The Lost Letters of Lottie

Frances stared at the open letter in front of her, fingers trembling. She added it to the pile and opened the next. 

18th March, 1876

Dearest Frances,

I hope this letter finds you well. Things are unchanged here, and I am dreadfully, most dreadfully lonely. I honestly do not know what I would do without your letters and your kindness. It’s been so long since I have seen anyone other than the servants, that I fear I may have forgotten how to interact with others at all! It is only your correspondence that keeps me balanced and connected to the world outside of Fairview.

Charles continues to keep himself locked in his study and only appears for meals, with us both sitting at either end of the dining table. I am embarrassed to say it, but I cannot remember the last time he touched me, or even looked directly at me. He reads at the table but doesn’t share anything like he used to, and after dinner, he retires to the drawing room and I don’t see him again until breakfast. He no longer knocks at my bedroom door, and I do not know what I have done to make him feel this way. 

I did manage to get out of the house and go riding yesterday, as the weather held fine for a few hours. Frances, the cold up here manages to seep into your bones, and the rain is incessant. But, oh! How I loved this place when I first saw it! The wild abandonment of the moors, the proximity to the beach. I felt that I had truly found a place to call home. I did not then realise that the distance from the nearest town and the difficulty in accessing the Hall would make for such splendid isolation. 

Can you come, Frances? I feel that Charles could not possibly refuse me having a visitor. If I cannot leave to come to you, then maybe you could come to me? I long for a friend, for kind words, for someone with whom to pass the time. Charles has reduced my staff to one maid, claiming we cannot afford more, and although she is perfectly pleasant, she seems afraid to make a friend of me. 

Write soon, dear friend. Your letters are a lifeline.

Yours in affection, 

Lottie.

Frances put the tenth letter on the pile and sat back in her armchair. She had never seen these letters before, yet clearly, someone was answering them. They had been kept from her. But why? 

Frances stood and walked over to the window. Looking out over the garden, she realised that she had been a terrible, terrible friend. She had presumed that once Charlotte had moved to Scotland, she would be too busy with her new life to remember the friends that she had left behind. Frances had written once, just after the wedding, but hadn’t received a reply. But I did receive a response, she realised. It just wasn’t given to me. 

Her reflection in the window stared back at her, unflinching. She tucked a strand of greying hair back onto her bun and turned again to the little side table that held the heavy, cream envelopes. There were still more letters to go. 

5th June 1876

My dearest, dearest Frances, 

I am so pleased with your news! And of course, you cannot travel. You must not even think of it. To be blessed with a child is such a wonderful, wonderful thing. I am incredibly happy for you, my darling. 

Oh, how I wish we were closer. I would love to see you grow and to see the little one when she arrives (for I believe I know she will be a girl!) and I am sad that it seems like I will never join you in this new adventure. With Charles being so distant, at least for now, it is unlikely that I will ever feel the joy of a child growing within me. 

Now you must tell me everything. Is it like they say? Are you dreadfully unwell? I hope not, for that must be awful. I am already planning what I shall make for the new arrival. A baby blanket, perhaps. Or a sweet little jacket? I will send for supplies as I am itching to make you something. Have you thought about swaddling? Oh, Frances, I am equally overjoyed and envious!

I will ask Charles again if I can make the journey down to see you. The last time I asked, there was no pressing need to travel outside of my lethargy and boredom, but surely now he will relent. He must see how much you will need me! 

I do hope you will answer soon and tell me everything. I am planning very much to live vicariously through you!

Fondest, fondest wishes, 

Your Lottie.

Frances caught her breath. A pregnancy? This was a cruel, cruel jest. She had never been blessed with a child, nor even a hint of one. Who was making up these tales and writing such nonsense? She put her head in her hands as the sorrow threatened to overwhelm her. In times past, she had desperately wanted a child of her own, and now, of course, it was far too late. 

She sighed. If it hadn’t been for Ambrose’s unexpected death, she would never have found this box of letters in his office. Why had he hidden them from her? Was it he who had corresponded on her behalf? It all seemed so strange, so bizarre. And of course, now that he was gone, there was no one left to ask. 

12th May 1877

My Dear Frances, 

How empty Fairview feels now that you and little Sarah have gone! I even miss her little cries that woke me from my sleep, and they seem so tender in my recollections. I would give anything to have you live closer by so that I could see more of you both! And Ambrose, of course. He is such a gentleman, Frances, you have done so well. 

It was so kind of you to make the journey up. I know it is not for the faint-hearted, especially in the Springtime when the weather is still so unsettled. You must pass on my thanks again to Ambrose for accompanying you; I would imagine it would have been a very long and lonely journey without him to keep you company!

