Book 2 - Chapter 3 - Correspondence

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2.03.1 - Rosamunda's Letter

From the point of view of the village gossips, Whitsun week is about to improve with the vicarious but doubtful pleasure of knowing the exact contents of certain letters.  The first being from Miss Rosamunda to her brother.  Fortunately, the weird girl who ‘duz fer th'wicar’ is both able to read and has that opportunity while standing half behind her master's chair pouring his mid-morning chocolate - the missive in question running thus:

Belle Vale House,
Bedford Place,
London.
Monday

My Dearest Brother,

  Sir Marcus's London house is a fine example of the sort of town-house, we so admired on that trip to Bath in the West Country.  It has a tall double fronted elevation in the middle of a delightfully fashionable terrace very close to Russell Square.  There are mews to the rear with sufficient space for both the carriage and the brougham, but the horses have separate residence at a nearby ostlers.
  The journey was a delight, if a little bumpy as far as Norwich, where Marcus received great respect from the manager at Gurney's Bank and sweet Miss Roberts joined our party.  Thereafter, the state of the roads was not such as to satisfy our villager friend George, who would have been at them by nines with his bucket and shovel as soon as they fouled his eye.
  Newmarket was at last achieved by dusk of the Saturday, and we stayed the night at the Rutland Arms, a fine inn with a courtyard.  As I had been promised, the town, renowned for it's race-course, was full of delightful horses, to one of which, Marcus introduced me.  It was the dam of my fine new filly, which I shall sorely miss until our return to Mardlingham, as I shall yourself, dear brother.

Your Loving Sister, Rosamunda.

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2.03.2 - The Vicars Reply

When you arrive in a new place after an exhausting journey, as Rosamunda did at the weekend, the first letter written home may well fail to tell the recipient anything they actually want to know.  As can be seen from the vicar's reply, his sister's was no exception:

Little Mardlingham,
Vicarage House,
County of Norfolk.
Tuesday

Rosamunda, my dear,

  I am most pleased that Sir Marcus's London house seems to meet with your preliminary approval and has such ideal facilities for vehicles of an horse-drawn nature.  Moreover, I was delighted to hear of the first two legs of your journey and how they passed off with so little discomfort and none of the anguish of travel, I know you to have suffered in the past.  It is also gratifying to hear of the respect Sir Marcus received at Gurney's Bank, which is only to be expected.  Furthermore, I am delighted that the ancestry of your new mount is now known to you.
  However, you do not mention the one part of the journey, that already has Mardlingham a-buzz with rumour, and that is the terrifying event which is said to have befallen your party in the wildness of the heathland beyond Newmarket.  I only know from the receipt of your brief missive, that you seem to have survived, but in what state, I hesitate to imagine.  I await your reply in trepidation.

May His Blessing be upon you and all in your company,
Your Reverend Brother, Cedric.

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2.03.3 - Rosamundas Response

Anybody who has had experience of a large organisation, lived in a village or its urban equivalent, will know how quickly news travels.  Tracking down the course of the relevant river of gossip is not always easy, especially where eavesdropping and other covert practices are involved.  However, Rosamunda is not the only letter writer in the London party, Sir Marcus's village coachman, Charles has a fine hand at copperplate and his son, Ted has the skill to read his father's handwriting, if nothing else.  Ted, being in Mardlingham and also being a considerably earlier riser than the vicar, met the post boy as he entered the village, thus he was able to pass on news of the more startling side of Sir Marcus's journey to London, which Rosamunda had been holding back, but now explores in full:

Belle Vale House,
Bedford Place,
London.
Wednesday

My Dearest Brother,

  I sit here struck almost dumb by your letter.  What mode of divination or prophetic vision has unveiled those events that I sought to suppress?  Pray forgive my arrogance, that I should have tried to protect you from such anguish as our highway adventure might engender, when greater powers take it upon themselves to reveal all.
  Suffice it to say, that at no time did we seem to be in any real danger, not with Sir Marcus and his men popping off their guns like a day at the shoot.  The first we knew of the event, which happened on the sandy track that serves as the London road beyond Newmarket, was a group of wildly prancing and heavily mufflered horsemen approaching across the heath.
  My brave Sir Marcus immediately dropped the window-glass and shouted ‘Footpads’ although I could see that, in reality, they were highwaymen of the first order.  Our men on the footboards of both carriages, at once began a brisk fire with the scattergun and horse-pistols, which caused the marauders to turn aside.
  Unfortunately, our men having to reload, the ‘Turpins’ again swerved in our direction.  However, it was then that the true value of dear Miss Roberts, my new friend and companion, came to light.  Apparently, she had in her reticule, a large handgun of American origin, given to her by her brother who had journeyed in those parts, which gun she discharged from the carriage window.  On receipt of this shot, one of the highwaymen fell from his mount and another was thrown.
  Thus with the ungodly severely discommoded we were able to continue in God's peace.  Being familiar with my resilient nature, you will know that such adventures serve only to stimulate the rosiness of my cheeks, so please do not take any time to worry on my behalf.  I trust all is well with yourself and our dear village, such a contrast to the rattle we have here in the great capital of our Empire.

