Monday 29th, July 1878.
London.
Dear Nikola,
I write this from the carriage as we leave our townhouse in London so please forgive me if my hand is all but unintelligible. It seems strange to me to write to you when we are only just setting out on our journey but as I sat and watched the sun shining down upon the city, I couldn't help but think of you and your dislike of what is supposed to be very insipid English sunshine. I hate to think how you'd do in one of the colonies. India is supposed to be frightful in summer.
Oh, something just occurred to me! Perhaps if I am to write this quickly enough, it shall be ready by the time we stop for lunch and then I could post it to you sooner than I thought. Though I do not know how likely that is, the swaying of the carriage, whilst most beneficial if you are trying to nap as my father is, is making me feel rather ill as I try to concentrate on the paper and as such I must take very frequent breaks.
I must confess, last night I was nearly unable to sleep with excitement. For such a long time my father has undertaken these trips without me much to my displeasure so I am very much looking forward to helping him with his work. More than that, I am excited to see my cousin Ashley of whom you've heard me speak many times. People say she and I could pass as sisters, the resemblance is so uncanny though I cannot see it. She is shorter than I, far more petite and her hair does not curl as outrageously as mine. I've told her on many occasions that her beauty is wasted out in the moors of Wales but she only laughs. She is just as academically inclined as I. In fact, I think you and Ashley would get on swimmingly (if only for the idea that you'd be able to plot against me).
For all that I am excited by this trip, I cannot think that this is the worst possible year for my father's change of heart. Every summer previous to this I have spent my days holed up in the library with few friends with which to spend the time but now that I have such a good and dear friend in you, I am unable to spend my summer by your side.
...
I shall continue to remind myself that summer is short and that you are awaiting my return and hopefully then I shall be able to enjoy this trip.
Yours,
Helen.
Friday 2nd, August. 1878.
Cheltenham.
Dear Nikola,
We've taken a very round-a-bout route to reach out current destination but it has been magnificent. I am learning ever so much from my father and it is that learning that has kept me from writing to you every day as you requested. People treat my father so differently out here, much less formally than the stuffy circles of both London and Oxford and it's refreshing to not have to bend to convention at every turn. The people out here are simple country folk for the most part but very kind indeed. A young girl I met in the last village gave me a beautiful leather bound journal, superior to most anything you could get in Oxford! She even told me that her older brother taught her to work the leather and, when they heard that the kind old Mr. Gregory was bringing his daughter next time he visited, they took it to town and asked the book maker to find some paper for it. It really is a beautiful item and I've already started to use it as my field journal. Perhaps, if father allows, I'll show it to you when we get home.
I do miss you very much Nikola, I think that you'd be very interested in the beauty of the countryside out here, so different to that of Oxford. However I'm sure you'd take issue with the amount of mud that has become a part of my life. Do you remember the soft brown boots I wore that you said looked far too sturdy for traipsing around the halls of Oxford? Well they are most certainly not sturdy enough for the terrain out here. The first day I wore them I ended up with mud soaking through to dry on my feet! It was most horrid though I ought to be grateful that it was not a cowpat I stood in.
...
My father is again asking to whom I scribble so frantically so I shall draw this letter to a close but I promise another shall soon follow.
Yours,
Helen.
Tuesday 6th, August. 1878.
Gloucester.
Dear Nikola,
I must apologise for not writing sooner! We have been staying here in Gloucester for two days now because of the almost torrential rain but I've neglected to write you another letter despite the lack of other entertainments. I think the problem is that I shan't be receiving any responses from you until I get home which is rather disheartening. Oh well, perhaps we shall have another picnic to make up for it.
Oh heaven's, I really shouldn't write that, it makes me blush just to think of our lovely outing which arouses my father's suspicions to no end. I really did have a magnificent time that afternoon Nikola, I cannot thank you enough for going to all that effort for me. The other day when we stopped for lunch, we actually ended up sitting by a small brook and I could not stop smiling the whole time. Father asked what had made me so happy and so I explained the beautiful picnic to him (an edited version, obviously) and he too smiled. He said you were the nicest man he'd ever heard of but advised me to write to you and explain that you ought to ask for my hand soon or he'd start to think you had less than honourable intentions! I laughed at him and told him you'd do nothing of the sort but he just scoffed. He still holds to the notion that a man and a woman cannot be close without some sort of romantic attachment between them.
I did then point out my friendship with James Watson (who I really think you should spend more time with, he is a rather lovely young man and very intelligent too) but my father shook his head. He says that you and I are like two birds of the same feather; flighty, irrepressible and troublesome. Please don't take offense to that, he means it in the nicest way and I think it is a good sign that he is finally warming to you. He wasn't that keen on you when we first met at James' party but I think I've just about convinced him that you aren't some crazed foreigner here to steal away his daughter. That and he is rather impressed by the work you are doing in your chosen field. He did tell me not to tell you that but the truth of the matter is, as fierce as he likes to pretend to be, my father is as harmless as a child's toy bear.
