A Compendium of Letters
These are the letters found in the wrapped fabric that was in the trunk that was in my attic. Still not sure what this is about? Watch the video unveiling the source material for A Sword for Wellington.
Hugh’s Letter to His Sister
22nd June, 1814
Dearest Sister,
Home at last. The Peninsular campaign is my only experience at war and I hope never to see the like again. Napoleon is vanquished, exiled, and Europe has its first taste of peace.
I have returned with Wellington to accept our country’s accolades for his Victory. I have no desire to return to the family seat just yet. I know Mother will weep copious tears and take to her bed with a sick headache. Our brother James would wish me quit of the place. It is his home now, not mine. And no, not even you, dearest sister, could entice me hither. All your distress and pity would overwhelm me. I have no room for it. None at all. It is too costly for what I deal in: war and peace. Let others have that luxury.
Wellington understands. We have been at war for so long. It is difficult to be civilised again.
Paris was wild—the roar of cannon and gunfire replaced by loud music and screaming cheers. There is still unrest and it is said Wellington will return there as British Ambassador. I will not go with him. My face is not fit for the work of charming and deceiving.
Instead I will stay with our aunt Meredith in south-east Wales. Will you forgive me for not stopping by our brother’s estate?
Do not weep for me, sister. I have learnt that anywhere I lay my head is home.
Later—
I am exhausted. The fetes for Wellington and the European monarchs are extremely tiresome. The women all want a piece of Old Nosey, even in the presence of dear Kitty—and when they can’t have him, one of his aides will suffice. Naturally, I offered to escort Lady Wellington home. She is as much in awe of the Great Man as the rest of us, but understands him less.
I hear you sigh, dear sister. I leave it to the magazines and papers to relate the details of this evening and of who wore what, who spoke to whom, for I’m sure I couldn’t tell you.
Let me speak frankly. Women are either frightened by my scar, or fascinated by it. Both responses disgust me. There isn’t a London miss who doesn’t blanch at the sight of me. I know I do the right thing in leaving Wellington’s service when he departs for the continent.
Kitty (Lady W) tells me she is sure it will fade in time, and indeed it already has somewhat—but I am scarred on the inside too, dearest sister, and I doubt time can ever fully heal these wounds of war.
Now, before you start gossiping, I should reassure you that Lady W treats we aides like we are one of her boys. This much she does understand about her husband and his second family. I am the quietest of them all and she doesn’t seem to mind my presence too much.
Enough self-pity. You alone get to hear my fears and doubts and I know my secrets are safe with you. I doubt that anyone else even guesses at their existence.
Forgive me for having delayed so long in writing. I do long to see you again and wonder how my baby sister has grown into the accomplished woman that your letters tell me you are. Don’t come to London to see me. We won’t be here much longer. I’ll send for you when I can, if James will allow it, and if you wish to come to the wilds of Wales.
Yours,
Hugh
Correspondence Between Mrs. Trevisan and Mr. Widcombe (and her lawyer)
Dear Sir,
It has come to my attention that my aunt, Mrs. Susan Cogswell, loaned you a copy of my novel “A Sword for Wellington”. She meant to give you another copy, instead of the one you now possess and have yet to return to her.
I would be pleased to send you a fresh copy of my work, should you treasure it so, as the copy now in your custody contains a personal family letter that I would like returned. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Olwen Trevisan
Dear Madam,
That your aunt is up in the limbs of dementia and unable to discern what to keep and what to dispense with is none of my concern. Nor is the letter you claim is now in my possession. Your novel has ruined my life: I am no longer considered as a reliable academic and have been forced into deep poverty. I have sold all my personal effects in order to keep myself out of the workhouse and yet, here I find myself. If you had not brazenly lied in your novel, I would be a free man today.
