Sunset
June 21, 1927
My dearest Charles,
I received your letter in this morning's post. In a way I was surprised you had written given the limited time you have to accomplish the inventorying and packing up of the wine cellar at Grantham House, but in another way I wasn't surprised as you have never missed a day in over a year now of jotting down at least a few lines to brighten my day. I never feel more fortunate or more loved than I do when I unfold a piece of thick ivory parchment and see your telltale scratching of ink across the page.
My day has been a busy one. Mona has a summer cold and, as you know, Peter is away visiting cousins for the week. The only lodger is that Mrs. Markingham you met just before you left, but she is as much trouble as tending to a full compliment of lodgers. I am trying to be patient as I know her neediness is borne of loneliness, however, I will not be sad to see the back of her tomorrow.
Mrs. Crawley has asked us to tea Thursday week. I told her I would have to confer with you but knew of nothing that would stand in the way of our accepting the invitation. I do so enjoy her company and am quite sure Dr. Clarkson will be joining us. Maybe they have some news to impart? Perhaps it is wishful thinking, but wouldn't it be delightful if they were to be wed?
It has been lovely to watch their courtship from afar. It seems such a different dance compared to that of younger people. I suppose the wisdom that comes with life experience changes perspective and priorities when you are of a certain age. I watch Mona with her young beau and I see such eagerness and impatience pass between them in a desire to be alone (it probably doesn't help that you watch young Pegg with an eagle eye whenever he pays visit. You rarely leave them alone for even five minutes. You remind me of my father in that respect and I love you all the more for it). Mona and Mr. Pegg have their whole lives ahead of them, and yet Mrs. Crawley and Dr. Clarkson seem to move at such a glacial pace in comparison, although they have far less time to share together.
It occurs to me that we never did "court," at least not in a proper way, although I suppose that is what we were unknowingly doing each night we shared a glass of wine or sherry across the small table in my sitting room (talk about a glacial pace! Perhaps this is why I told you I thought you would never ask when you finally did-). It is very strange to think that we spent all that time together and yet were apart.
I will have to close soon as I am sitting in the back garden with only the fading sun to light my page. I miss watching the sun set with you as has become our custom. You remarked the other day how sad it was to think of the many we missed while below stairs all those years. I agreed with you at the time, but now I think I have changed my mind. This sweet and rich life we now share allows me to appreciate things much more fully than I ever could have before. Perhaps in missing all those other sunsets and passing all those nights- together, yet apart, God was preparing us to more fully appreciate the magnificence of the sunsets we now share and the nights we spend together in each other's arms.
It is nearly dark so I must say goodnight. I miss you terribly. I am consoling myself with the fact that there is only one more sunset before I see you again.
All my love,
Your Elsie