romantic city.
At night, it is quiet, and decrepit buildings shine like new in the moonlight. The stars above shimmer, whilst the lit lanterns on the gondolas sway over rustling waters. I wish to share this and more with you. By the by, there is much more to eat here than merely citrus, soup and macaroni. There are melons, chocolate, cod, mussels, and the chefs in every noble home I have visited thus far are all, surprisingly, French. I am beginning to believe that Napoleon, damn him, invaded every country’s kitchen. Despite the food being exceptionally good, I do hope you will still send along those promised Banbury cakes. I miss them. Though not nearly as much as I miss you. I don’t wish to be forward, but every night I stare up at the ceiling of my room and think about you, and wonder what it would be like to have you in my arms and in my bed. This need to be near you is overwhelming.
I am and will forever be yours,
Remington
November 15, 1824
MY DEAR Remington,
I had Mrs. Davidson bake six Banbury cakes for you. You should be receiving them shortly, although I cannot promise they will arrive intact. Let us hope they do. Venice, as you describe it, sounds so divine. You will be happy to hear that Grayson intends on visiting you there in the next few months. I am livid, knowing I am unable to join him. Why is it he can go anywhere he pleases with whomever he pleases, whilst I remain confined in the library with Mrs. Lambert until my coming out? I prefer experiencing the world as opposed to learning about it through texts. What is worse, while I wait for my coming out, I am being forced to read and re-read a certain etiquette book, How To Avoid a Scandal. Although there is a vast amount of valuable advice to be found within its pages, the art of being a true lady, as is defined by this book and, I suppose, society, is rather horrifying to behold. I do believe I shall find myself ostracized for breathing the wrong way.
Now with regard to your bed … Though no one knows of our correspondences, except for Grayson and my lady’s maid, who both sneak your letters in and then sneak my letters out, I was compelled to ask Mrs. Lambert a few questions—questions that came about after I had read what little is stated about matrimonial duties in my etiquette book. Mrs. Lambert refused to answer, and instead forced me to write the words “I am a respectable lady” four hundred and fifty times. As I do not wish to be forced to write “I am a respectable lady” four hundred and fifty more times, I demand you elaborate as to what truly does go on between a man and a woman.
Yours faithfully,
Victoria
December 5, 1824
MY DARLING Victoria,
Where is a gentleman to begin? I should never have mentioned my bed at all. Being a gentleman, I shan’t go into too much detail, just enough to ease your curiosity and save you from further punishment. When I mentioned my bed, I was referring to the art of love. It involves no pretenses and consists of breath, passion and pleasure that in time will lead to the creation of precious life within your womb. There is far, far more than this, I assure you, but I am unwilling to scorch the tip of my quill or this parchment. Simply know that I am looking forward to our wedding night and think about it more often than a gentleman should. As a result of this restlessness within me, I have been distracting myself in many new ways. I travel to the plains often and carve every tree I pass with your name, so even though you are not here, everyone will still know of you. Fortunately, by overseeing the last arrangements for Cornelia’s wedding I have been fairly occupied. She is thrilled, as it is a good match. I now know I shall be returning to England in a little less than two months, shortly after the wedding. I cannot wait to see you and sweep you up into my arms and scandalize everyone. By the by, many thanks. I received all six Banbury cakes. To my distress, all six had become one enormous crumb. After eating what I could salvage, I took the rest to the Piazza San Marco and shared my crumbs with all the birds. They were all rather appreciative, and now, every time I visit the piazza, the birds seem to remember me and ardently flock to me expecting more. I am therefore asking you to send more Banbury cakes for my new Venetian friends. Christmas will be here soon. How odd to know I will not be celebrating it in England.
I am and will forever be yours,
Remington
December 25, 1824
MY DEAR Remington,
A Merry Christmas to you and your family. I confess Christmas is never as merry for me or Papa as it should be. Our Victor died on Christmas morn, now two years past, and so our celebration today was shadowed by his empty chair and untouched setting at the table, which Papa insists we set for Victor the way we always have done for Mama. I could hardly eat having to stare at those two empty settings. I found Papa lingering in the doorway of Mama’s empty bedchamber. It saddened me so, and achingly reminded me of how much he truly loved her. Though I tried to comfort him, he waved me away and preferred not to speak of it. It made me realize how much I have become like him, always waving others away. You would have adored Mama and Victor, and I know they would have adored you. They were very good at giving advice and forever voicing the brighter aspect of everything. Much like you.
Now as for this naughty business involving your bed, I cannot help but believe anything involving you will be divine. Even if it is naughty. Mrs. Davidson will be sending along another six Banbury cakes for your Venetian friends. You should receive them shortly after this letter. I would write more, but I confess I am exhausted after having spent the entire evening crying over Victor. I promise to write much more next time. I also promise to be more cheerful.
Yours faithfully,
Victoria
February 28, 1825
MY DEAR Remington,
I did not write because I have been waiting to hear from you. I realize you are probably very busy with your new life. I can only fathom how tedious it must be to orchestrate a traditional British wedding set in the heart of Venice. I imagine it would be like trying to eat crumpets with macaroni. I confess, though, I am disappointed you did not write even to wish me a merry Christmas. Grayson has informed me you haven’t written anything to him in two months, either. He worries. As do I. Please write and assure us both that you are well.
Yours faithfully,
Victoria
March 2, 1825
MY DARLING Victoria,
Please forgive my lengthy silence. I did not know how to go about writing this letter. In an effort to increase my funds and offer you a better prospect upon my return, I invested far more than I should have into a Venetian venture that has closed its doors due to corruption. As a result of my stupidity, I am ruined. My secretary and bookkeepers are trying to make sense of whatever finances I have. Though they all assisted in placing this investment, one cannot predict where greed hides and festers within seemingly respectable establishments. Although the men responsible for the corruption have been found and named, the money they swindled from me and others is all gone. I hope they hang every last one of them, as I was not the only one affected by their greed. I have been advised to sell my estate and furnishings in West Sussex as well as everything I have here in Venice, lest whatever meager finances I do have disappear. I am overwhelmed by this imposing weight. Cornelia does not blame me, but she does nothing but cry. What is worse, plans for her wedding were terminated after it was made known how ruined we truly are. Aristocracy is so heartless and superficial in its affections. The dowry that was supposed to be allotted to Cornelia has been put toward our debts, though little good it has done. My stepmother is in complete denial. She still goes out and purchases extravagant things we cannot afford and refuses to return them despite my pleas. Creditors have been demanding payments for weeks. Payments I do not have. There is one measure of hope left, which I am considering. I was offered a rare opportunity to financially redeem myself, though it is far beneath my position in life. I would be nothing more than a servant, but it would eliminate my debts