Chapter 41
My darling Frederick,
If I sound out of humor, forgive me. I had hoped to write something light and cheerful to make you smile, but I find myself unequal to the task today.
Rosewood Cottage is proving far more temperamental than I imagined.
Having been empty for some years, every inch has something that requires my attention.
A draft here, a crack there, and no sooner do I mend one thing than another gives way.
The roof leaks in three separate places, so that I must rise in the middle of the night to move the basins about like a general repositioning his troops, and I am so very tired, which doesn’t help in the slightest.
There are moments when I think the house itself is testing me, waiting to see how much I will endure before I yield. I am trying to see the humor in it as you would, but the days have been long, and I am not yet clever enough with tools to make much progress.
The neighbors are polite but little more. They nod and smile, but they do not linger, and I cannot tell whether they fear offending me or being seen speaking with the gently bred lady who looks like a washerwoman. Or perhaps they simply do not know what to do with me.
And matters weren’t helped today when I received word that Mina is unable to visit this spring.
I doubt you will be surprised to learn that Uncle is unhappy with her assisting me (apparently, I ought to be a dutiful daughter and end this rebellion at once), and travel is dear enough that she cannot afford the journey until she can set aside more pin money.
When I grow discouraged, I try to hear your voice.
I try to imagine how you would tease and twit me into seeing the best in this situation, and though it helps, I find it all the more difficult to keep my spirits up when the cottage is locked up for the night, and I am left entirely alone with naught but my thoughts to keep me company.
The truth is that I miss you, and my heart aches to see you.
But I will be better tomorrow.
I always am.
All my love,
Thea