Dearest Lavinia Letter Three

1st of May, 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I was delighted to receive your letter. I am glad you and Matthew are well and are enjoying your married life in Yorkshire. Thank you for letting me know how everyone is getting on. I find my own letters to my family stilted. Granny is the easiest to write to, at least she is a practical woman, and I can write her of day-to-day life. Granny's letters offer a practical comfort, filled with advice on managing household affairs.

But Mama and Papa are impossible. Papa's anger towards Tom seems an insurmountable barrier, I don't how we will overcome it. Tom has expressed his regret and the guilt he feels over the whole situation. Especially with the division he has put between me and my family and of course for hurting poor Sybil. Please let me know if you hear any news from Sybil. I just can't write to her yet.

Mama is almost worse than Papa. She thinks I am living in some hovel and that Tom beats me every day. I have tried being positive and I have sent her some sketches of the Flat. But she just calls me her 'Brave Darling Girl'. I swear I can see tear stains on her letters.

By the way thank you for your kind words about the sketch I sent you. I am sure it is not nearly as good as you say. I will add a sketch of the park I can see from my windows. It is so lovely now that spring is here, the flowers have started to bloom. I am glad to see daffodils growing, they are very popular here. I mentioned to Tom that I liked them. He has started to bring them home for me.

I look from my windows and the streets are so busy and filled with life and activities. Mothers with their children walking in the spring sunshine. Busy house keepers, with filled shopping baskets. Men of business strolling about, often smoking cigarettes or a pipe. The seemed to be filled with purpose, the opposite of me, who seem to have fallen into a more purposeless life than I even had at Downton.

Now, on a more personal note, I must share my apprehensions about Tom. At Downton I had such hopes for us. We seemed to be getting along so well and Tom displayed such wit and humour. But ever since I arrived here in Dublin, he has been so quiet and withdrawn, and our conversations are scarce. He leaves early in the morning and comes home late. I was just trying to speak with him the other day and he shouted at me. No one has shouted at me like that before (well except for Edith, she doesn't count as she is all ways screeching at me). I will admit it frightened me and I went to my room, and I cried.

I feel lost and alone, yearning for home and the solace of familiar faces. Do you have any advice, dear Lavinia? I can't fathom Matthew ever raising his voice to you, and I find myself at a loss. Your words would mean the world to me.

Please write to me soon.

Yours affectionately

Mary