Letter from Emma Evans to her cousin, Arthur Phelps.
Transcribed from a scan of the original in July 2012 and March 2015 by
Penelope Forrest, born Phelps, great granddaughter of Arthur.
Abbots Hill Feby 2nd
[1855]
Vol. III
My dearest Pumps,
It is not often I favour you with
letters two mails running – but I mean to do so this time. First you see by the
date that we have really left dear old Bosworth 'for good', as people say –
though the good feels very problematical at present. We came here on Tuesday,
having sent Sarah & Lizzie with Tigger & luggage the day before, & meant to take
up our abode at Jack's house – but they would not let us go there till today & I
am not sorry, as it has been rather more cheerful for Mamma here with all his
children great & small, & Kate Hayward, than it would have been down the Hill,
with no companionship but mine & Tigger's. The dear Mrs
looks a little better again – but she seemed very unwell two days ago. As she
says, she has time to be tired now, & the long bitterly cold journey did not do
her good. You would find her much changed I think. She looks much older & her
hair looks very white under her widow's cap.
We heard from Mary this morning, who
stayed at Bosworth, with Henry till after the sale. She does not write
cheerfully as you may imagine & I dare say you can also fancy her almost
instinctive hostility towards Mr & Mrs
Fagan. It is so impossible not to think of Bosworth as home still. On Monday
Mamma & I called at (at least) 50 houses in the town. We had seen a good many
before, & met many, on whom we should otherwise have called, in the street &c.
It was very trying work – for all the people are so really fond of Mamma, & no
wonder. It is a comfort to feel what hearty good will went with us from all. The
worst goodbye was perhaps at Osbaston for we left them very anxious indeed about
poor Nellie. When I last wrote I told you how ill she was, & she has hardly
gained ground at all since then. Dr Shaw was sent
for again on Tuesday.
He & Mr Hubbard both think that she will in
time get over it – but it seems to become more & more doubtful. She is perfectly
patient & quiet, poor child.
Mrs Cope has been looking unwell for a long time
past, & this great & continued anxiety is telling very much on her.
We found Harriet looking much better
than we had expected. You know she had an attack of pleurisy lately – since the
birth of Master Philip Norman, as she wishes him to be called. Lewis too, who
had a dangerous fit of croup is pretty well again, though much paler. The new
baby is said to be a beauty, but I'm not a judge of babies, so have to take its
beauty on trust completely.
Oh me – after going all that round of
sad calls with Mamma on Thursday I could not help going about the Park – &
looking once more at the old names & initials & the pleasant views & old trees –
very dreary it looked – after sunset on a grey day, with the snow on the ground.
However it was cheerful enough for me. I don't much think the Beaver will
attempt to abscond home again, but she is very unhappy in her mind, & can't
understand anything & doesn't like Cain.
Well now perhaps you want to hear some
more of "My Novel". No, you certainly can't & don't guess who its hero is & I
can't tell you the 1st Vol. now – nor indeed ever.
Many thanks for your letter – it was a very nice one & I was very glad to get
it, as I always am to hear from you – and very glad to hear of your newly
acquired dignities. What a low ebb the orthography of the Regt
must be at when the said dignities were conferred on a youth who writes of them
as "unparraleled" because he is the best speller!
But I want to tell you my history – &
it's not easy to begin.
Perhaps the announcement of the great fact that I am engaged to be
married to Mr Hubbard is the shortest way of
getting into the subject. I will go back though. Last July, as you know, Lizzie
James was taken ill the day on which Papa & Mamma left home. The day before they
returned, Mamma had sent me a letter to direct to Mrs
Charles Bucknill, & as I did not know her address, I asked Mr
H to procure it for me. So he returned with it in a few minutes, & I went down
into the diningroom for it, & after he had told it me, he went on to say that
there was something he wanted to say to me. 'Oh,' thought I, 'I have gone & done
something imprudent in my management of Lizzie, & he is nervous at having to
scold me for it.' Then it came out, with a jerk – to my unspeakable
astonishment. I said no as energetically as I could. I can't tell you the
circumstances I was then in, but they had something to do with the energy of the
refusal, & also I think with my having suspected nothing. I have hardly ever
felt so grieved. He was so fearfully in earnest – & would not be mastered by
what he felt. The conversation, I believe, did not last long, & ended by his
saying he should come in (as usual) about 7. I told him that I would tell no one
of what had happened, for I knew his pride. But he said directly that I must
tell Mamma, which I did the morning after she returned, when she came into my
room before I was up. I told her I had a great worry. 'Has Mr
Bailey been making you an offer?' 'No, much worse than that,' said I. And so it
was. He had deferred saying anything to me till just before Mamma's return in
order to spare me any awkwardness there might be in my seeing him about Lizzie –
and when he came in that eveng I feel sure that
neither Lizzie nor Kitty could have seen any change. He talked & laughed &
applied lightly to me about several things in a way that I, who remembered him
so few hours before, could hardly believe possible. I was very grateful to him.
