Dearest Mamma,--I hope you are taking every possible care of Hurstbridge
and Ermyntrude and seeing that the sweet angels do not eat pounds of
chocolate between meals. If I had known how Harry was going to behave to me
over such a simple thing as the Vicomte's letter, I could never have let
you take the children with you to Arcachon for these next months--I am
feeling so lonely.
I came to great aunt Maria's because on Saturday night when Harry refused
to say he was sorry, it seemed the only dignified thing to do. I never
thought of course that he would rush off to Africa like this, and although
I feel I was perfectly right and should act in the very same way
again--still--well, there is no use talking about it, dearest Mamma--and
please don't write me a sermon on wifely duty and submission--because it
will only make me worse.
I don't know what I shall do next or where I shall go--I mean to take the
first chance of having some fun I can get. If he could go off in a
huff--but I won't speak of him even--I am going to forget I am married and
have a good time like everyone else does. Naturally, I haven't told a soul
but you about it all--our quarrel I mean--and Aunt Maria thinks I am a poor
ill-used darling to have a husband who wants to shoot lions, but Uncle John
said it is quite natural, and Aunt Maria heard that and said, "Tut tut," at
once.
There is a tremendous excitement here! Can you imagine it, Mamma? They have
actually got an automobile! It came this morning, and if it had been a
flying machine it could not have been considered more wonderful. It is
Uncle John's fiftieth wedding present to Aunt Maria!--and they are going
in it on the same tour they took on their wedding journey! Aunt Maria, as
you know, has never been abroad since. We all went into the stable yard to
see it. The face of the coachman! (You remember him?--always the same one.)
It was a mixture of contempt and defiance. They did suggest having him
taught a chauffeur's duties, but the man who came from the place they
bought the car wisely suggested it might, at his age, be dangerous, and
Aunt Maria also feared it would be bad for his sore throat--it is still
sore!--so they have abandoned this idea.
They start on Monday--the anniversary of their wedding--and they have asked
me to go with them, and I really think I shall.
The most marvellous preparations are being made. One would think it was a
journey to the South Pole. Aunt Maria spends hours each day in writing and
rewriting lists of things she must have with her, and then Uncle John
protests that only the smallest amount of luggage can be taken. So she
consults with Janet Mackintosh, her maid, and then she turns to me and in a
loud whisper says that of course she has to be patient with poor Janet as
she is a newcomer and does not yet know her ways! She has been with her
five years now, ever since her last Methuselah died, so one would have
thought that long enough to learn, wouldn't one, Mamma?
The automobile is most remarkable, as it has a rumble on the back, because,
as Aunt Maria explained, her maid and Uncle John's valet went in the rumble
of the carriage on their wedding journey, and it is the proper place for
servants, so she insisted upon the motor being arranged in the same way.
Janet and the valet will have a suffocatingly dusty drive--enveloped in
complete coverings of leather. Agnès is to sit beside the chauffeur and we
three inside. I suppose everyone will scream with laughter as we career
through the towns, but what matter! I shall go down to Cannes with them and
join Octavia there if I find it too boring, and Harry cannot have a word to
say to my travelling with my own relations. I feel like crying, dearest
Mamma, so I won't write any more now.
Your affectionate daughter,
ELIZABETH.