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Heavenly Kingdoms - Chapter 13
From Margaret Playford to Caroline Playford, 18th of August, 1859 (Letter unsent).
Dear Caroline,
This letter is addressed to you but I may never send it for you to read. I don’t keep a journal as I always share with others my thoughts, feelings, and opinions but what was discussed between myself and Anne is so intensely personal I think it should not be for any other ears or eyes. Yet, will I write to record my thoughts to make sense of the misery and love we share.
We are still sequestered away in the West Wing of Sedgewood. Propriety still demands that George and I sleep separately so Anne and I are sharing the furthest and most secluded room in the manor. George is a room away, closer to the center of Sedgewood, where he can watch the hall to make sure none of the “sailors” pass by and enter our chamber.
Anne is still distraught, even after sleep, from the recent words of her father that struck her so deeply. I often make light of Anne’s melancholic predilections but after being present when the beast spoke his vile words, I have nothing but sympathy for the poor girl, and fear I would fair not much better under the circumstances.
To add to this is the unrequited nature of her infatuation with George, which, amusing at first, has developed the most pitiable tone when seen in the yearning and pathetic spasms of anguish exhibited by this creature much mistreated by God; when she lies upon the bed, her hand clutching the sheets in turmoiled fists, I wonder which pain is greatest in her heart: the complete destruction of her father’s love for her, or the love that never was with George.
For a time I said nothing beyond the barest platitudes to try and ease her pains; too great were they to seek to sooth with words. I merely held her when she sobbed and brought to her comforts which could help her body ease into a semblance of peace which could then be made ally in the effort toward recovering her troubled mind.
When this peace had started to come, and her attacks of despair had become rare, I softly broached, from the edges, the subjects of her distress: “I want you to know how proud of you I am, Annie. You try so hard to be good, to help your father, and recover some of that light that once shone through the windows of this place. Your task is entirely thankless and yet you have persisted for so long. Do not think Christ would not be proud of you as well. I know of no other person who holds themselves to such a high standard as you do, even when such scrutiny is not needed. Only the best of people do this, and you are such a person, Annie. My dear girl! It breaks my heart to see you struggle and yet I am in awe of your spirit, which wishes, always, for something better; for a better world for yourself and those around you. If only such a world as you envision could be made! And yet, your vision is too grand for a world that does not deserve it, or you. Yet, you know that such striving is not always about the success of what we try but the fact that we do try. Whenever we try to be good - to do good - the heavens hear our voice and the angels...
Dear Caroline,
This letter is addressed to you but I may never send it for you to read. I don’t keep a journal as I always share with others my thoughts, feelings, and opinions but what was discussed between myself and Anne is so intensely personal I think it should not be for any other ears or eyes. Yet, will I write to record my thoughts to make sense of the misery and love we share.
We are still sequestered away in the West Wing of Sedgewood. Propriety still demands that George and I sleep separately so Anne and I are sharing the furthest and most secluded room in the manor. George is a room away, closer to the center of Sedgewood, where he can watch the hall to make sure none of the “sailors” pass by and enter our chamber.
Anne is still distraught, even after sleep, from the recent words of her father that struck her so deeply. I often make light of Anne’s melancholic predilections but after being present when the beast spoke his vile words, I have nothing but sympathy for the poor girl, and fear I would fair not much better under the circumstances.
To add to this is the unrequited nature of her infatuation with George, which, amusing at first, has developed the most pitiable tone when seen in the yearning and pathetic spasms of anguish exhibited by this creature much mistreated by God; when she lies upon the bed, her hand clutching the sheets in turmoiled fists, I wonder which pain is greatest in her heart: the complete destruction of her father’s love for her, or the love that never was with George.
For a time I said nothing beyond the barest platitudes to try and ease her pains; too great were they to seek to sooth with words. I merely held her when she sobbed and brought to her comforts which could help her body ease into a semblance of peace which could then be made ally in the effort toward recovering her troubled mind.
When this peace had started to come, and her attacks of despair had become rare, I softly broached, from the edges, the subjects of her distress: “I want you to know how proud of you I am, Annie. You try so hard to be good, to help your father, and recover some of that light that once shone through the windows of this place. Your task is entirely thankless and yet you have persisted for so long. Do not think Christ would not be proud of you as well. I know of no other person who holds themselves to such a high standard as you do, even when such scrutiny is not needed. Only the best of people do this, and you are such a person, Annie. My dear girl! It breaks my heart to see you struggle and yet I am in awe of your spirit, which wishes, always, for something better; for a better world for yourself and those around you. If only such a world as you envision could be made! And yet, your vision is too grand for a world that does not deserve it, or you. Yet, you know that such striving is not always about the success of what we try but the fact that we do try. Whenever we try to be good - to do good - the heavens hear our voice and the angels...
