Dr. Paul Roberts (doctorroberts) wrote in lechance, @ 2008-11-26 13:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | letter, paul roberts |
A letter home
My dearest Eliza,
A month in Lechance now, and I must offer my undying gratitude for your none-so-gentle persuasions to accept the invitation to settle here. I hope Patricia is fully recovered from her fall, and that Anne continues to do well at school. I include a note for her - please help her to read it if I have been too scholarly again.
News for you, along with my deepest apologies for taking so long to set pen to paper and write anything except the briefest of notes and scripts. I have a house here, and have met a number of exceeding pleasant people, both professionally and personally. An Irish-American gentleman aided me in converting one of the reception rooms to a consulting room, and I have a married couple who "live in". Mrs. Elspeth St. John has a sharp temper but, I believe, a kind heart, works tirelessly to keep my house in order and has a remarkable trick of knowing those whose ailments are purely imaginary, and terrifying them away. Mr. Harold St. John, Harry, has become a true friend. He is kind enough to act as a chaperone should I have unmatched Beloved patients, and is a most effective and helpful nurse. He has also been gracious enough to accompany me upon several courting visits; Mr. LeChance, it seems, wastes no time in forming matches in his new town.
Before you ask, dear sister, as I am certain that you shall, let me set your mind at rest. No, I have no upcoming match as a result of these visits. However...
Yes, that was a however. I shall pause to allow you to call Patricia, as I am sure that she is anxious to reassure herself that your squeal is no sign of distress.
I have made a number of late night exploratory walks around the town, as is my custom of late, and upon one of these encountered a young gentleman in apparent distress. We fell to talking, and then to walking together, and he has since accompanied me to the town's Harvest Festival celebrations - more of those in my note to Anne. The gentleman's name is James Warren, and he is a most remarkable musician from Leeds, England, a prodigious journey to have made to start a new life but for, I do assure you, the strongest of reasons.
To provide you with a list of James' excellent qualities would fill this page and several more besides, but I shall restrain myself from boring you in such a manner, as I am certain that my poor pen lacks the ability to do him true justice. Instead I shall mention merely that he is indifferent tall, slender, with hair of a light brown and eyes that hold all the depth and mystery of the oceans, and the we (and the yenta) are determined to make a match of it. The banns are yet to be called, but the betrothal is so agreed.
I had not looked for such a match, or for such fortune to find, yet be happy for me, Eliza. For us. For we are exceeding happy for ourselves and for each other.
If all proceeds as I hope, the contract should be signed and the ceremony formalized around Candlemas. Should you, or you and Anne, or you and Patricia and Anne, be able to travel here before that time, my house is ready to receive you and my heart would be glad of the sight of you. If that prove not possible, I should hope to bring James to meet you all by Easter-tide.
My regards to Patricia, my love to Anne and always to you, my deepest gratitude. Let me hear from you by return of post!
Your loving brother,
Paul