The timing of your visit really couldn’t have been more perfect. I had worried that when Charles passed last Autumn I would feel even more isolated than before, but that is not the case. I have discovered a charming little community here in Fort William that has welcomed me fully, and I am beginning to feel like my old self again. 

I also have a little secret to share with you, Frances, but you mustn’t tell anyone yet, not even Ambrose, for nothing is final. But…. I have considered taking up a residence in London so that I may spend the winters in town with you and the summers here, at Fairview. Can you imagine, Frances? It would just be like old times! I have spoken to my solicitor, and he has assured me that my finances are secure and that the money that passed to Charles when Papa died is still in the bank, untouched. It would appear that I am quite a wealthy woman!

I know it is wicked of me to say, but at times I feel quite glad Charles had that fall, as ghastly as it was to witness. I cannot look at the staircase the same way since he tripped and fell. But if he were still here, dear Francis, I would still be trapped. 

I will write once I know more about my plans, but for now, I wish you and your family well and hope to see you soon. 

Yours always,

Lottie.

The sun was setting as Frances read through the penultimate letter, but before she picked up the final missive to hopefully unravel this perturbing turn of events, she was interrupted by Helene, who had come to administer her sleeping draught. The house maid followed to light the lamps and to poke at the dwindling fire as Frances sighed deeply.

“Ma’am, is everything well?” Asked Helene, concerned about her mistress’s demeanor.

Frances smiled, sadly. “Not really, Helene. I’ve found something… quite upsetting this afternoon. Tell me, have you seen these letters before?”

Helene paled. “I… I’m not sure Ma’am.”

Frances narrowed her eyes. “You would tell me the truth, wouldn’t you, Helene?”

Helene shuffled her feet. “I’m not supposed to say, Ma’am. Master Ambrose wouldn’t like it. He said not to allow you to get upset.”

“Upset? Helene, there are letters here that I’ve never seen before! Someone in this house has been answering these letters as though they are me! They have even visited my oldest friend and somehow managed to impersonate me… quite successfully, I might add!”

“I really, don’t know, Ma’am. Please, just let me give you your draught and then we can forget all about it.”

Frances took up the glass and then stopped, halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she put it down. “Helene, what is in my draughts?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Ma’am. The doctor sends them, like he has always sent them.” Helene looked down at her hands. 

“Helene, I will ask you once more. What is in my draughts?”

“I’m really sorry, Ma’am, I honestly don’t know,” she insisted. “All I know is that they are to keep you calm and that you have been taking them since…” Helene stopped abruptly, heat rushing to her face.

“Since when, Helene?” Frances asked, sternly. 

“Since Sarah, Ma’am,” she whispered, looking down again. 

“Sarah?” With that one, small word, Frances felt the bottom drop out of her world. “Helene, who is Sarah?” She managed, her voice breaking in the asking.

“The baby, Ma’am. Master Ambrose made me promise not to say. I swear, Ma’am, I wanted to, but I would have lost my place and I didn’t want to leave you alone! Not with her around all the time!” Helene blushed again at her outburst.

“Who, Helene? With who around?”

“That Charlotte, Ma’am,” Helene spat. “No good, she was. As God is my witness. I don’t know why he kept seeing her Ma’am. And once she took Sarah… I knew I couldn’t leave you as well. I’m so sorry, Ma’am, truly.” Helene dropped to her knees and took hold of Frances’s cold hands. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Frances looked at the distraught woman in front of her and placed a hand gently on her head. “It wasn’t your fault, Helene. I know you did your best. But I think it may be time I stopped taking these draughts, don’t you?”

Helene bit her lip and nodded, standing up stiffly. “As you wish, Ma’am,” she sniffed. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Frances waved her hand dismissively. “You may go, Helene. And… and thank you. For your honesty.” Frances managed a smile as Helene scuttled quickly out of the room before Frances changed her mind.

With shaking hands, Frances faced the final letter, as the truth as to what had happened to her began to sink in. 

23rd July 1877

Dear Ambrose,

I am so sorry to hear that Frances is so unwell. Please let me help. I could take Sarah for a little while? I have heard that the stress of motherhood can be too much for some women and that their poor minds’ can struggle. I will keep Sarah until such time that Frances is well again. May I also recommend a physician? He has been most helpful to me, especially after Charles’ fall. Please do not refuse this help, Ambrose; it is the very least that I can do.

I was due to be in London at the end of next month, but will bring my plans forward and come to visit sooner, as I do not believe that we should waste any time. I shall send word when I arrive.

Warmest wishes from your loving friend,

Charlotte.

The final pieces of the puzzle dropped into place and Frances was left alone, heart-broken at the loss of a child she didn’t remember, and the possibility of life that she never had. But there was more to Frances than people realised, and she steeled herself, thinking clearly for the first time in years. Wherever Charlotte and Sarah were, she would take back what was rightfully hers, consequences be damned.