...
One day I'd very much like to show you around this part of the country because despite the fact I've very rarely visited, it is a magnificent place and I think you need to develop a broader understanding of this fair country. Oxford and London aren't nearly as beautiful as the rolling fields and quaint towns. Though if I do manage to one day bring you out here, you must promise not to make fun of the people. Think on it and I'll do a better job of convincing you of its beauty when I return.
Yours,
Helen.
Saturday 10th, August. 1878.
Whitecroft.
Oh Nikola! How I wish you'd been with me over these past few days! The weather has been terrible which has put my father in the most sour of moods. The forest of Dean through which we passed was beautiful and I did indeed learn very much from our time there but the rain soaked through my dress and I was chilled to the bone. Then, the inn in which we stayed was draughty and the fire would not heat even your tiny apartment in Oxford let alone the painfully large suite I had! I was positively miserable despite the beautiful scenery and only thoughts of you were able to keep me from snapping at my father. It's not that I doubt you'd be complaining any less than I am but you have a way about you that brings a smile to my face regardless of where I find myself.
I should stop complaining now because the sun is out and helping to fight off the cold I seem to have come down with but, with the illness has come a bout of homesickness. I miss you Nikola and, when my father decides to lock himself away with his work, I am terribly lonely. Our dank little carriage has not the warmth of the ride we shared not too long ago.
As I sit here I can hear my father snoring opposite me but if I close my eyes I can imagine you sitting by me, commenting on the fact that my hair is an awful mess, my handwriting atrocious and that I should stop moaning. If I squeeze my fist tightly enough closed I can just about feel your hand in mine. I miss you Nikola and, when I get home, I beg you to never let me dash away without you again. Your companionship is, I think, one of the only things that would chase away these blasted sniffles.
Yours miserably,
Helen.
Thursday 15th, August. 1878.
Kilgwrrwg.
Dear Nikola,
Firstly I must announce that finally you are receiving a letter from Wales! The tiny hamlet we are spending the night in reminds me of something of a fairytale. I half expect to see a knight come around the corner to rescue the beautiful yet poverty stricken young maiden from the hands of her cruel step mother! But more on that later.
I also want to apologise for my last letter. Yesterday in the carriage I was looking though the rough copy of the letter I kept (so that when I read your responses I have something to read from) and realised just how silly I was. I shouldn't have been so dreary nor should I have written to you in that manner. I most certainly miss you and will rejoice when I can see you once more but to phrase my loneliness in such a way was inappropriate of me. Please don't think me to be one of those foolish young girls who seek affection and romantic attachment with those who are not romantically interested in them. I respect you immensely Nikola and I should not have been so free with my words. You are my friend above all else and I ask for forgiveness. Please do not turn away from me for a few silly words, I swear it shall not happen again.
...
Unfortunately, I must again stop writing for the bumpy roads and sway of the carriage are threatening to play games with my lunch once more.
Yours,
Helen.
Saturday 17th, August. 1878.
Caerleon.
Dear Nikola,
We are now approaching our final destination! The town in which we are staying this evening is only a stone's throw from Newport, and once we have crossed the city we shall be very close to Cardiff indeed. Ashley and her parents live just outside of Cardiff in a beautiful old manor that was purchased by my mother's grandfather as a way to escape London and its bustle. It is a fascinating building and within it are a great many pictures of my mother. Visiting is always such a treat for my father very rarely speaks of my mother so hearing stories of her are a gift for me. Of course, I cannot hold it against him for losing the one you love in the manner he did is something I cannot properly fathom but with so few memories of my own it is a great solace to hear of a time when she was a young and vibrant woman unaffected by the sickness that took her from us.
...
The town we are staying in is rather beautiful, filled to the brim with old roman sites that are truly fascinating. If I return one day, I would so love to spend more time here, discovering the secrets of the place. Of course, I expect that by the time I return you will have found out everything about the place that you can so if I am to return, you will most certainly need to accompany me if only so I have a knowledgeable guide.
Now, considering my candle is very close to burning out, I shall have to say good bye and goodnight. It may be a few days before I can send a letter once more but I promise I shall write as soon as I can.
Yours,
Helen.
Friday 30th, August. 1878.
Oxford.
