My dearest Louisa,
I fear my heart is broken. It is with the saddest news I find myself writing to you today. Just yesterday I received a visit from Mr. Jenkins, my father’s lawyer.
As you know, my father was on a ship set for Cayman Island in relation to his import business. As I had mentioned a few times at our last meeting, I was becoming exceedingly concerned since his vessel had not yet returned. Without any ill news, I hoped that they had only been delayed by poor wind and calm waters.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. While in the tropics, father contracted a most dreadful fever. His most experienced sailors fell ill.
To prevent the sickness from spreading, ill people were to be left behind to recover and return home with another vessel. My father was too prominent of a figure to just leave behind, and the MHS Poseidon decided to stay in Cayman Island for a fortnight to allow him to recover.
I am told the fever passed. For that I am grateful, but why did my stubborn father have to push himself? I don’t know how to feel. You are aware of how much I disliked him going on these journeys to begin with.
Having gained his strength back, father sailed Poseidon homeward, but his health took a turn for the worse.
The ship's surgeon did all he could to help, but in the end, it was not enough. My father passed away a little over a month ago in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. There’s nothing I could have done, and I resent myself for that.
Mr. Jenkins, having been informed himself just last night upon the arrival of the ship, came to bear me the sorrowful news this morning. He assured me that my father had the most lavished and honorable burial at sea that could be mustered for the situation.
I am so overcome with confusion and sorrow. It is a wonder that I can compose myself to scribe such a letter to you.
Though father was always very busy with his business and adventures, he was a loving and attentive man. I feel my life vastly emptier without the assured knowledge that though he may be away, he will always return home here to Rosewater house.
Mr. Jenkins has also informed me that I will need to come to his offices on the morrow to discuss my father's estate and I suppose, to some effect, what is to become of me.
I cannot even imagine being able to subject myself to conversations of financial and worldly status when my heart is so full of turmoil.
It is for this reason that I must offer my deepest regrets to inform you that I will not be able to accompany your excellent mother to tea. Please tell Lady Gilchrist that I send my deepest regrets.
I hope that I will see you very soon, my dear Louisa, so that I may receive comfort from the words of wisdom you always seem to use so deftly.
With humble heart,
Isabella
The next evening Isabella received a return letter from Lady Lydia in the five o’clock post.
My Dearest Isabella,
It is with the heaviest of hearts that I give you my deepest condolences on your loss.
I have informed her Ladyship of your necessity for absence from her humble event tomorrow afternoon. Though you will be greatly missed by not only my mother but all those who are to attend, we all understand your need for time to quietly reflect and compose yourself.
Please do not fear for your well-being. Your father was a good man, and I am confident that he will provide for you even after the untimely event of his death.
As soon as you are able, I invite you to my residence so that I may be able to comfort my dearest friend in her time of need.
Your humble friend,
Louisa