10.
Late June, 1925
Dear Charles,
It is late and I am in the back yard. It has been a gloriously hot day, the kind of day where the grass stands still it is too tired to move in the heat. All seems so very quiet on days like this, even those cats from the village who gather in the yard begging for scraps have been absent. Which you will, no doubt, be glad to hear. No sign of the badgers again neither, sadly. I have watered the roses and pottered around this evening disposing of weeds in our tiny garden; it seemed far too lovely a night to work or lock myself indoors and so I am enjoying the cool breeze as I sit here writing to you.
My darling Charlie, your kind words touched my heart. I too am far too old for sentimentality or folly, yet the weeks seem to lengthen with each day you are away. I have chastised myself on more than once occasion over the past few days for feeling this way; a kind of melancholic daydream keeps slipping over me, hastened by the hazy weather and the stillness of the house. We have worked together for over twenty years and I have never felt this way during the season. I can only conclude this is the result of marriage; I never dreamed it would change me in such a way. It is more than simply loving you, though I do, it is the simple pleasure of being together, our companionship, the ease I feel in your company. For so many years Elsie has been content to be Mrs. Hughes, and in such a relatively short space of time I feel I can be open and free with you. More myself.
I miss your company and your wise words. The sound of your voice in the halls.
It seems only appropriate for me to choose Barrett Browning in response to you: 'For Life in perfect whole, And aim consummated, is Love in sooth.' And I write the truth to you, forgive me if it is too sentimental and indulge my whimsical nature on this summer night.
With my deepest love,
Elsie Carson.