Dearest dearest dearest,
My hands are shaking so dreadfully—
(smeared word)
I must calm down—perhaps I will sneak down to the kitchen for a pot of tea.
Must calm down (blob)
All better now.
(illegible)
I think.
Oh, bother. I have smeared the new start of this letter to you. I will try again. The ink is all over the bottom of my hand, and I drag it across the page as I write.
Let me start again.
I have met him—the one whom Lady Durand has paid to marry me. He wrote me a letter, and I did not know how to answer, but Lady Durand sent him to stay in Bath, and he wrote to say that he would like to meet me.
My natural instinct was to not reply, to hide, to hope he would just go away. But it disturbed me that there was a man somewhere in Bath awaiting my answer. It felt terrible and in
