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Heavenly Kingdoms - Chapter 8
From Margaret Playford to Caroline Playford, 17th of July, 1859.
Dear Cousin,
I shall relate a day of a different tenor lest you think it necessary to call the constable to rescue me from my purgatory, although, I warn you, there is still much to be apprehensive about regarding what follows. Yet will you see light and dark in the relation of this day and decide the victor.
I had the inclination to get Anne out of the house, at least for a half-day and try to get used to the prospect of living a life outside of the stifling walls of Sedgewood. There is a moor some two mile from the manor, as you know, and I, after a great harangue, convinced the young spinster to come and enjoy some natural peace.
We talked little much of the way there, shifting through the serrated heath that sparsely populates both the Charlston estate with its faded greens and the moor with its waist high reeds. The land seemed firm but I had the impression of gliding, unable to pause lest my spirits fly on without me. I would glance at my companion from time to time and note the change in her since the day before. Anne has always been withdrawn but here I saw blankness that belies the fresh emotion that I know dwells inside her. I tried to break the silence with a little game and you can judge for yourself how well it went.
I proposed a test of perception to see who could find the largest animal, thinking we would start with an ant or a cricket and work our way up, but was dismayed when Anne immediately pointed to a crow and claimed it. I laughed at her luck and speed but was secretly miffed to have barely occupied our attentions for ten seconds. Then was my luck to change when a rabbit came into view forcing, I will admit, rather too high of a squeal of delight from myself as I claimed the critter as my totem.
Anne, my ever insufferable friend, said flatly, “It’s no bigger than my crow.”
“No bigger than… how now? It most certainly is!”
“When my crow spreads its wings its bigger by far.”
“Oh rubbish! Bigger is by weight not breadth.”
“By what rule Maggie?”
“The rule of common sense!”
“Oh you know I have so little of that, especially of late.”
She laughed as she said it, which, having finally brightened that sourpuss face so gloomily held all morn, should have brightened mine were it not for the touch of spite and bitterness that came with it. Luckily I am an expert at ignoring such signs.
“Indeed,” I said, “next I shall claim a cow then you shall point at me and say ‘this specimen is larger for her height doth bovine shade inferior.’”
I will admit I got a more genuine laugh this time from my friend – not to boast of wit but I thought it was well said.
Anne was thankfully up for to challenge when countering, “you bind my tongue for should I commit to my course I will claim you larger than a cow, surely a mortal insult to one as vain as you, yet should I not commit to my course I should be thought flighty, unreliable and of no use to anybody. I would have cared more for the feelings of others when I was younger and kowtowed to the anguish of offence but now I am more inclined to action so must commit to my course. Therefore I must indeed claim you superior in size to a cow.”
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Dear Cousin,
I shall relate a day of a different tenor lest you think it necessary to call the constable to rescue me from my purgatory, although, I warn you, there is still much to be apprehensive about regarding what follows. Yet will you see light and dark in the relation of this day and decide the victor.
I had the inclination to get Anne out of the house, at least for a half-day and try to get used to the prospect of living a life outside of the stifling walls of Sedgewood. There is a moor some two mile from the manor, as you know, and I, after a great harangue, convinced the young spinster to come and enjoy some natural peace.
We talked little much of the way there, shifting through the serrated heath that sparsely populates both the Charlston estate with its faded greens and the moor with its waist high reeds. The land seemed firm but I had the impression of gliding, unable to pause lest my spirits fly on without me. I would glance at my companion from time to time and note the change in her since the day before. Anne has always been withdrawn but here I saw blankness that belies the fresh emotion that I know dwells inside her. I tried to break the silence with a little game and you can judge for yourself how well it went.
I proposed a test of perception to see who could find the largest animal, thinking we would start with an ant or a cricket and work our way up, but was dismayed when Anne immediately pointed to a crow and claimed it. I laughed at her luck and speed but was secretly miffed to have barely occupied our attentions for ten seconds. Then was my luck to change when a rabbit came into view forcing, I will admit, rather too high of a squeal of delight from myself as I claimed the critter as my totem.
Anne, my ever insufferable friend, said flatly, “It’s no bigger than my crow.”
“No bigger than… how now? It most certainly is!”
“When my crow spreads its wings its bigger by far.”
“Oh rubbish! Bigger is by weight not breadth.”
“By what rule Maggie?”
“The rule of common sense!”
“Oh you know I have so little of that, especially of late.”
She laughed as she said it, which, having finally brightened that sourpuss face so gloomily held all morn, should have brightened mine were it not for the touch of spite and bitterness that came with it. Luckily I am an expert at ignoring such signs.
“Indeed,” I said, “next I shall claim a cow then you shall point at me and say ‘this specimen is larger for her height doth bovine shade inferior.’”
I will admit I got a more genuine laugh this time from my friend – not to boast of wit but I thought it was well said.
Anne was thankfully up for to challenge when countering, “you bind my tongue for should I commit to my course I will claim you larger than a cow, surely a mortal insult to one as vain as you, yet should I not commit to my course I should be thought flighty, unreliable and of no use to anybody. I would have cared more for the feelings of others when I was younger and kowtowed to the anguish of offence but now I am more inclined to action so must commit to my course. Therefore I must indeed claim you superior in size to a cow.”
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