A letter for Mrs Strange

[ironicalsmile]

Addressed to Mrs Arabella Strange, and spelled to slip under her door, whatever room she may be in at the time that the letter should happen to be dispatched.

Comments

[colored_gowns]

Arabella, unsure if the letter was meant to entertain, draws great amusement from it anyway. Coming to the kitchen in what she can only presume to be the morning, she greets Jonathan with a laugh.

"Spare me the day when I shall be too preoccupied to take breakfast with my husband."

[ironicalsmile]

Jonathan is already seated at a small wooden table by the window, which looks out over a fragrant herb garden - normally a very pleasant view in the morning, as this was conceived as a breakfast nook, and, with the window facing east, at the usual breakfast time of day the sun should be pouring in streams of gold over the table, the birds should be chirping merrily, the bees should be buzzing comfortably away, and the sweet scents of the thyme and lavender just outside the window should be flooding the whole kitchen

[colored_gowns]

"I do not know them either. But I may promise you that whatever they are, they affect me not in the slightest." She smiles. "Is there room enough for me between those books?"

[ironicalsmile]

He glances at the table in some bemusement. 'Between the-- upon the table? Really, I doubt that, even in this place, that is quite the thing. Is there not a chair?' --at which point he seems to realize that he had filled the second chair with several notebooks and a bottle of ink.

'...ah, yes, just sweep those to the side,' he says. 'No, no, not that-- no, I must keep that just here, I have been thinking of new things to add to the subject all the morning. And do be careful with that page, as well.'

[colored_gowns]

She has started to reach for them, but she draws back, laughing. "Perhaps you had best move them yourself. Really, Jonathan, one would think you had never seen a desk or bookshelf before."

[ironicalsmile]

'They are hardly convenient for breakfast,' he points out, reaching across to carefully gather up the papers and books and deposit them on the other side of the creamer. 'The ink bottle you may put wherever you wish. It is replaceable.'

[colored_gowns]

So, she places the ink bottle on the floor (not sure where else to set it), set off slightly from the table. And, with a smile, she sits. "There we are, then."

[ironicalsmile]

'Indeed, we are here,' he smiles back, and, reaching a hand across the table to her, nearly upsets the cream onto his papers. After a moment of reorganization, he tries again to reach for her hand.

'There appears to be quite a variety of food items.'

[colored_gowns]

She laughs and takes the offered hand. "And which have you chosen?"

[ironicalsmile]

'Oh, I--' Still holding her hand in his, he looks down at his own empty plate with an air of confusion. 'I cannot recall now if I chose anything at all. I believe I asked this sort of girl, by the ovens, to make some toast. She seemed to be some sort of housemaid, or at least quite obliging.'

[colored_gowns]

She laughs. "You were doubtless half in your book at the time. Shall I see what might be found?"

[ironicalsmile]

'I suppose that might be best,' he concedes.

[colored_gowns]

So she lets go of his hand and stands, going to see what might be found in one of the many cupboards. "It has been so long since we have breakfasted together, I fear I might forget what sort of doting, wifely things I am expected to say," she comments with a laugh as she rises on her toes to peer into one of the cupboards.

[ironicalsmile]

He watches her with an expression which might almost be termed wistful, save that no one could ever accuse Mr Jonathan Strange of wistfulness; one finger placed between the pages of his book saves his place. 'I fear I have never known the husbandly sort of things.'

[colored_gowns]

"Oh, little is expected of the husband, I daresay," she replies lightly. "You must only bury your nose in the newspaper-- a book will serve equally well-- and nod and perhaps make a few noises as I tell of my plans for the day." She pauses, a jar of jam in hand. "I fear I do not have any. In such a case, you may reproach me for idleness."

[ironicalsmile]

'Ah, mm, er, indeed,' he says, obligingly hiding his face behind his book. This joke might go over quite well, except that for a moment he gets distracted by the words just in front of his face, and it takes him a few seconds too long to put it back down.