WW
Dear Sir,
Your letter came as quite a shock and I am afraid I fail to comprehend how my novel ruined your academic career. It is, and always has been, a work of fiction, based upon my beloved parents falling in love. Have you sold the novel? If so, may I inquire as to whom so that I may retrieve my father’s letter? My aunt died a few months ago, and I am assisting my cousin sort her estate, hence my inquiry and the hope we could retrieve a sliver of our family history.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Olwen Trevisan
You horrible woman. Is all you care about a piece of paper? What about what you have done to me? I demand recompense for all the damage you have done to my reputation, my livelihood, and my soul. The sum of $1,000 should be sufficient.
WW
Sir,
I am Mrs. Olwen Trevisan’s solicitor. I advise you to cease herewith any future correspondence with my client, otherwise I shall inform the police of your sad attempt to blackmail her.
Sincerely,
Mr. Alfred Coopwood
Letters to Mr. William Widcombe Regarding His Research
Dear Sir,
His Grace advises me to inform you that the Duke of Wellington rode into the battle of Waterloo with a reliable British cavalry sword. He has no comment regarding the content of Mrs. Trevisan’s novel.
Sincerely,
Sir James Arnold
Secretary
My dear fellow,
I am not sure what you are trying to get at, but I can tell you that before they married, the Devenishes were both at Brussels. It is where Sir Hugh fell in love with Miss Gwenneth, who is a most unusual character. She did meet with the Duke of Wellington privately, outside of the usual balls and routs we all attended, and once in the company of Sir Hugh Devenish and a Miss Pendyr, now known to us as the Queen of the Dreigiau môr. They met in Paris also. I have read their daughter’s novel and I would say that while she has captured their character and their romance, all the rest is fiction.
Respectfully,
Charles Somerset
Dear Sir,
I am deeply puzzled by your letter and remind you that my daughter’s work is a novel, written to honour our wedding anniversary.
As most in our circle know, my wife became a ward, then companion, of my aunt Lady Meredith Rathven. I do not know what inspired my aunt to commit such a great act of generosity, only that I am forever grateful that it brought my dear wife into my view. Her origins are poor, humble and Welsh, and any further particulars are unnecessary.
As for the sword—it is naught but a fiction woven by my daughter who loved to hear her mother’s fanciful tales while still in her leading strings. She did this to honour her mother, my wife, and there is nothing more to it than that.
Sincerely,
Sir Hugh Devenish
Ambassador to the Dreigiau Môr
Dear Sir,
How curious that you write to me about Mrs. Gwenneth Devenish after all this time. My mother and I were indeed in Brussels right before Waterloo. She was in the company of Lady Meredith Rathven and Sir Hugh Devenish. I remember because Sir Hugh is quite deformed in appearance and Miss Jones (as she was then) seemed uncomfortable in her own skin. We never became bosom friends. Indeed, outside of Lady Meredith and Sir Hugh, I do not think she had any friends.
I do not know if they ever met with His Grace privately, but they did attend a few of his salons and the ball he hosted for society’s pleasure.
I have not read Mrs. Trevisan’s book as my tastes rise higher than such hapenny fiction. I hope my response helps your research in some way.
sincerely,
Mrs. Jane Balfour nee Ackland
Dear Sir,
It is curious you ask after such a person as Mrs. Devenish. She was Miss Gwenneth Jones when I knew her in Brussels, and it is more precise to say that I knew of her. There was one scandal where she engaged in a street fight with nothing more than a broom, and this is all I know about her, other than I heard she did indeed marry Sir Hugh Devenish, not surprising after she danced with him three times at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.
I have not read the book to which you refer in your letter, but for the price of 20 pounds, I wuld be willing to share further details regarding Miss Jones that I heard from my now-deceased husband. I hope you will take pity on this widow of the battle of Waterloo.
Sincerely Yours,
Becky Sharpe
Letter Accompanying Eidothea’s Diary
Dear Sir,
I have heard of your enquiries amongst many of the British citizens who resided in Brussels prior to the Battle of Waterloo, and that you are greatly interested in the truth of what occurred during those days, and that more recently, you have attempted to publish an article regarding King Arthur’s sword being at Waterloo. I have in my possession a diary that should shed a great deal of light on this subject, and in a way which even you could not foresee. I am sending it to you because the truth does not reside in darkness and must be brought to the light for all to see.
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