I too behaved well. When he went, in the morning, I found I could hardly walk
upstairs, it had stunned me so – & Lizzie was waiting for me to read Italian
with her. I went into my room first & rested for a little while – but I never
saw such a funny face as greeted me when I looked in the glass to see if I
looked all right & natural – it was ghastly white, with dabs of red all about it
& my neck – like a wooden horse at a fair. So I had to wait till that very
unexpected appearance had subsided & then I went & read. I don't think either L
or Kitty ever suspected anything of the kind, & I think they will be not a
little astonished when I tell them.
Then after that, I went to Sandbach –
where I was rather idiotic I am afraid – and after a short time more at home, to
Folkestone. Before I came back, the entanglement I was in had rather untwisted
itself, & I felt more free than I had done – but I could not make up my mind – &
could not help thinking (fearing, I may acknowledge now) that there would
probably be no need for me to make it up at all, as he was not the sort of man
to run the risk of a second refusal. Papa was never told – I rather asked Mamma
once to tell him, as I had a sort of feeling that we had not come to the end
yet, but she said there was no need, that such a thing could not ever take place
& that I had refused him, & there was an end of it. But on the 19th
Decr there came a note to me in the evg
to ask me to see him. I could not answer it for I did not want to give any
decided answer to him till after I had been away from him for some time, for I
could not help fearing that all the sorrow & care there was in the present made
me hold on most tightly to the one thought that looked like a hope, than I
should otherwise have done. I took it to Mamma, & she answered it the next
morning – saying that I could not give any answer then – & that if he wanted me,
he must work himself into a very different position from his present one &c &c.
That evening he had a talk with Mamma – saying, as he had said to me on Aug 1,
that he had been foolish ever to think of the possibility of such a thing but
that he could not help it &c &c &c. He was very much excited, but Mamma cd
not tell me whether he went away the happier or not for his talk with her.
After that, we used often to meet, but
never in any way to allude to what had passed. It was a strange state of things,
& used to make me furiously restless. It was the time of all the packing & I
used to try to work at it – but often, when I had got all my things about, this
restlessness used to seize me by the shoulders & turn me out of doors, & make me
walk fast & far before I could settle to work again. Then sometimes in those
walks, I used to meet him – & we used to tell each other that it was very dirty
walking, or something equally to the purpose. I felt strongly too, that, though
waiting was a good thing in its way, it would never make me at all more
acquainted with him, & that, until I was, I could not arrive at a right & wise
decision – & that, after Mamma's letter, he would "remove" his own hand rather
than speak to me again before he had gained some other position in life. So I
made up my mind I would have a talk with him before I left home. Mamma had a
cold about a fortnight ago – & he came to see her – & on Saty
night the 20th Jany
when he was going out of the front door, I stopped him & told him I must speak
to him. Such a flash of nervousness & pain passed over his face – one I had seen
many times before – & he began to talk to me, to tell me that he had always
known it must be so, & a great deal more in the same strain, trying to make it
easy for me to give him his final dismissal, which was the only reason that
occurred to him for my wishing to speak to him. This worked me up to say rather
more than I had intended when at last I was able to speak at all. Then came
Mamma & turned us into the dining-room instead of catching cold in the hall. By
that time he was rather calmer – & I too – & we had a good deal of very serious
talk. I feel so certain that there can be no real happiness when man & wife do
not feel rather alike on the subject of religion that if he had not answered one
or two questions of mine, at the audacity of wh I still marvel, something as he
did, I hope we should not now be on the terms we are. Do you know, the
possibility of my caring at all for him all this time, had never occurred to him
– & when it began to dawn on upon [him] that I was not definitely refusing him,
he says it almost stunned him. Do you remember the old Latin adage, "Ubi tres
medici, duo athei"1? I used to make myself very
anxious about that – for I know it is a true one. As to his opinions – the
framework of religion – I did not ask him. You know the condition of my own.
