Chapter Text
17th of February, 187█:
It is with great sadness that I must write of the tragedy that has befallen our family, the untimely death of my honoured father-in-law, the General Stanley. So soon after Katherine's marriage — truly, the saints know no mercy, not even allowing this poor man the joy of seeing his first grand-child before taking him from us.
That his departure to India, but a formality, was to be so horribly twisted; that my Mabel's beloved father should indeed depart this world on that wretched Afghan soil he was so hurriedly called into service to claim — indeed, this tragedy, nobody could have foreseen. Mabel dearest is inconsolable, and I have found myself in the position of more often than not hosting the entirety of her sisters as they grieve together. With every passing day, his absence is felt more keenly, at the table or in his empty chair by the fireplace, late in the after-noon. Why, I should not be surprised if the maids should occasionally at five prepare the tea with gin he so dearly loved, forgetting that he shall never drink it again!
It is hardly appropriate to speak of money in times like these, and yet even with the General's sizable estate and pension, I find myself fearful of what the future may hold for us. Surely sooner or later, the others shall follow in Mabel and Katherine's footsteps, and for so many sisters, it will be a pitiful dowry they can offer, the longer we all spend sustaining ourselves on this great man's achievements.
Discreetly as it must be, so as not to disquiet Mabel while she mourns this terrible loss, I shall make some inquiries concerning employment anon.
30th of September, 187█:
The fearful days are soon behind us, and once again, I must exalt the grace and generosity of my friends. Although they no longer practise the despicable craft they sharpened their senses for, their eyes remain keen as ever, for no sooner had I confessed my worries to them, and dutifully declined their offers of support (as selfless as predictable of them), that my dearest friend Duke ██████ (truly a king among men, as he was amo—) declared, no, diagnosed with the certainty of a physician, that there was but one profession he could possibly see in my future — indeed, the only one which I had all but apprenticed for — namely, a seafaring one; a conclusion I myself had not yet been able to admit to myself, inescapable though it was. Naturally, piracy not being a trade I should ever stoop so low as to resort to, even should Hunger and Pestilence be knocking upon my door, that narrowed the possible avenues considerably, but through the combined influence of all of them, they have conspired, behind my back and ever so careful to present me with an offer even I couldn't possibly decline, to bestow upon me the captaincy of a recently launched vessel in Her Majesty's Mercantile Navy.
It will not come as a surprise that Mabel is not happy, for this will mean that we shall see each other not for months at a time, but ever the wisest woman I have had the fortune of knowing, she too is keenly aware of the material obstacles her father's passing has placed in our path. However, I have been able to promise her that my new posting shall allow us perhaps nearly half of every year together and that perhaps, if my new career should be without obstacle and I be able to prosper well, I may be able to retire in time. Already, the Viscount ████, as my former comrade Dominic is known these days, has promised to teach me the secrets of the Royal Exchange, that I may invest whatever surplus remains of my commission's earnings and reap for Mabel and I's future.
At last, I feel like a burden heavier than Her Majesty's largest battleships has been taken off my tortured chest!