With Most Gentle Wishes - Chapter 6

Author’s note:

I am having so much fun reading all your thoughts on the story so far - especially those beginning to question certain aspects of the story! I know the story so far feels very simple, cosy, and just one side of a very warming friendship, but I promise you that the smallest details will become important later. You’ll see!

Dear Henry,

I must apologise for my delay in writing to you, though I promise the reason for it is a happy one. My younger sister, Emmeline, has at last had her baby, an absurdly small little girl. They have not yet settled upon her name, and so for the moment she is being called Baby Dot, which suits her well enough. When Emmeline first thought her time was near, she insisted that I come to her at once, despite the fact that the doctor and the village nurses were already present. Arthur arranged my journey by horse and cart with great efficiency, though I cannot pretend I was grateful for how quickly they managed it. I should much rather have arrived too late than precisely when I did. It was the most mortifying experience I have yet known, and I cannot imagine how women bear it more than once. You may be very glad, Henry, that as a gentleman you will never be required to witness such a thing at all.

Of course, in the days following the delivery, I have been quite taken up with helping to keep the house in order, as well as tending to Emmeline and little Dot. Emmeline’s cottage has felt very near bursting, what with so many people coming and going, though she is grateful for every hand offered, however cramped the rooms may be. The organisation of the household has been very much up to me. You will not be surprised to hear that this suited me perfectly well. I found myself setting things to rights, arranging cupboards and linens where there had been little order before, and rather enjoying the business of making sense of another person’s disorder.

Emmeline, too, has needed more than practical help. She is anxious, as new mothers so often are, and there is a great deal of sitting, reassuring, and simply being present. It is a curious thing, to move so quickly from one set of duties to another, to leave my own home as a wife, and find myself at once a sister, and something like a nurse besides. I think the change weighs more heavily upon Emmeline than upon me, and yet I cannot help noticing how readily one’s time is claimed, how easily it is reshaped by the needs of others. I suppose that is no great revelation, only one more thing to be learned by living.

The contrast of finally sitting down to read your correspondence, and to craft my reply, is quite stark against the hurried nature of the past week or two. I do hope you have been comfortable in the meantime, and that your condition continues, if slowly, to improve. I was glad to hear that the Doctor has visited you once again, though my offer to write to Doctor Jameson on your behalf still stands, should you wish it.

I know you wrote that you have not yet felt strong enough to venture outdoors, and I would not have you attempt more than you are able. Still, I hope that perhaps you might manage a little sunlight at the window, or a few moments seated by an open door, if the day is kind. Even such small allowances can make one feel less entirely confined, and I should be glad to imagine you warmed by the afternoon light, rather than shut away from it altogether. There is no hurry in such things, Henry, only patience, and the hope that strength will return in its own time.

I hope you will write again when you feel able. Until then, take care of yourself in all the small ways that are within reach, and do not think yourself neglectful for resting when rest is required. I am glad to have a place for your letters among my days, and I trust you know you are thought of kindly, and without any expectation beyond your comfort and recovery.

With most gentle wishes,
Mabel Harrington

P.S: I very nearly forgot to thank you for identifying my tree. I was certain you would be able to. Thank you, Henry.

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