Pleasant tidings, Lady Morgan Elizabeth Somers: Countess of Spencer,
To begin, I shall correct a few misgivings from the last correspondence. I spoke of a thaw that has proven itself false. Snow still greets our countryside view. The commonfolk and peasants are especially vocal in their displeasure. They make comments of cobalt orbs to mean the late spring has stifled their anticipations…whate’er that means. Even with the mundane grumbling, it was very enjoyable to meet many new faces as well as greet old acquaintances in a recent passing. The grass may still shatter underfoot and Easter flowers are nowhere to be seen but human animals are coming out of their winter hovels to make merry and prepare for better days to come.
My dear friend, I began this missive over a fortnight ago and found it still in my person possession. Many apologies. Spring is visiting today with all the sunshine and heat it promises. Flowers are blooming, birds are singing, and romance is in the air. How nice it is to enjoy my husband's romantic company. Embraces, kisses, secrets whispered by actions and told without words.
Lord Percy and I greeted our subjects yesterden. We participated in an exciting proclamation that will go out to all surrounding duchies, fiefdoms, vales, and highlands to invite everyone to Crossford’s impending festival. I regret I did not get around to conference with each single person, but I greeted as many as I could with kind words and tea as a proper English hostess. A few more impish peasants were determined to know of a certain evening at the local inn with gypsies. I do not know why that innkeeper bothers with walls at all if no one has two secrets to rub together after spending a moment there. No blame to him of course, scandalous tales fill tables and gossip makes the wine flow. I pray the townspeople would never believe their goodly duke to be one of infidelity. He is lecherous, cantankerous, boastful, and oft drunken but never unfaithful. He may pledge his life to our queen, his duty to our people, and his soul to our God, but you may mark that everything else is mine alone.
…or at least we were alone. I received word that I am to share his attention with my sweet step-daughter who has completed her education and is returning to us. She is en route as we speak. I feel so unprepared. Do you not hate getting caught with your hoop down? Chambers are being prepared for her comfort well enough, but I have yet to enlist a single suitor. She was fair of face and voice when I last met her. I look forward to reconvening with the woman she has become. I owe it to the memory her darling departed mother, God rest her soul, to find her a proper match. I have no memory of her mother of course, but Hugh speaks well of her as a first wife, God rest her soul. How are the eligible prospects to the south? Any help on the quest for a son-in-law will be ever so appreciated. I would rather not wait until the mid-summer festival but surely there will be plenty of acceptable noble bachelors to be had there, perhaps as a last resort. I shall be remiss to let that pass without a promise for a contract at the very least. The very, very least!
To the windows, to the walls,
Lady Elizabeth Percy
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