His hands trembled as he held her latest and unopened letter in his hands. Each letter he received was opened with the exact same reaction but considering the gap that had preceded this one, he was doubly excited. He looked to the map on his desk and each of the careful circles he'd drawn around the places she'd mentioned as he tried to figure where she would be at this exact moment. He had no doubt that the letter he held was written from the home in Cardiff she spoke of but it had become a game to him to figure out where she could be as he read her latest letters.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he traced a finger over the cursive script on the front, enjoying the clarity with which it was written now that she didn't need to write whilst in a carriage though there was a blotch that spoke of her writing and addressing the envelope with great speed.
Flipping it over, his brow furrowed. Why was she so eager?
Just as he reached for the letter opener by his table, a knock at the door sounded. Confused, Nikola glanced to the clock. It was just past 2 in the afternoon and he had no engagements until tomorrow morning.
Fighting down the frustration he felt at being interrupted, he placed the letter down on his bed before making his way to the door. Slowly he pulled it open only to come face to face with a beaming Watson.
"Tesla," he greeted warmly, clapping him on the shoulder as he sauntered into the room. "Just about ready to go? We don't want to keep them waiting."
"Go where?" Nikola asked, thoroughly confused.
"So you didn't get her latest letter then?" James asked, face falling.
"The letter from Helen? Yes," he replied. "I was just about to read it. Why? How do you know about our letters?"
He knew his tone was a touch too defensive but he couldn't help it, the thought of someone else knowing about her promise to write to him made his skin crawl.
"She sent me to pick you up," James replied easily, thankfully skipping over Nikola's obvious attachment to her. "She arrived back in town today and, in that letter she told you I'd be around to bring you to her."
"She's back?" Nikola asked, thoughts of another boring and lonely week flying from his head.
"Arrived this morning," James said with a nod. "Are you ready to go or do you want me to send word we'll be late?"
"Give me 10 minutes," Nikola replied eagerly. "I'll meet you downstairs. I just need to collect up some things."
James chuckled but smiled warmly before strolling from the room. The instant the door was shut, Nikola ripped off his clothes, running to the closet to find his freshest suit and shirt. He dressed in record time before dashing into his miniscule bathroom. He washed his face, combed and set his hair before finally standing still a moment. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he straightened his suit.
He smiled broadly at his reflection before turning on his heel and walking calmly to the bed to grab not only her latest and unread letter but also the small pile of letters he'd written in response to her.
Heading to the door he grabbed a coat and hat, trying not to run down to the carriage.
It wasn't until he was half way down the corridor he realised he'd forgotten shoes.
Tuesday 20th, August. 1878.
Caerdydd. (Ashley says I ought to learn Welsh but I think calling it Cardiff is perfectly acceptable)
Dear Nikola,
This letter will reach you later than I'd have hoped but Ashley has promised me it will reach you as quickly as a letter can travel the distance between us. I did ask her to explain her methods but she only spoke a phrase in Welsh (which I am still having trouble learning) before grinning at me and turning away.
I have told her all about you and she is most eager to meet you one day however she does seem to share the view of my father that our relationship is one that shouldn't exist in its current form. Ashley however, is a little more understanding though after telling her of our picnic (edited, as per usual) she is certain that you either intend to soil me for all other men or whisk me away to Gretna Green. Have no fear though Nikola, she only jests and I take none of what she says seriously. She does not know you as I do and, as such cannot make such decisions about our friendship. Plus she has a romantic streak a mile wide.
Actually, on second thoughts, I'd best not introduce the two of you! She'd likely have you swooning in a matter of minutes and then I'd have to put up with watching the pair of you moon over each other. Ashley is one of those women who are simply irresistible to all men and her ability make men fall in love with her is unparalleled though she is very good about it. For all her wiles, she is rather mischievous and does enjoy leading on some of the more ridiculous suitors. Once a man almost 5 years older than her own father asked to court her! I think she makes my father rather pleased that he as a daughter who won't attract that kind of attention. Well, I suppose it has happened once but I was 19 at the time and in comparison to Ashley's long line of suitors it does not really matter.
Anyway, enough about the romantic pursuits of my cousin. As much as I miss you, I must admit it is lovely to be back here. I've spent so long away that it truly feels like a homecoming. One day you must let me bring you here, the library is cavernous, the furnishings tasteful and the mud is minimal. I'm certain you would love being out here and the fresh air is just marvellous. I can-
I'm terribly sorry Nikola but I shall have to cut this short, my father has just found the most amazing thing and I have to go but I have good news to leave you with. Although this will be the last letter I am able to send you, we shall be returning home early and I promise to write you small notes as we go. If all goes to plan we shall be back in Oxford on the 30th of August but that's not all. I shall, the moment I've finished this send a letter to James to ask him to bring you to my home on the afternoon of the 30th for I have the most wonderful of news. I shall not explain here in case the letter goes astray but I will hope that this letter reaches you in time.
Yours faithfully,
Helen.