Your Loving Sister, Rosamunda.

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2.03.4 - Missive from Marcus

With so much to be done, London having milliners and dressmakers of a complexity not found in Mardlingham, nor even Norwich, Rosamunda and Miss Roberts have escaped their male companion.  Sir Marcus, having become quite dizzy at his belle's sudden disclosure of rather more in the way of cosmopolitan values than he was expecting, seeks the quiet of his London Gentlemen's Club, where he pens this letter:

WHITE'S CLUB,

An excellent retreat
for Gentlemen,
St. James,
London.

Tuesday.

My dear Perry,
  I am writing this to express my admiration for your splendid execution of our little jape upon the heath.  Miss Rosamunda was greatly excited by the seeming hazzard of all our lives and the stirling defence to be had from yours truly and his merry men.  It is seriously misfortunate that one of our party, namely a Miss Roberts, Rosamunda's companion, proved to be such a fine shot.
  As my last sight of your fallen braves was their rising with much abusive caterwauling, I trust her shooting was not fine enough to have done them any permanent damage.
  Secrecy being so important to our escapade, I had not forewarned Miss Roberts on the grounds that she, like my Rosamunda, was but a part of the audience.  It was with no little surprise, that as we wheeled the Brougham back to support the carriage, I saw her in classic pose at the carriage window with sights laid and an enormous revolver barking fire.  Had not the recoil been so great, and for her somewhat unexpected, I fear she would have spun out the full set of chambers upon you.
  Perhaps you will disperse among your minions, a fair division of the value of my note on Gurney's Bank (enclosed herewith), as a reward for wounds so honourably received.

Your sincere friend and
fellow jacanapes,
Marcus.

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2.03.5 - Perry Replies

With cousins like Peregrine, Sir Marcus can never feel really safe in the bosom of his family.  The more we meet of them, the more we appreciate that our Lord of the Mardlingham Manor may not actually be the worst apple in the Haugh-Wells barrel.  Perry Haugh, naturally enough is on the penniless aristocratic side.

Poste Restante,  The Post Office,
St. Andrew Street,  Cambridge.
Wednesday.

My dear Marcus,
  Around me at The Pickerel Inn, as I write, the small ale and porter flows at your expense, finding its way to the gullets of my three fine braves, as the claret so easily does to mine.  Fortunately none will spill from shot holes, which is most serendipitous, considering the calibre of your Miss Robert's artillery.
  Had we known that such canon were to be ranged against us, we might well have found ourselves a more convivial party.  As it is Seb has a fine scorch mark across his saddle, like a laying on of the Devil's tail.  He was most fortunate not to be in it at the time, his horse having already spooked at the Amazon's apparition in the carriage window.
  So, with your promissory note sold to the landlord here, we shall be hard put to drink it dry before midnight, despite his derisory rate of exchange.  Tomorrow the college again requires our attendance, though shall we comply or no, I fail to predict.
  Prey join us here for a night of jollity in Cambridge on the occurrence of your return to Norfolk.  I promise we shall comport ourselves worthy of your lady's company, although we reserve the right to cower in awe before her sharp-shooting companion.

Ever your true friend,
Perry

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2.03.6 - Homnibus or Charabang

With his sister and her beau away in London, the Little Mardlingham vicar has returned his attention to the promotion of improved health, more morality and a little happiness among his parishioners.  His latest assay in this direction, a mass trip to the seaside, will require suitable transport.  Naturally, he has delegated the problem to the experts, Boy Jimma and Buxum Bea:

(Letter 1 of 2)

 
Over the Arch,
Brewry Yard,
Barack Strete,
Norich.
Wedensdy.

Dere Miss Beatruss,
  Tha brewer's hajent, hevin bin receepted of yor letter and the remitunses inclosed, hev made awailuble the dray upon wich can be set sich benches as to conwert it to a homnibuss or sharabang.  As drayman it wul bee my duty to drive from Norwich to Mardlinum set upon such conweyunce and frum tha to Croma Spa and thus hum to Norwich wia Mardlinum yet agin.
  Orl as agrede atween you and the hajent on beharve of the wicar.  You shud espect fust arriwal by nitefall on fridy, for the conweniance of been away betimes on satdy mornin.

Your frend and dutiful sarvent,
Jimmy.
 
 
 

(Letter 2 of 2)

 
The Vicarage
Little Mardlingham,
Thursday.

Dear James,
  Being in receipt of your Wednesday letter, passed to me from the inn, I beg your indulgence that I should prepare this reply on behalf of myself and your dear friend Miss Beatrice.
  The arrangements you specify will suit admirably and we in Mardlingham look forward in pleasant anticipation to the forthcoming daytrip to the seaside.
  I have it on good authority that Cromer is a fine place, with a tall church and a bathhouse in addition to invigourating beaches and good stabling for your horses.
  We are currently hoping that certain expectations of a clemancy in the weather as predicted by our mutual friend George, will prove correct.  However, I shall not stint in my prayers for his rectitude in this matter.

Yours truly and with all appropriate blessings,
Rev. C. W. Jimpson (Vicar).

P.S.   Miss Beatrice asks me to append her best regards.
 
 

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