| Félix Rosenthal: 17 Sept 1942 |
[14 May 2009|01:59am] |
|
Written in a journal that had been a gift from his late wife Nora, and strongly warded:
My dearest Nora,
I've just received a rather surprising letter from the guardian of a young lady who apparently is involved in an intimate relationship with one of our sons. Not surprising, you say? Ah, but it's not Vincent who has been indiscreet, it's Michel and Juliana Leffoy - who can only be little Liane de Marigny, though after two years she can't be so little anymore. Yes, I know, you said they'd make a good match once she grew up. I should know by now that you are always right about such matters. You'll be pleased to know that Lavinia and Yvon share your opinion.
But they seem to have caused quite the scandal at the Royal Academy - though I suspect there has been some exaggeration involved, because we both know that Michel knows better than that - and tomorrow I'll have to go talk to Dracaena Leffoy and straighten this all out. I wish you could have been here; you were always much better than I am at handling parents.
Still, if there's any truth at all to the matter, then our dreams of someday seeing grandchildren finally have a chance of coming true!
All my love, Félix
|
|
| Elena Ferrer: 17 September 1942 |
[28 Apr 2009|01:59am] |
|
There is a storm to the north and it is not limited to gadjikane space. The ship's captain is not one of us, but he had the sense to ask my advice; I have told him it would be worse were we to be trapped in port, so we will attempt to outrun it.
Mitchell is not one of us either, but neither is he one of them. While it is for good reason that we do not often trust his kind, I have come to believe he is an exception. He brought the Germans down on us, it is true, but it was not his intention to do so, and he did help us to get away when he could have taken the opportunity to escape on his own. Instead he has sworn to help me find them again, even the ones who were lost before we met.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 22 August 1942 |
[16 Apr 2006|09:29pm] |
|
Frank told me I didn’t have to go with him to the manor tomorrow if it would make me uncomfortable, but I told him that I would anyway. Even though, quite frankly, I am less than comfortable about going there. After all these years, I may have finally grown used to living on Leffoy land but visiting their home is something else altogether. How can I not? They’re Leffoys.
I’m sure if Mercy knew, she’d find it ridiculous of me, but Mercy was another Pendry Caerleon and she’s always, always been braver than me. Better with people too, but that goes without saying. It’s hard to believe we’re truly twins. Hortensia and Mercia. Hortense and Mercy. We weren’t sorted together. In a way, I was glad we weren’t.
She wants to meet with me. I haven’t written her back because I don’t know what to say to her.
I don’t like it that she’s playing concubine to another woman’s man, even if that woman is such a harridan as Poppaea Rosier. But I’m not Marcus either.
|
|
| Heloise Abbott: 22 August 1942 |
[09 Apr 2006|10:23pm] |
|
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 21 August 1942 |
[01 Apr 2006|03:20am] |
|
I don’t want to even think about the Leffoys. Frank says he--she--it? was never dead in the first place but it certainly looks as though it’s come back from the dead.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 19 August 1942 |
[19 Mar 2006|12:16am] |
|
I knew she was clever—if I ask her to bring me a book, she’ll always fetch the right one and I thought for some time she’d just memorized which ones they were—but that she’s reading full sentences already—
It’s a heady feeling, to know you’ve produced something with that clever of a mind. I really do wonder what Heloise will be like when she’s older.
Funny. Every other entry I’ve written this last month has been full of complaints. It makes for a nice change to write something when I’m not upset.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 17 August 1942 |
[13 Feb 2006|02:06pm] |
|
If this is what Hyacinthe has to deal with on a regular basis, I’m not surprised she has such a tendency to flee.
I’m just glad we got out before crockery was hurled. Or glassware, anyhow. Though at least one of them managed to clean the floor and dispose of the offending projectile in the bin, instead of leaving it for Heloise’s bare foot to find.
Once the children are back at school I want out.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 10 August 1942 |
[06 Jan 2006|07:48pm] |
|
I really don't want to know why Theo and Jenny came home covered in what I am told is bat droppings. Suffice to say, that they were playing with the Leffoy boy is excuse enough. It has to be, because while they have on occasion tracked mud into the house, there is a great deal of difference between mud and, well, this.
And Hyacinthe has disappeared. Damn her.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 2 August 1942 |
[25 Nov 2005|11:21pm] |
|
Hyacinthe is very sweet and I know she's not an idiot (she did tutor me in Greek some twenty-odd years back) but sometimes I'm not sure where her mind goes to. She ought to really know better.
I should write about what happened last night, but it's too painful. At least Theo was able to see his birthday.
|
|
| Hortensia Pendry Abbott: 1 August 1942 |
[18 Nov 2005|11:13pm] |
|
Damn the Leffoys.
I don’t know all the details. I don’t know if I want to know all the details. I just know in my heart of hearts that this is all because of them.
And I can’t tell anyone. Not Frank, not Hyacinthe, not the children. I have to keep a stiff upper lip for everyone, even if the truth is that I want to be home, hiding under our bed.
I hope this church is as well-defended as Frank thinks it is.
|
|