With Most Gentle Wishes - Chapter 2

Author’s Note:

I cannot believe the response to the first instalment of ‘With Most Gentle Wishes’ - your kind comments mean the world to me! These letters are a story which I hold dearly, have cradled close to my heart for a while. I have never written a fictional piece before (except for when I was nine, and wrote and illustrated a sequel to Jack and the Beanstalk) and so sharing this here feels incredibly vulnerable. Your support means more than you know.

Dear Henry,

It brings me such joy to know my letter was a comfort to you and I am delighted that your response was so prompt, especially given your condition. I confess, I cannot help but grin at how easily writing you comes. It’s as though we are children again, chattering away on our walk home from school. I am sure you remember how infrequently I would stop talking and I can only apologise that my rambling nature is also reflected in my writing.

I am awfully sorry to hear that you are confined entirely to your bed. I wonder whether you are weakened by the illness itself or if you are being kept at rest in order to hasten your recovery. Illnesses such as your pneumonia are not something I am at all knowledgeable about. I suffered a particularly severe bout of influenza last winter and I make no exaggeration when I say that I could scarcely move from my bed. Arthur was obliged to undertake all of the cooking, and to bring each of my meals to me there. Even in my condition, I could not help but smile at the sight of him attempting the duties of a wife! I must say though, it was rather becoming, seeing a gentleman in that role. I do hope that someone is attending to you with the same care.

I am not surprised in the slightest that you remember the types of birds we spotted by the creek. You always were remarkably clever, identifying insects and gathering berries for us to eat, confident they would not poison us. How much trust I must have placed in you, Henry, to eat something I did not even know the name of. I still have never tasted a fruit quite like it - not a cherry nor a blackberry has been so cheek-pinchingly sour, yet delightfully sweet, in quite the same way. And before you suggest it, yes, I have left them in the sun to warm, and no it is absolutely not the same.

Henry, I did not mean any criticism at all in mentioning your absence from my mother’s service. It is entirely understandable and, while I accept your explanation, providing one was not necessary at all. That you would not accept payment from Emmeline for the floral arrangements at the church was an honourable gesture - one that I cannot thank you deeply enough for, and one which I know my mother would have scolded you for while pressing the payment into your hands. It seems there is much that Emmeline has not told me. I suppose that is to be expected when one lives at a distance from home.

You are right, that my marriage to Arthur was a small affair. We were married in the church just outside of his hometown of Stotely, so that his grandmother might attend. The service was only attended by our closest family, and the celebrations afterwards were held in his grandmother’s garden, just a short walk from the church. Arthur’s mother spent many hours the day prior preparing sandwiches and small cakes so that we could enjoy a simple tea in celebration. I was able to purchase a special dress, too, which added greatly to the occasion. It was very charming. I do wish you could have been there.

And to answer your question, the life of a wife is by no means dull. There are responsibilities, of course, but the house is peaceful while Arthur is at work, and I often have the pleasure of enjoying days ordered entirely to my own design. I am able to practice my baking, and I will have you know that my white country loaf improves with each attempt. I even carried a loaf to church last week, as a gift for the vicar. He received it with great appreciation.

I shall see that you receive your flowers - modest chamomile, chosen for their usefulness rather than for display, of course. I wonder, do you truly know how to prepare them for tea, or are you merely fond of the blooms and seeking a polite excuse to receive them?

With most gentle wishes,
Mabel Harrington

If you wish to further immerse yourself in the world of Mabel and Henry, you can do so here, on my ever-growing Pinterest board.