Dearest Lavinia Letter Two
Dublin, 22nd of April 1919
Dearest Lavinia,
I hope all is well in Yorkshire and you are in good spirits. I hope you and Matthew enjoyed your
I hope you don't mind me writing to you now, I feel we became friends through the long years of the war, and I feel I am need of a friend now more than ever. As we are both recently married women, I felt we would have much in common embarking on this new life with our husbands. We are both moving in circles that we are accustomed too. You in society of Yorkshire, married to a future Earl and I here in Dublin married to a writer.
As I promised Tom my father's man found a nice flat not too far away from Tom's work at the Dublin Times. Tom is not too fussed how our flat is decorated, so he has left it to me. It's quite large as flats go, it is on the top floor with a roof top garden which will be quite pleasant in summer, I think. We have two bedrooms and a room for our live in housekeeper. Tom was quite fractious about the housekeeper, but as I don't know how to boil a kettle, he will just have to put up with it. There is a dining room, a study and drawing room. All the rooms are a good size and prettily decorated. A child must have lived here before as the second bedroom has the most charming wallpaper filled with fairies and flowers.
The flat overlooks a lovely little park, it even has a rose garden and benches to sit on the evening. Our living room has what is called a Juliette balcony, which are French doors that open fully revealing a wrought iron railing, it is only six inches deep. But with the doors open it allows a lovely breeze in to the flat. Some afternoons I can stand there and drink my tea and look down in the garden. When the sun shines, I feel quite cosmopolitan.
I have included a sketch of our sitting room. I had forgotten how much I love to draw and paint. I have found a lovely little art supply shop on Dawes Street, near Trinity College. I am thinking of buying some watercolours and start painting again. I think it will be good for me to have something constructive to do during my days.
Now let me tell you about Mrs Murphy, our housekeeper, is a practical woman of about 50. She's rosy cheeked with fair hair, with brown eyes, with a certain sparkling. If you can imagine it, she's almost the perfect cross between Mrs Patmore and Mrs Huges. She's a widow, she told me her husband died five years ago of tuberculosis, she has three grown children, two sons and a daughter. Her daughter lives in the country in a village called Leixlip. But her two sons emigrated to Australia over ten years ago.
It must be terribly hard to be so far away from your children. Tom reminded me that when you are working class, it doesn't matter how close to your family you are, you still never get to see them. All the time he worked in Downton he only saw his own mother twice. His brother who lived in Liverpool he only saw once a year if he was lucky. I must admit this made me terribly guilty. I never thought of servants never seeing their families.
I don't think I remember Anna (you remember Anna was my maid in Downton) ever mentioning family, or Thomas or Mr Carson. I think young William Mason (that was Cousin Matthew's soldier servant during the war), sometimes saw his father and his father was a local farmer. I never knew the privilege I had to be always with my family, whether it be cousins or uncles and aunts. And now it's gone. I don't know how long it will be until I see my family again. Tom say's maybe Christmas.
Anyway, please do tell me how everyone fares in Downton, I miss everyone so. How are you settling in? I hope you don't find it too tedious with Cousin Isobel's and Granny's machinations. Try to avoid any of their schemes, I am sure you will have a much more peaceful life if you do.
Yours affectionately,
Lady Mary Branson
P.S. How strange to sign my name so. It still feels so unnatural.