Dear Louisa,
I must tell you, foremost, that of all the fermented fruit drinks, cider is my very least favorite. I had some of the poisonous elixir whilst sneaking off to a local town festival called Samhain yesterday evening.
I have since been confined to my bed with a most painful ache in my head. I am just now writing to you because I can stand no longer to lay still in my bed covers. I do apologize, however, if my writing is not its best in this letter due to the health of the scribe.
I, however, must fight through the unwell feelings and quickly write all I can remember to you before it is lost to me. I can honestly say that last night was one of the best of my life on a variety of levels.
To start, Samhain is a night of festivities when all spirits, both good and bad, are said to walk the earth and druids connect with those lost to thank them for a bountiful harvest. Of course, now it is more of a cultural tradition than of a religious nature.
Though some may look down upon such activities, I find that taking a moment to show gratitude and remember those gone is a very wonderful idea.
Normally, such things would be frowned upon to attend, though I should mention the idea only came to me when Lady Abigail herself claimed to sneak to such an event in her youth. I am happy to say, however, that one of the perks of my now lowered position in life is that I am afforded many more freedoms, without judgment of my actions.
I went with Betsy. She, as well as a few other maids, all dressed in white and danced around the fire in a most magical turn. Though I was at first reluctant to go, Betsy convinced me otherwise. I am eternally grateful for her encouraging friendship.
It was much to my great surprise, upon arriving at the festivities, that I found that I was not the only one to have my interest sparked my Lady Abigail’s tales. The Marquess of Bellfourd, himself, found me amongst the crowds and came to my side.
At first, I felt very embarrassed, perhaps even a little worried. I was not certain that the duke and duchess would be happy to hear of their governess participating in pagan traditions. And certainly, if for any reason Lady Lydia was to find out, the remainder of her time at Wintercrest Manor would be even more unbearable than it has thus far been.
I already expounded to you the conversation we had in the garden and the offending article that she has chosen to hold over my head.
As the night proceeded, Lord Bellfourd chose to stay by my side. It was most refreshing to have his companionship again without the added party of Lady Lydia.
After the druid maidens performed their dance, the area was opened to all couples as a lively band played. I would say it was much the same as a public dance hall from that time on.
Lord Bellfourd joined right into the party as if he was one of them. He took Betsy on a turn around the bonfires, and then also her younger cousin Fiona.
I also couldn’t help but be caught up in the festivities. I first danced with Samuel, the coachman, and Mr. Hillary, the postmaster. As I am sure this will come to a great surprise to you, I was even asked to dance by Mr. Larson, the head butler.
I must confess my mouth most surely dropped to the ground when he came to ask me. Though I knew he had a mild Scottish accent and therefore most likely came from farther up north as so many of the servants do, I would never have considered him the type to frequent uproarious events.
There he was, however, and actually, a very jolly dancer. We danced two jigs together before I had to stop and catch my breath.
I originally worried that an outdoor festivity would be too cold to stand, but with all the movement and warmth of the fire, one could not even tell we were outside.
While I took a moment to catch my breath, I drank the delicious but beguiling cider and watched Betsy, His Lordship, and other familiar faces dance around.
I so wish I could take that image in my mind and make it into a portrait. I am certain, if it was done, the world around could see the image of joy and happiness encompassed into one.
I cannot help but to smile now as I remember and write these words to you.
The look on Lord Bellfourd’s face as he danced around the fire’s glow was one that I had never fully seen on him before. It was, however, one I saw quite often on my father as he spoke to me of his next adventure. It was pure happiness, without restraint. I could see clearly why he had so many reservations about coming back to his home, after being free out on the ocean.
Perhaps it is also the same reason that my own father never gave up the adventure of a voyage. It created a light and freedom for a man who couldn’t find it otherwise.
After catching me watching him, Lord Bellfourd promptly came to my side and insisted I dance with him.
I suppose the only thing better than seeing a moment worthy of a portrait is becoming a part of it.
Soon the night grew late, however, and I felt that I was in great need of the warmth and calm of my bed. The night of merriment had led to many more cups of cider, and I was already feeling the effects of it.
It was on that walk back to the manor, with Lord Bellfourd to accompany me, that he said the most interesting things. I am not sure if I can trust my memory of the event, but it seemed to me that he might have alluded to sharing some of the feelings that I have already shared with you, that I have for him.
As I said, however, I cannot be entirely sure that I heard him right, or only heard what I hoped he would say.
All I can say with complete certainty is that I have grown far too close to Lord Bellfourd, his family, and the whole of Wintercrest. I fear they have all found a place in my heart that can never be removed or altered.
Your Dearest Friend,
Isabella