The Arrogance of Elegance

Part the Fourth

A/N: Posting this a little over a week early since I'm fasting from media in general. See ya!

The rain pattered against the window in the parlor as I flipped through the pages of Montesquieu, unable to focus on a sentence, let alone a word. It seems every book I read related back to Mr. Nicolas Burns. We like the same poetry so that reminds me of him, and when I read the philosophy books I remember how Nicolas believes Locke rather than Montesquieu and it brings me back to our debates. As much as I loved Mr. Burns, his occupying my head was distracting me from my relaxing time. I was either thinking about him or planning a way to get him to fall for me.

"Miss Forsythe, there is a letter for you," a voice snapped me from my thoughts. Looking up, I saw Mrs. Cready with a letter in hand. I set my book down, standing up to meet her. She handed me the letter with a curtsy, turning on her heel timidly to walk out.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cready—oh, what on earth—it's wet!" I looked at the envelope to find it slightly wet, spots sprinkled with rain. "Can't the mail carrier do his job?"

"He can't help the weather, Delly," Papa said, not looking up from his paper.

"He could at least help the letter not get wet—" I sighed, striding for the door. "I'll be back, Papa."

I walked through the hall before going up the backstairs which brought me to the landing closest to my room. My maid, Claudia, was fluffing my mattress whenever I entered. She quickly turned to me before curtsying. She was about to exit when I gave her a nonchalant wave.

"No need for you to leave," I said, walking over to my desk by the window. "I'll be out shortly so just do what you were." She curtsied without a word, continuing to make my bed. I grabbed my letter opener, carefully cutting away at the seal. Unfolding the letter I read the contents.

September 30th

Dearest Sister,

I hope you are faring well—I'm doing well enough for a woman who birthed her fifth child. Yes, the baby is born, Magdelline! I just know you'll be excited to find out that the baby is a girl—her name is C__a M_g____ Irv__.

I stopped reading, squinting my eyes to try to read the blotted letters but with no avail. I could only guess what it was, but I felt bad because I had completely forgotten about my sister being ready to give birth. Not to mention, after being an aunt four times, there wasn't anything extra exciting about that—in my opinion anyway. I didn't know her children very well, only meeting them once or twice. I couldn't remember. But nevertheless, I would write back and inquire about my new niece.

The little girl is blond—like most of my children. Their father's blond hair seemed to have been stronger than our dark hair for only Daniel has my hair, though the new little one has eyes like mine. I must tell you about the children.

Little John has grown so much—looking more like the young portrait of Papa every day. His tenth birthday came and went last week which was a blur due to not feeling well the days before labor. But he has been quite fond of watching his father work in the office, often shadowing him. He is growing into quite the handsome boy, but for some reason, he will not part with his long hair. I have tried to convince him but he has refuted me on multiple occasions. He can be as stubborn as you, my dear sister.

Anne is as sweet and mature as ever. She has been practicing her pianoforte and has become quite enchanting with her knack for it. I do believe she will one day marry well for her golden hair and pert nose make her quite the beauty. Not to mention she has a keen eye for painting and embroidery as well. There is one of John's coworkers who has a young boy of twelve that I am hoping she will one day marry. They have got along quite well whenever the Montecliffe's visited. His name is Clarke Montecliffe which is quite the name if I must say so myself. I hope to match them whenever Anne gets to the right age.