after the rest looking rather unhappy.  It was my privilege to have him sit near me and I was lucky enough to become engrossed by his tale of losing his prey earlier that day.  I nodded silently and divided my time between watching Zambrano and watching Dashwood.  There is not much to report on Zambrano sadly, but there is quite a report to be given on Dashwood.
    As I stated earlier, he made it a certain point to sit between Clarissa and Catherine.  He could have sat on the other side of Clarissa, or on the other side of Catherine, but he chose the middle, which I think says quite a bit.  But then, after having a few snacks, Clarissa addressed him thus, "Captain Dashwood, what is it you think of my darling cousin?"  She gave a foul smile to Catherine and turned her attention back to the captain.
   Dashwood started at such a question, which I thought was fitting for it was quite an inappropriate question and as you may imagine Catherine's cheeks had turned quite red with embarrassment.  However, the captain did venture to make a response which was not so worthy, "Catherine is a very fine girl indeed," he said.  "She has got a lovely head and a fine personality.  She shall have no problems attracting men," as he said this Dashwood looked directly at Catherine and winked!  I still cannot believe he had the gall to do so.  Do you see, Grace, that he is leading them both on?  I thought it was perhaps just Clarissa who was to be dismissed as a flirt but clearly it is not.  And worse, I think Dashwood is using Catherine to make Clarissa jealous.  Poor Catherine, if I have ever caused a fellow woman as much pain as Clarissa has caused Catherine than I think I would deserve to burn.
      Clarissa replied, "Is that truly what you think, sir?  For I have heard from others that they would have nothing to do with her.  And would prefer a more outspoken woman who was confident in herself."  She smiled smugly at Dashwood as if knowing for a fact that she was more preferable than Catherine.  Though I would not give her my preference for the world.
     At this point the trio had quite attracted the attention of the entire group and upon hearing Clarissa's last words I addressed Catherine and asked her if she would like to take a stroll with me.  She readily agreed and we left the scene silently.  However, I feel it incumbent for me to say that I left Mr. Heaton quite angry and not long after we had taken five steps quick footsteps were heard behind us and I turned to find, to my surprise, dear Zambrano.  He smiled politely at me and continued our stroll with us.  Our party did not say much for we were all, I'm sure, quite astounded by what had just happened.  I did notice however, after our departure, that Clarissa had moved closer to Dashwood and he seemed to be whispering secrets into her ear.
    And thus was the picnic.  I returned home and told mama that we had all had a wonderful time.  I then took myself to the library, opened a book, and pretended to amuse myself while I contemplated my new acquaintances.  I am not sure I want to spend any more time with the group at all, you know, and may consider rejecting the next invitation, if I am to receive one.  And you can imagine, I'm sure, how I passed the next day in solitude with only mother to entertain me.  As I've said before it is quite awful to not have you here with me, by my side at every moment.  But I shall pass the hours away by dreaming of a time when we will be united again.  Give my best to George, which I believe I forgot to mention in my last.

Thinking of you often,
   Abagail Lovelace

February 25 

Angria [1]

Dearest Grace,
    Or perhaps Mrs. Wilson would be a more appealing greeting for you now.  Though I must say that your new name is not nearly so pleasing to me.  I do wish to have you to myself again and by my side.  These past three months have been a torment for me, having lost my most intimate companion.  If only I had been blessed with siblings, or a more social aspect so as to be capable of making other friends.
    I do hope, however, that you are fitting in well with your new abode and town.  I'm sure you shall never find another friend as dear as me, but I do hope the women there are welcoming and lovely.  I so often hear rumors that the ladies in town are not nearly so pleasant as ourselves.  I hope for your sake these rumors are false.  I also hope that your wedding tour was pleasing and that your darling George was kind and attentive to all of your needs.  When you have a spare moment I do desire you to write me in detail about every second.  I long to live vicariously through you.
    Though you are gone and life has been lonely, I must admit that there has recently been some added entertainment in our modest neighborhood.  The ever-charming Mr. Musgrove invited a party consisting of four men and two ladies to spend the remainder of winter with him at Wildfell Hall.  This, as I am sure you can conclude, has caused much discussion amongst us all.  On this Thursday past, Miss Musgrove extended to mother and I an invitation to join them all for dinner.  It was readily accepted and I assure you they were quite a lovely party.  The two women were fashionable and each very accomplished.  The first, and first because she is the eldest, is named Clarissa Uldaman, and she is to inherit quite a fortune when her father passes.  Mind you, she did not tell me this.  For that would indeed be quite an inappropriate conversation for a first meeting.  However, I have heard that she had an enormous inheritance and from her rich clothing and style I am ready to believe it.
    The second lady is roughly our age and she is very charming.  Her name is Catherine Heaton and she, like us, expects no large fortune unless she is lucky enough to marry into it, which you have proved to be possible.   However, I don't think Catherine will be marrying into money for she seems to be quite enthralled by the handsome Captain Dashwood who is a military man and not likely to come into any amount of excessive wealth.  He is the third guest of Mr. Musgrove and unfortunately for Catherine, seems quite taken by Clarissa.  Whether it be for her beauty, her talents, or her money, I could not say as of yet.
    The fourth of this party is an older man, I would place him close to forty.  He is Mr. Heaton, brother of Catherine, and he has a rather smug aspect about him and is very quiet.  Throughout dinner he said perhaps five words: "Pass the butter," and "Thank you."  But perhaps he is just a nervous man and doesn't feel open enough to share with us his true personality.  Either way he watched Clarissa very closely while I was there and looked quite jealous whenever Captain Dashwood gave too much attention to her.  I think this Clarissa is used to having men fight over her though.  She was very collected and split her attention between the two men equally.
    The last man was a military man as well.  Perhaps I have saved him for last because he has quickly become my favorite of the group.  His name is Henry Zambrano and he is a good friend of the Captain.  He was a quiet man, though far more talkative than Mr. Heaton.  He spoke only when he seemed to have something to add to the conversation, he was not a frivolous speaker, and you know how I quite despise those people. But on to his looks, which drew my attention quickly.  He is blessed with beautiful golden tresses that he keeps tied back and dark blue eyes with which he seems to watch everyone and everything they do.  I am afraid I may become quite infatuated with him, which of course would be a poor thing, for he is in the military and the only way to make money in the military seems to be to die.
    But mama has received another invitation from them for tomorrow and I look forward to learning more about them all.  Mr. Musgrove did, of course, ask how you were.  I told him you had not written me, for you have been too busy with being a good and satisfying wife.  I look forward to seeing you sometime in the future and do long to hear from you soon.  Do not however, separate yourself from any moment of happiness on my account.  Wait until you have had quite enough of the opposite sex and then feel free to come complain to me.    It is likely I shall write again soon and not wait for your response.

   All my love,
     Abagail Lovelace

February 22