Well, we had this long talk, & I told
him I did not mean to pledge myself in any way to him, that I wd
go away & think coolly about it &c, & thought I had settled everything just as I
meant. But Mamma asked him to stay for prayers & supper – & then, when he was
going away, he in his turn, wanted to speak to me, so we went into the library,
among the packing cases, and he asked me if I meant to send him away so. I told
him I did – but he did not at all approve. So then I told him that Mamma thought
it much better for me to wait, & that I had the greatest respect for the Mrs's
authority
bottom of page torn and missing
manly following of duty before everything – his unselfishness & almost
incredible humility, & his strength of self-command. He came as a partner to old
Bucknill in May 48 – & was thoroughly disgusted with his position, which he
found to be very different from what he had been led to expect it. He thought it
wd be cowardly to throw it up at once – & the Xmas
following, he came to our house to a dinner & dance, & met me, & said to himself
'There is something to work for.' He had never cared for anyone before – & from
that time to this – 6 years – he has never changed nor wavered. He would not
give any hint of it to me till he thought himself justified as far as money went
– & has been working all this time like 3 men, for this one hope. The change it
has made in him the last fortnight is something wonderful. I don't think I ever
saw a face so happy – & I too am so very happy, so thankful for this great
undeserved blessing. It is strange how entirely impossible it seems to believe
that we have not been engaged a fortnight yet. I feel as if we had
always been engaged – as if it were my natural & normal condition.
He used to trouble his head very much & unnecessarily about little Mr
Bailey. He knew Mr B was devoted to me, & thought I
liked him, which I did, liked him very much
bottom of page torn and missing
how I shall stand all the waiting! Probably 3 years must elapse before
'anything' can happen. Mamma does not like the notion of our settling at B, nor
does he, nor, on some accounts, do I.
He means to take his M. D. degree &
become a Fellow of the College of Surgeons. There are 3 necessary examinations a
year apart, so if he begins at once, that will take 2 years, & it will take at
least a year's work in any new practice to get bread & cheese. Besides, in
giving up a practice, a 2 years' introduction is always considered requisite, &
he has not yet been able to find a partner. If it were known that he
contemplated leaving Bosworth, it would make a great difference in his disposal
of the practice – so we don't talk about it, and the relations have not been
told yet. I told him I meant to tell you. Now you are to write me a good long
letter in return, & to confess that you are very much astonished & that you
never suspected anything in this quarter. Those that have been told, Jack & Ht,
Kate & Fanny, &c are I think much pleased – & I know they will be, more & more,
the more they know of him.
Yes, it is very bad for you to be your
own beau idéal. Get someone else to make you his – or especially her's – & see
if that does not make you humble. I find it has that effect very considerably on
me – and it is such a responsibility to feel that he always takes it for granted
that I would rather have him do right than anything. Last Thursday, he wanted
very much to go to Leicester to have a daguerreotype of himself done – but there
were some patients to be seen. "I knew you would say, 'Do your duty,' so you see
I did not go." I do so trust I may be preserved from ever deceiving him. I mean
to try so heartily to be all that he thinks me. On Monday he was able to go &
brought me a very nice one – very grave – & I am afraid rather sulky looking, as
they often are, but very like & nice. I am so glad to have it. He means to have
business in London before this month
bottom of page torn and missing
1. Where there are three doctors, there are two atheists.
The letter has been folded and sealed with wax. It is
addressed to Ensign Arthur Phelps, 11th Regt Bombay Native
,
Asserghur,
East Indies. At the top is written 'Viâ Southampton.' There is a black Receiving
Stamp of Bombay, 55 March 11