LITMIR.BIZ

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something of its significance. ‘Am I supposed to eat it?’ She passed me a letter.

      

       Madam Virginian

      I believe I am at the end of my wits with distraction concerning my niece’s illness. I am relapsed into a state of mind I thought never to see again. I despair for her and would come to the country myself to doctor her condition did I not suspect my powers are subject to an alteration at present. I write to you alone with the paper herewith and must trust you, though I know little enough of you indeed, to be my niece’s true friend in this, and to keep utmost confidence regarding this letter and the powder. All the world now knows the vile accusations that have been levelled against me of late, regarding my niece, my friend, and – I hardly know how I shall write this – her position in my household. I cannot get out of the house. There is a throng of spies and intelligencers in the street. They conceal themselves but I have smoked them. The powder is the only thing that might save her, and in saving her, save also her beauty. Give him the half as a decoction and have the remnant made up with a kindly oil for his face. Leave on over the pocks. It must not be washed off. Let it fall off rather or grow away. Do as I say. It is the Stone. It is some of the fruit of the damned miracle, which I recovered at the time. Tell no one, as He may have spies that have followed her even to Woodstock to see her nakedness while he is engaged in it. As to the charges they are false. I never engaged myself with the women. These are damned lies put about by a spaniel of Hooke’s. I fear I am not well, Madam, yet she must have the powder. She must not die now. Burn this. They must not know.

       Is. Newton

      I re-read the letter in amazement. I’d never had the chance to see into his illness before.

      ‘I didn’t apply the remedy’ Pawnee said. ‘You’ve mended miraculously enough. Your skin is unblemished.’ As she smoothed my hair back from my forehead she pressed on the little painful bump so that I felt the sharpness of it.

      

      ‘Lucy Elizabeth. You see I’m convalescing, but I’m not infectious, so you won’t be in danger of the smallpox yourself. We can talk while you put these linens away for me.’

      ‘Yes, Miss.’

      ‘You’ve made me think, Lizzy. I need you to tell me things. I need you to tell me what your life holds for you.’

      ‘Miss?’

      ‘What’s going to happen to you?’

      ‘I don’t know, Miss. I don’t think about it.’

      ‘D’you think you’ll get married?’

      ‘Bound to, Miss.’

      ‘And have children?’

      ‘Bound to, Miss.’

      ‘Is that what you want?’

      ‘Yes, Miss.’

      ‘With all the attendant dangers?’

      ‘You mean I could be dead before I’m twenty, Miss.’

      ‘If you put it like that, Lizzy.’

      ‘If they couldn’t get the baby to come out.’

      ‘Or after indeed. Some women … What choice do we have, Lizzy? If we love the man who marries us.’

      ‘Or gets us up the stick. Pardon me, Madam.’

      ‘It’s nothing. Have you been in love?’

      ‘I may’ve been.’

      ‘Have you felt loved? Are you myself who is unspoiled? What is it like to be loved?’

      ‘I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t conceive you. What d’you want me to say?’

      ‘I don’t know these things, you see. I believe I’m a strange sort of woman. I live with a guardian. How should I know things?’

      ‘Are your folks dead? Your Mammy?’

      ‘Yes. They are. Quite. So in asking you I feel I’m asking in private: a magic mirror. Here I’m lighthearted. Can you believe that? It is a special place. If you saw me in London you’d not know me. There I’m usually troubled, but here I find myself closer to … I hardly dare say it because if it were said it might be taken away directly. Well-being. Perhaps it’ll only last one more day. One more day flicking away still faster. I see these flowers you’ve brought in, so clearly. So bright; how couldn’t I have seen such beauty before? I daren’t trust this. I have to go back. Soon. I wish I might stay here, Lizzy. I wish … I need to hear what women … I am a woman now, and shall have to go back to my … my fate. Does your mother love you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Your father?’

      ‘He left.’

      ‘How does it feel to you to be shown your own likeness? We are twins, Lizzy, apart from our difference of precise age. What’s your notion? As if from your side of the glass.’

      A pause. ‘You scare me, Miss, I ask your pardon. Can I go now?’

      ‘Are you a virgin?’

      ‘Sort of.’

      ‘Is there some young man already?’

      ‘Handy. Handy enough.’

      ‘How do you … manage that?’

      ‘We lie together downstairs at my mother’s till he has a house. We don’t do it all up. Just … you know.’

      ‘Do you love him?’

      ‘He’s only a country boy, Miss. He don’t have London manners. You wouldn’t think of him.’

      ‘But you. Do you love him? This love is why we venture our bodies.’

      ‘I reckon I must do.’

      ‘I … No. I … A man will have me.’

      ‘What’s his name, Miss?’

      ‘His name? Charles.’

      ‘How old’s he?’

      ‘Forty. Nearly. A Restoration baby, Lizzy. And now a London man. A powerful, rich, political man, and I don’t know the first thing, Lizzy. I don’t know what I should say if I can’t … if I can’t … to stop him if I don’t … Help me, Lizzy. But you can’t. You can’t, can you?’

      

       To Mrs Catherine Barton:

      Kit, dearest, I am on fire for news of you. They tell me you are alive. I prayed that you should be spared. Confirm by your own hand that my prayers have been answered, and you will lift the devastating anxiety that possesses me on your account. Forgive the familiarity of my address, but is there not already an understanding between us? You must have discerned at our interview so tragically terminated some measure of the depth of my feelings for you; I cannot believe that we two are not in some sense by this time beyond the artificiality of opening politenesses. Kit, we know each other and what we are about; write as soon as you can that all is in truth well with you. I would be, dearest,

       your ardent and ultimate servant, Charles Montagu

      The Suitor

      Pet went back before. Pawnee and I travelled after, with an armed guard, courtesy of an admirer.

      ‘You’re well, Kit. You’re beautiful, by the grace of God. You’re rich in most people’s terms. Why do you frown? We’re nearly at Colnbrook. If there was going to be an attack it would have come by now. There’s no cover here for them to hide in.’

      ‘I’m not afraid of robbers and ravishers. I told you that. I’d use

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