With Most Gentle Wishes - Chapter 8
The Whirlwind
Author’s Note:
Some of the beautiful things my readers have said about this story:
“they each feel like their own time capsule and I cannot wait to keep reading”
“Slowing down to read this was just what I needed. Thank you. Your work never fails to make me smile.”
“These letters are becoming a favourite past-reading of mine”
“This was so peaceful and lovely after a rough couple of days.”
“Enchanting, as always. I’m finding myself looking forward to these maybe as much as Mabel and Henry are.”
And for these reasons, I will continue to share this story here. I hope they can provide a small amount of comfort.
Dear Henry,
Oh how quickly this week has passed. I have been so busy it almost seems as though one day simply slips into the next. As August draws to a close, I have found myself so hurried with all manner of things which need attending to that I am practically functioning without thought. As I sat to write this afternoon, I did so without realising at all what I was doing, as I had simply been so busy. But now I am here, I am writing, and I have all manner of things to talk to you about, Henry.
As the school is closed for the summer, the children who live in the cottage just down from us have been, as their mother described, ‘manic’. She seemed so overwhelmed by them as I passed by (I am not at all surprised, there are five of them all under the age of ten!) that I simply had to offer a hand. She of course refused at first, but after I insisted I at least allowed her a moment to breathe, she softened and accepted graciously. I minded the children as they played in the garden for an hour, while she attended to the house. Oh, the noise, Henry! I was taken back to our school days, when the twins (was it Edward and Timothy?) would bound about the playground shrieking, as if they had not spent the entire morning getting themselves into all sorts of trouble in the classroom. Do you remember when they were taken home by their father, simply because they were unable to behave? I remember my mother warning me about how best to behave in the classroom. She told me about the punishments they got that evening, and I must say that I was on my best behaviour from that moment onwards.
To say I was exhausted afterwards would be a lie. It was a tiredness so great I could feel it deeply, within my bones. It had been one hour, almost exactly, of chasing them about the garden, of minding them as they climbed trees. It was not merely the physical exertion, but the worries that they may injure themselves, or that they may run too far, or…gosh, how mothers must worry so.
Speaking of exhaustion, Emmeline is suffering greatly as she settles into being a mother. Baby Dot wakes almost hourly, and neither Emmeline nor her husband (John – I do not believe I mentioned him at all in my previous letters…please confirm?) are getting much sleep at all. It does bring into question how one bears being so constantly needed. Emmeline is the sort of person who gives all of herself outward, tending to everyone over herself. This of course is a wonderful thing, but it leaves very little time for inward thought. I do wish she would take care of herself, also.
Still, I have time and space for my own thoughts. I am able to choose how I spend my days, not tied at all to the restraints of another person – despite what you may have been led to believe about marriage. I am free to choose exactly where I place my attention. Might you consider yourself lucky, that I choose to give some of it to you.
I do hope you are not still worrying about being a burden. Writing to you is not at all a chore, it is a simple pleasure of my days. Again, you provided little update of your condition and I would much like to hear how you are fairing, even if it is not positive.
I have realised, just now as I am writing, that I feel more alert when writing than at any other time of the day. Even when completing my domestic duties, I do not possess this level of motivation. What an odd thing, to have more energy when seated and calm than when up and about. I suppose, like always, I simply have a lot to say.
With that in mind, I suppose I have been rambling on for much too long. I did not even manage to write about half of the things I wrote down in my notes this week, so here is a quick list so that you may still be informed. I saw an abnormally large butterfly on Saturday. Arthur is still dragging his heels with the garden, but insists it is his project every time I pull on the gardening gloves. I forgot to put bicarbonate of soda into a cake that was supposed to be for a party, so it turned out rather like a biscuit instead, and the remaking of the cake was a considerable dent in our weekly budget and Arthur was not best pleased – despite finding it incredibly funny.
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.
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