The Letters of Her Mother to ElizabethTrowbridge, W. R. H. (William Rutherford Hayes)
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The Letters of Her Mother to Elizabeth
Trowbridge, W. R. H. (William Rutherford Hayes)
Epistolary fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction
{_Lady Ann Fairfax_}
Lady Ann Fairfax, the _Daily Sensation's_ War correspondent, is also
stopping at Braxome Towers. She told me that she had been through three
sieges, and never felt happier than when "sniping," whatever that may
be. She lived three months in a bomb-proof shelter on quarter rations,
was once taken prisoner, and when exchanged was sent through the lines
barefoot and with only a blanket round her. She is bringing out a book
to be called "What I have been through," and I shall certainly buy it.
She is rather pretty and dresses beautifully, and is very amusing; you
could listen to her for hours; her stories are like shilling shockers,
with a bit of Henty thrown in to give them style. She was quite breezy,
and I was sorry when Lady Beatrice shouted triumphantly, "Six love, Mr.
Frame!" and came up puffing like a porpoise, her hair soppy on the
temples and gutters on her cheeks.
Lady Beatrice was in an awfully good humour, for Mr. Frame beat the
Somerset champion last week, but, poor man! he would not dare to even
dream of beating Lady Beatrice. She only suffers him to eat her
cucumber sandwiches and drink her Mazawattee for the pleasure of beating
him.
The drive home in the twilight was very pleasant. I brought Captain
Bennett of the Coldstreams and the Earl of Mortimer as far as the Club
in Taunton. They are playing for Gloucester, but, as I dislike cricket
as much as you do, I shan't go to see the match. I know my frock was
admired at Braxome to-day; poor Mr. Frame, who sat and ate ices near me
after his thrashing, would never meet my glance directly, and I
overheard Lady Beatrice tell Mrs. Beverley Fruit that I spent altogether
too much on dress, while Lady Beatrice always looks as if she considered
the expenditure of a five-pound note on her person an extravagance.
Dear, dear Paquin!
{_The Missing Handkerchief_}
I am awfully provoked with myself, the lace handkerchief I wore to-day
is missing. I am sure it was in my hand when we left Braxome, for I
remember sniffing "parfum d'Arabie" in the carriage. It is really quite
provoking.--Your dearest Mamma.
* * * * *
{_The Handkerchief Found_}
_P. S._--I have just received a note from Captain Bennett saying he
found my handkerchief sticking to his coat when he got into the Club,
and asking if he may restore it to me in person to-morrow.
LETTER III
MONK'S FOLLY, 1st August
DEAREST ELIZABETH:
{_A Mature Young Man_}
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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