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Heavenly Kingdoms - Chapter 9
From Anne Charlston to Richard Charlston, 28th of July, 1859.
Dear Brother,
For a man who is brave enough to sail past the horn I find it odd that you would not be brave enough to address your letter to me directly, rather addressing it to our father even when you know he will not be capable of reading it in his current state, and that I, your suffering sister, would have to read of your adventures thus far impersonally, knowing they are not for me to enjoy, and seeing within them no personal note of affection for myself to absorb from my only brother and remaining sane member of my family. Yet am I the martyr you always claim me to be so will swallow your neglect and wish you the best for your journey and hope with all of God’s blessings that your ship reaches port safely. In truth, I need you to listen to me, to read what I have written here; I need another soul to share the burdens of recent events and you will see soon why I cannot share this with my great friend Maggie. So please, brother, read on, feel with me, and think more of your sister than just a pawn in the game you play against father and the world.
I requested the help of Maggie some weeks ago, although I did not frame it in such a direct way; I try to play hostess and invite others to our home as mother might have – with the promise of cheerful hospitality – yet such is proved to be the absurdist of jokes as any who come within the orbit of our family is sapped of all cheer the moment they cross the threshold of our penetralium. But I am learning in my own way. I cannot be as mother was but can find my own passage to control events and order this madness infecting the walls of Sedgewood. Maggie is a dear, patient friend but I fear I may betray her unknowingly as circumstances force my desires.
I will explain what has transpired. Maggie's fiancé George started to visit Sedgewood, which is perfectly understandable given the grim reports Maggie was no doubt issuing to the outside world through her personal letters. Who could blame a lover for being concerned for his beloved when held in the thrall of a forsaken family such as ours. I am sure he only agreed to her staying with us based on typical Maggie assurances that nothing would harm her and to “stop being such a worrisome bore” and no doubt she did not tell him directly what has happened during her stay but he would have read between the lines or perhaps she communicated fully to an intermediary who let all known to poor sensitive George, whose troubled expression he could not hide whenever he entered into our domain; slightly concerned when viewing me, glancing at my hands on occasion to see if there was a dangerous object held, tight-knuckled, within them – but with even greater worry looking in the dark corners for the specter of my father, the source, not unjustified, of “all the evil” that dwelled in Sedgewood and ultimately threatened his dear fiancé. None of this he could articulate to me or Maggie as such would be improper in my case and in Maggie’s it would provoke ridicule from her independent and stubborn nature (and reveal that he knew more than he was supposed to).
On his first visit he came for lunch and we dined, we three, on a roast pheasant too scrawny to be satisfying but there were no complaints. In fact our spirits were somewhat raised. After Geroge’s initial caution his kind face fell to empathy and his sincere and naive compassion so endeared us to him we could not help being moved to joy at knowing there are good men in the world, still light in spirit and wishing to play the hero against despair.
Curiously, and ominously as will read, this kindness was more soothing to myself than to his fiancé who after a few moments of genuine affection fell into her usual supercilious mood, eager to tease, needing it in fact after being unable to bring herself to tease me for so many days. Here was the nature of our conversation:
“You’re both looking well,” said George, trying to be pleasant yet could not quite stifle his...
Dear Brother,
For a man who is brave enough to sail past the horn I find it odd that you would not be brave enough to address your letter to me directly, rather addressing it to our father even when you know he will not be capable of reading it in his current state, and that I, your suffering sister, would have to read of your adventures thus far impersonally, knowing they are not for me to enjoy, and seeing within them no personal note of affection for myself to absorb from my only brother and remaining sane member of my family. Yet am I the martyr you always claim me to be so will swallow your neglect and wish you the best for your journey and hope with all of God’s blessings that your ship reaches port safely. In truth, I need you to listen to me, to read what I have written here; I need another soul to share the burdens of recent events and you will see soon why I cannot share this with my great friend Maggie. So please, brother, read on, feel with me, and think more of your sister than just a pawn in the game you play against father and the world.
I requested the help of Maggie some weeks ago, although I did not frame it in such a direct way; I try to play hostess and invite others to our home as mother might have – with the promise of cheerful hospitality – yet such is proved to be the absurdist of jokes as any who come within the orbit of our family is sapped of all cheer the moment they cross the threshold of our penetralium. But I am learning in my own way. I cannot be as mother was but can find my own passage to control events and order this madness infecting the walls of Sedgewood. Maggie is a dear, patient friend but I fear I may betray her unknowingly as circumstances force my desires.
I will explain what has transpired. Maggie's fiancé George started to visit Sedgewood, which is perfectly understandable given the grim reports Maggie was no doubt issuing to the outside world through her personal letters. Who could blame a lover for being concerned for his beloved when held in the thrall of a forsaken family such as ours. I am sure he only agreed to her staying with us based on typical Maggie assurances that nothing would harm her and to “stop being such a worrisome bore” and no doubt she did not tell him directly what has happened during her stay but he would have read between the lines or perhaps she communicated fully to an intermediary who let all known to poor sensitive George, whose troubled expression he could not hide whenever he entered into our domain; slightly concerned when viewing me, glancing at my hands on occasion to see if there was a dangerous object held, tight-knuckled, within them – but with even greater worry looking in the dark corners for the specter of my father, the source, not unjustified, of “all the evil” that dwelled in Sedgewood and ultimately threatened his dear fiancé. None of this he could articulate to me or Maggie as such would be improper in my case and in Maggie’s it would provoke ridicule from her independent and stubborn nature (and reveal that he knew more than he was supposed to).
On his first visit he came for lunch and we dined, we three, on a roast pheasant too scrawny to be satisfying but there were no complaints. In fact our spirits were somewhat raised. After Geroge’s initial caution his kind face fell to empathy and his sincere and naive compassion so endeared us to him we could not help being moved to joy at knowing there are good men in the world, still light in spirit and wishing to play the hero against despair.
Curiously, and ominously as will read, this kindness was more soothing to myself than to his fiancé who after a few moments of genuine affection fell into her usual supercilious mood, eager to tease, needing it in fact after being unable to bring herself to tease me for so many days. Here was the nature of our conversation:
“You’re both looking well,” said George, trying to be pleasant yet could not quite stifle his...
