Once again intent on sending Cassian something to get his attention, Sabine encloses a gift from her new found pen-pal in with a letter. She hands it to the tired, worn-out, slightly senile owl with a pat. Off he goes… once again in the wrong direction…

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Darling,

I miss you and am becoming increasingly consternated with your continued absence from my life! You’ve a very poignant, lasting impression to maintain and I am sending a token of my sentiments along to make the point.

Please hasten to my side this instant, darling! I’ve already written you a crass poem and will find myself bored to tears, reduced to a chittering old maid if you continue this avoidance. I can’t even art properly; there’s not a muse to be found in my abstract loneliness!

Besides, haven’t you made a recent case for trying to marry me into a good household? However will you manage from such a distance!

Fondly, Angrily, Needily,
Sabine Valenduris
(hmph, in case you've forgotten me entirely!)

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Endymion Dempsey (FYI Cassian Valenduris strike 2 #yolo)

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   Cassian Valenduris, Elias Grimstone

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© Fox

4th May, 1893

Miss S. Valenduris,

Although your letter and its contents were a great surprise, I would nevertheless have been glad to hear from you. So please accept my apologies for your boredom and loneliness – though I am afraid I never received said crass poem (?) from you. (Still, knowing your literary ability, I am fain to believe it was full of wit.)

Please accept a bad stanza in return for your thoughtful gift:

Dear Miss Valenduris, my sincerest thanks
For the flower, if it was truly meant:
Its colour strikes a bold impression
— the same goes for its scent.

It seems unthinkable that anyone could ever

forget you entirely,
E. Dempsey

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   Sabine Valenduris

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E. Dempsey. E. Dempsey. There was only one bloody E. Dempsey that Sabine knew, and she’d already made a complete and utter fool of herself in front of him quite recently. There was no way fate had it in for her this badly that her letter to Cassian had fallen in the wrong hands again, right?! Stupid owl!

Heart pounding, cheeks warm, and completely flustered beyond what she could manage, Sabine flopped into the seat by her desk with trembling hands. What had she written to Cassian? What in the world did Mr. Dempsey think of her now?! (How incredibly charming was it that he’d been so polite as to accept her rudeness and even write her back a darling little poem?!) Sabine wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to make her excuses properly enough for this, but she put pen to page in an attempt anyway. One had to start somewhere! Oh Merlin…

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Mr. E. Dempsey,

I do not even have the words to express my sincerest apologies for that horrid letter! There is no excuse for such a thing to reach your hands, and I swear on my notebook that it was meant for Cassian!

Please, I beg you to forget it. Along with my last little outburst. (You seem to always receive the brunt of my dramatics and I feel at this stage I owe you a proper token; it’s a shame my embroidery is so wretched you must think so poorly of me.)

What can I do to make things right? I should hate you to think me an abominably rude individual.

sincerely,
Sabine Valenduris

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Endymion Dempsey

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   Endymion Dempsey

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© Fox

5th May, 1893

Miss S. Valenduris,

I haven’t any idea how it did get to me, but I suppose your owl must have a mind of his own. It does make perfect sense that it was made for a sibling – with several sometimes very irritating siblings of my own, I am sympathetic to your endeavour.

My siblings are also very dramatic, so I assure you I am used to it. So your brother is threatening to marry you off, is he? How goes that endeavour?

I tease, I tease, you needn’t tell me anything. If you would like to make things right, you might advise me how best to be rid of the smell, though? The plant is gone but I admit the odour of it is lingering, a little.

Yours sincerely,

E. Dempsey,
(or,
Your Darling, if you still prefer)

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   Sabine Valenduris

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Sabine had to count herself lucky Mr. Dempsey was so forgiving. This was twice now she’d been anything but ladylike to him, and both times he’d reacted as gallantly and gentlemanly as if it was nothing. A spec on his otherwise perfect day. Her cheeks burned red as she held his letter and read it over again. Your darling. Those words shouldn’t have sent her heart skittering the way it did. She knew he was only kidding… right?

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Mr. E. Dempsey,

Yes, poor Vito has reached senility. We've since retried him, letting him live out his days in peace. I think this latest mishap was Mama's last straw. If you happen to see her at an event this upcoming season, feel free not to mention it, please.

I appreciate your sympathies, they are heartily accepted. I've since run out of ways to get my brother's attention and have given up.

He had made mention in passing of my marrying 'properly' (whatever that means), so I more brought it about to irritate him, but I think it's really Mama who wants me to take such prospects more seriously. I do so hate being put on display and have no intention of thus being handed off.

I wonder at what the season will hold in store here in England. I hope at the least it will be entertaining.

As for the smell, I've asked the friend that gave it to me and she suggests you burn some sage. Ghastly stuff, but I've sent a bit along here. I am so terribly sorry again for the trouble this has caused you.

yours,
Sabine V.

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Endymion Dempsey

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© Fox

7th May, 1893

Miss S. Valenduris,

Poor Vito. I quite expect I’ll go the same way as him one day – just wandering around giving the wrong things to the wrong people, utterly out of my mind until someone puts me out to pasture. Be gentle with him, anyway.

I could not fight the notion of marrying well, but I too pause at the prospect of marrying ‘properly’. I should hope what she means is only marrying happily, else in my opinion there is no good reason to marry at all. (Some people find me rather naive and complacent and entitled to say such a thing, so you must forgive me if you are with them. I may be more a fool than your old owl, but no amount of logic or dire necessity alone could compel to me to marry.)

Sorry. I’m rambling. I hope you do enjoy the season, at any rate. And thank you for the sage!

Yours, a now much

better-scented
E. Dempsey

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   Sabine Valenduris

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Mr. E. Dempsey,

Goodness, I absolutely hope not! While I admit your description has made me laugh, you are far too clever a man to be lost to the neuroticism of senility. For my part, I'm sure my temper will one day drive me to it and I hope to die at peace in a pool of water surrounded by flowers like Ophelia - lost to a madness so content, that madness it does not even seem. And for love.

On this topic-- I have to say, I do quite agree with you. It might not be proper for a lady in any position to admit but I find your take on marriage so refreshing. I too have never aspired to marry for anything but the keenest affection, a sentiment that admittedly has been hard to come by and one that society does not always endorse. I am glad to find solace in at least one other fanciful heart, in exchange for which I offer you the freedom to ramble as freely as you chose. It is not always so simple to find those of like mind.

I'm glad your scent has been refreshed. Next time, I shall endeavor to accidentally send you a bottle of the loveliest Italian perfume in my collection. At least then you may lure not insects but muses.

amusedly,
Sabine V.

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Endymion Dempsey

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   Endymion Dempsey

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© Fox

11th May, 1893

Miss S. Valenduris,

I don’t know who told you I was clever, but they have grossly oversold my qualities. But I do enjoy your picture of madness – madness of a most poetic kind. My parents are poets, you see, so I have a fondness for all romanticism. I can’t help myself.

Society does not endorse it, though I am glad you do. I do not know how well it will serve us – I had hoped to be married by twenty-eight, and I am now half a decade beyond that and no nearer – but no matter! We shall be free and fanciful to the end.

Then I look forward to your next favour with some anticipation. I hope you don’t mind me sending a nice-perfumed favour of my own – though these flowers* come a little too early in life, I hope, to make a part of your watery grave.

Yours, a

like-minded spirit,
E. Dempsey

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* small bouquet of blue periwinkle (early friendship), chamomile (energy in adversity), cabbage rose (ambassador of love), and angelica (inspiration).

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   Sabine Valenduris

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