13.
Early July, 1925
My darling Elsie,
I must admit I blushed somewhat reading your previous letter, though it is foolish of me to do so, I never realised my intentions towards you had been so painfully transparent. I do hope I never embarrassed you over the years, that was certainly never my intent, and, if I did, I apologise profoundly for putting you in an uncomfortable position.
Quite honestly, it would never occur to me that you witnessed my indiscretion and, again, I feel I must apologise for my off-kilter singing. As for the intent behind that moment, well, that I will not apologise for. We have never spoken of that time Elsie, truthfully I always believed one day we would find our way to it. Yet it was then, faced with the sheer terror of not having you in my life, that I realised how deeply my feelings ran for you. Of course, it had been coming about for many years, every time you smiled or the rare occasions I caught the sound of your laugh. Yet that time, standing on the outside of your pain, unable to offer comfort, that I realised I had fallen in love with you.
The image of you knitting whilst occupying the chair in my pantry fills me with such overwhelming comfort it is impossible to describe. No wonder I continue to fall.
Thomas has taken ill with a summer cold and I have sent him to bed with a fever, which means tonight I am short staffed and, despite the boy's sufferings, he is useful in his role. I have taken dinner in my room to have some solitude and this is where I write to you now. Apologies for the hurried tone of my scribblings and the untidiness of them, but I needed to empty my mind of the thoughts your letter brought.
Until we speak again, my dear, darling Elsie.
Charles.