Dangerous Letters

Chapter Twenty-Three

Letter XL

February 19, 17--

My dearest Mother and Father,

I am so sorry that I have not written. My silence, these past weeks, has been owing to a sickness and terrible fever – the malady worse than first presumed and I have been slow to recover. You would not believe the frights I dreamed of! I have finally made a more substantial recovery after the Master sent for a doctor last week, upon hearing my strange tales. I was made to remain in bed, and have been beset upon by all varieties of medicine – Mademoiselle Lette being very insistent that I am cured "at once and not a moment later". My nerves indeed have been most petrified but I felt recovered enough to stomach some soup at yesterday's supper and have slept with sporadic interruption since.

Today, the doctor said that I was well enough to walk again and that it would do me good to take a few turns around the garden from where I write to you now. I may also admit that I have been subjected to some feverish imaginings - "agitations of the spleen" as the doctor pronounced them, with kind firmness.

Madam L---, standing nearby when I recounted the tale, was far harsher. "This would well become a woman's story at a winter's fire, authorized by her grandmère. Hush, hush!"

The Master was surprisingly more indulgent, listening to my strange tale of apparitions on the landing with convincing sincerity and then bursting out - "madame, I say you are quite mad!"

I look forward to returning to teach Villette and am in much better spirits than before. The Marquis has agreed to allow communal prayer. The chapel remains closed, he says that it will need renovation first but, in the meantime, he has turned the office beside the library into a place for prayer. It is furnished from the chapel; with pews, an alter and, to my amazement, the prayer book of Claude de France (which he must have been keeping hidden). My soul is thus more fortified and I have regained the sense of purpose with which I first approached my position. Alas, Villette has so far steadfastly refused to even enter but it is no doubt that wilful childish stubbornness which she exercises on whim, and I hope that if I can bear out her disagreement, eventually she will grow tired of the protest. She allows me to sing to her at night, I find a lullaby is the best way to ensure that she will truly sleep, and now these are nearly always hymns.

Sadly, I must remain here until at least Easter – so I shall not quit my residence quite so soon as I gave you cause to hope. The Master's new wife has absconded – it has sent the whole household into quite a turmoil – and I fear I cannot be spared until the Spring. I have also run low on my stores of parchment and ink, without means to acquire more, and I will have to visit the village before you may hear from me again. I hate that you must have been alarmed to find no word from me and I sincerely hope that you may forgive me, and understand how poorly I must have been not to remember that great duty of daughterly love and affection. I pray you are keeping well.

God bless,

Charlotte

Letter XLI

February 22, 17--

Dear Hannah,

I am most ashamed of my conduct as of late. I feel as though I have been set upon a certain path, and the further down it I walk, the more removed from myself I am. That must seem strange. I'm not quite sure how to explain it. All I know is this morning I sat at my desk and forced myself to finally write my parents a letter. That action, which I have carried out my entire life with ease and proficiency (the expression of my thoughts to those that I hold dearest being the most natural thing in the world) and yet, I struggled with it for over two hours. I hope they will not see through my attempt and that it still sounds enough like their Charlotte. It does not matter really, soon enough I will be with you again. That thought is no longer quite as pleasing. O! But it will be. If only I could shake this melancholy, shrug off whatever this feeling is, I know could be happy once more at home.