Dearest Lavinia Letter One
Dublin, 15th of April 1919
My Dearest Lavinia,
I trust this letter finds you in the best of health and joyous spirits. It seems like an age since our last exchange at your wedding in Downton Abbey, a whole month. The quietude of Dublin prompts me to reflect on the value of our friendship. You are one of the only people I know who I can write the truth to. You were at Downton during those few days of my shame, and you know the truth of the matter. You know what a terrible patched up affair my marriage is to Branson.
I must continue to write to my acquaintances in England, spinning pretty lies about my new life in Dublin. I need one person I can write to who knows the whole story. As you can guess I cannot write to my sisters for obvious reasons. Sybil because I married the man she loves and well Edith. Even you must have noticed that there is no love lost between us. She must be crowing at my downfall.
I must try and put a brave face on things.
Life in this bustling city stands in stark contrast to the tranquillity of Downton Abbey's hallowed halls. The ceaseless hum of Dublin's streets, a world apart from the melodic birdsong that once filled the estate, leaves me yearning for the familiar sounds of the English countryside.
Tom has delved into the realm of journalism at the Dublin Times, while I navigate the uncharted waters of domesticity. Our modest flat, a far cry from Downton's grandeur, is still a realm to which I am acclimating. I will send you more details, I will try and sketch a likeness for you and add it to my next letter.
Dublin, with its narrow streets and vibrant markets, pulses with a passionate energy, much like the spirited Irishman who now shares my name, if not my heart. The city's fervour is infectious, yet my heart aches for the serene embrace of my beloved Downton.
Tom's dedication to his work, admirable though it may be, leaves me with ample time for introspection. The nights seem longer, the days lonelier, as I ponder the void left by the absence of my dear family and friends.
In the quiet moments, I find solace in the notion that we are forging a life together, crafting a path uniquely ours. Yet, doubts linger, and I reflect on the challenges of marriage. This life is so far from the one I imagined for myself. The echoes of our shared struggles fortify me to face the uncertainties of this new chapter.
Do you recall those afternoon confidences in the garden at Downton House, Lavinia? Those moments of solace in the midst of chaos? Where we spoke of worry of Matthew fighting in the trenches. I hope I offered some semblance of comfort then. I yearn for that connection again, which is why I share my thoughts with you through these letters.
Our lives have taken unexpected turns, and I, now the wife of a journalist in a foreign city, far from the opulence of Downton Abbey, embark on a journey of self-discovery. I trust that in sharing my thoughts, clarity will emerge.
Write to me soon, my friend. Your words are a balm to my lonely heart, and I eagerly await news of Downton and the joys of your married life.
With growing affection,
Lady Mary Branson