five and eighty. a letter and some business.
Well, I suppose this might serve as a warning to anyone wishing to marry in the near future. Think you, being inextricably linked to someone for the rest of your life! Their disappointing behaviour will be yours to bear, forever and ever until Judgement Day, amen.
Tis even worse on the Barge.
[Warden Filter]
Does anyone without an inmate wish to look after my husband's whilst he broods down in Level Zero?
Dear Agitator,
I have asked for justice, because I can do nothing else. I have asked for fairness in judgement, because I can hope for nothing more. I wish for justice for the Marquis, even if he fights it, and I wish for fairness for you, even if I was so cross with you that I doubted that you deserved it.
My dear Agitator, what have you done? Your anger has found you imprisoned, and for what? A wife that is sickened by your actions, and the entire populace gossiping and wondering aloud whether or not you are even fit to be a warden?
Let me tell you a story, sir, for I muse on it now and think it may keep company with your thoughts of guilt and remorse.
You had been in the ground for some months when your headstone was finally finished and placed over your grave, and I visited you and weeded the ground every day until I could no longer walk, so great was I with child at the time. Though I was alone, so very alone, and frightened of what was to come, I grew brave when I sat upon the ground and kept up the graves of my deceased husbands and friends. It brought me comfort, and it helped soothe my grief.
For you see, sir, I grieved and grieved until Elizabeth thought I might make our child sick. Losing one husband is a heartbreak, and losing a second is a tragedy, and the death of a third is catastrophic. Some women simply give up, for it is a sign that God must not wish a woman with three dead husbands to ever love again. After a time, of course, my grief began to fade. I had the babe to think of, and Fanshawe was falling down around me, and Elizabeth and the children had come from London to stay with me until little Beth arrived. I was busy, and in truth, when I was bed-ridden I did forget to clear the grass from the graves.
And then she came, Edward. Oh, dear Agitator, she arrived and was placed into my arms, and she was pressed and squashed and wailing, and I was aching and exhausted, but she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was alive and healthy, and her little hands were grasping my finger, and then she opened her eyes and I saw you. Right there, as she searched my face and glanced about the room, I saw the man that I had lost so many long months prior. I wept as I held her. I wept for what she was to me, what she could never know, and what she was sure to be. I wept because I was overcome with such joy, and still so much sorrow. She was so perfect, and she was mine, and you had given her to me.
I thought of this whilst throwing a teacup at the wall. Just to keep you properly informed, sir.
You gave me life twice, Sexby. I think I should hate you for it, I am so indebted to you, but I suppose love takes such bitter thinking away. You pulled me down from the triple tree, breathed life back into me, and then you married me. You blessed me with darling little girl and then died, cursing her to carry on your eyes, your grin, and your hair. I cannot escape you, even if I tried.
You bastard. You fiend. You tyrant.
I meant not what I said about you not deserving Beth. In that moment I thought it was so, but I had been so mad with anger that I could have struck you across the face myself for what you had done. You deserve her, as any man deserves to see his child, but my disappointment remains that you had acted so carelessly and put all that you have earned in danger.
Dear Agitator, dear Leveller, I will have justice. Your anger has done us both harm, and I spoke no lie when I stated that you broke my heart. However, I love you still, for I can do nothing but.
Your tired, disappointed, angry, and loving,
Angelica
Tis even worse on the Barge.
[Warden Filter]
Does anyone without an inmate wish to look after my husband's whilst he broods down in Level Zero?
Dear Agitator,
I have asked for justice, because I can do nothing else. I have asked for fairness in judgement, because I can hope for nothing more. I wish for justice for the Marquis, even if he fights it, and I wish for fairness for you, even if I was so cross with you that I doubted that you deserved it.
My dear Agitator, what have you done? Your anger has found you imprisoned, and for what? A wife that is sickened by your actions, and the entire populace gossiping and wondering aloud whether or not you are even fit to be a warden?
Let me tell you a story, sir, for I muse on it now and think it may keep company with your thoughts of guilt and remorse.
You had been in the ground for some months when your headstone was finally finished and placed over your grave, and I visited you and weeded the ground every day until I could no longer walk, so great was I with child at the time. Though I was alone, so very alone, and frightened of what was to come, I grew brave when I sat upon the ground and kept up the graves of my deceased husbands and friends. It brought me comfort, and it helped soothe my grief.
For you see, sir, I grieved and grieved until Elizabeth thought I might make our child sick. Losing one husband is a heartbreak, and losing a second is a tragedy, and the death of a third is catastrophic. Some women simply give up, for it is a sign that God must not wish a woman with three dead husbands to ever love again. After a time, of course, my grief began to fade. I had the babe to think of, and Fanshawe was falling down around me, and Elizabeth and the children had come from London to stay with me until little Beth arrived. I was busy, and in truth, when I was bed-ridden I did forget to clear the grass from the graves.
And then she came, Edward. Oh, dear Agitator, she arrived and was placed into my arms, and she was pressed and squashed and wailing, and I was aching and exhausted, but she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was alive and healthy, and her little hands were grasping my finger, and then she opened her eyes and I saw you. Right there, as she searched my face and glanced about the room, I saw the man that I had lost so many long months prior. I wept as I held her. I wept for what she was to me, what she could never know, and what she was sure to be. I wept because I was overcome with such joy, and still so much sorrow. She was so perfect, and she was mine, and you had given her to me.
I thought of this whilst throwing a teacup at the wall. Just to keep you properly informed, sir.
You gave me life twice, Sexby. I think I should hate you for it, I am so indebted to you, but I suppose love takes such bitter thinking away. You pulled me down from the triple tree, breathed life back into me, and then you married me. You blessed me with darling little girl and then died, cursing her to carry on your eyes, your grin, and your hair. I cannot escape you, even if I tried.
You bastard. You fiend. You tyrant.
I meant not what I said about you not deserving Beth. In that moment I thought it was so, but I had been so mad with anger that I could have struck you across the face myself for what you had done. You deserve her, as any man deserves to see his child, but my disappointment remains that you had acted so carelessly and put all that you have earned in danger.
Dear Agitator, dear Leveller, I will have justice. Your anger has done us both harm, and I spoke no lie when I stated that you broke my heart. However, I love you still, for I can do nothing but.
Your tired, disappointed, angry, and loving,
Angelica