26 October 18—
Haddon Hall, Derbyshire

Dearest Maria,

You are too kind, my friend, to say I am over-harsh in judging myself. Indeed, your thoughtful words have rather shamed me anew: I had ought to have shared my experiences in Town long ago. You are too dear a friend for me to hoard confidences, and I can offer no excuse for my behaviour but that I disliked the memory of those months rather too well for my own good. Do not apologise for drawing me out on the subject, especially as you have done so most unwittingly. Be assured I have benefitted by the sharing of it and allow me to thank you again for your kindness and forebearance with your rather provoking friend.

Allow, as well, this rather provoking friend to comment on your most recent letter: good gracious, what a muddle! As though the Lord Meriwether Situation was not difficult enough, now there is the Carsely Mystery darkening more and more every moment. Maria, I hardly know what to say! Regarding Lord Meriwether, your brother does seem to be much in the wrong, I agree. Even so, I must stand by the sentiments expressed in my last letter. It is Very Bad of my lord not to make any effort to resolve the awkwardness between you, especially as you cannot help but meet in Town.

I am not insisting, sweet friend, that you ought to be angry with him, only please realise the burden of this difficulty is not yours to bear. You cannot resolve it unless Lord Meriwether approaches you! He has not. For which I am quite angry, I confess. How I wish I might lift your spirits on this issue. Instead, I can only offer these words, a listening ear, and my sympathy. I hope your friend ceases his foolishness soon, dearest, and in the meantime, perhaps you might confine your thoughts as best you can to the other muddle in your life.

After reading your descriptions of dinner with great aunt Charlotte, I must declare myself more confused than ever! Plainly, your cousin has no skill at subterfuge—his excuse as flimsy as that slovenly disguise—and so we must conclude that Something Important is indeed going on between himself and Mr Forster. Judging by your brother's reaction to their meeting, we must further conclude that this Something Important is rather out of the common way. Yet, there is still the matter of Mr Forster's encounter with the Aesthete. You told your brother of this, I recall, so the question remains, does he think it relevant to the Gardiner-Forster situation? Further, if he does, pray remember that in that instance it was Mr Forster cringing at Lord Hawthorne's displeasure! Does this mean that Lord Hawthorne is at the heart of our Something Important?

Maria, you fall deeper and deeper into these matters, and I cannot help but worry for you. All the same, I also cannot imagine you standing away from such worrisome family tangles. If you must pursue the Mystery, pray enlist your cousin Mr Swift. I wish I might be there to assist you myself, but perhaps I might be more helpful where I am.

I have taken the liberty of asking my cousin if he knows anything of Mr Forster. Fortunately, he was distracted by the thought of seeing Miss Schellden soon and thus condescended to actually respond. Forster, he said, is a 'pleasant-enough chap' of four-and-thirty, fond of Society and the usual tonnish pursuits, unexceptional really in both lifestyle and history. Of course, Cousin George explained that he is not a member of Forster's set, and so knows very little of the man. After some thought, I've come to the conclusion that I might inquire of Lord Atherton, who is closer in age to Forster, for further information. We are not as yet on such easy terms that I might simply ask, but in the course of my many years as an earl's daughter, I have learned some skills. I shall try to make use of them when we attend the dinner party at Therton Grange this evening.

As I am certain you will have guessed, today's has not been our only visit these past weeks. Cousin George continues as infatuated with Miss Schellden as ever. Indeed, he is making such a cake of himself that Nell has taken to relentlessly commandeering my cousin's attention whenever we pay a call. As for the calls they pay us, why they never seem to fall on a moment when Mr Barton is at home! I imagine this means the lovely miss does not return my cousin's interest, but she has not confided such to me.

Our friendship has continued, even so, and I must say I am still finding her very pleasant company. She is quiet, even a jot shy, but her conversation is interesting with much ease of address. It is only rather difficult to persuade her to discuss herself. So far, I have managed to discover that she detests needlework—sensible woman!—prefers walking to riding—which I can understand, if not agree with—loves the country—I am sure you know my thoughts on this bit of news—and thinks herself merely a mediocre musician. As I have written you before, I thought her quite formidable in this area, having heard and admired her performance on the pianoforte, a skill which I have not at all. But Miss Schellden insists her voice is weak and her playing nothing to that of her brother's.

This, dear friend, is the only information I have on Mr Schellden. If his sister is reluctant to talk about herself, she is utterly incapable of elaborating on him. I only managed this little bit by a slip of Miss Schellden's obedient tongue. When I exclaimed, all delighted, 'Your brother plays the pianoforte!' she merely nodded and immediately turned the subject. I believe that as she becomes more comfortable with me, she might drop another glimpse or two of this brother, but I must say I hope she finds me comfortable soon! I am become very, very curious.

No doubt you are laughing now, imagining your silly friend pinning her matrimonial hopes on an absent, mysterious man whose name we both find familiar but cannot recognise. And truly, you know me far too well! I try very hard, my dear, to rein in my romantical tendencies, but I never quite manage to succeed. And well you know, I am absent prospects in the neighbourhood—as the assembly held at last in Rowsley only proved. And after my experience last Season, you can imagine how little I am looking forward to hunting the ton once more for a suitable parti. If this Mr Schellden is even a fraction as pleasant as his sister, I should be very happy indeed.

Only imagine both Cousin George and myself riding everyday to worship at our loved ones' feet! Two cakes a'horseback!

And now that you are laughing again, I shall leave you,

As ever,
Isabele Fitzwalter