12th June, 1895

Philippa,

I hope Pendergast’s is treating you well. I only write to inform you that you now have a younger sister, Cassandra, born this Tuesday. She is healthy – though be glad that you are not at home to hear her wailing at the top of her lungs all night.

If you wonder why your mother is not the one writing, it is because she is quite exhausted from the birth, and has been abed for the last few days to recover. (I am sure you are too busy to want desperately for letters from your mother in the first place, but there is no cause to fret: I expect she will write to you sooner or later.)

Nevertheless – if you were to receive a summons to return home, I must insist that you do not delay, but come at once. Your schooling can wait. Do you understand me?

Your father,
P. Rowle

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Philippa Rowle/Aldous Crouch

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   Alexandra Rowle

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Philippa Rowle was, in many ways, her father's daughter, and this meant she was no fool: all was not well with her mother. She was also smart enough to know that her father had no interest in being reminded of it.

Father had changed, in the past couple of years, and while still not exactly attentive, his affection felt to her now more like something she had to earn. When she was young, it had been perfunctory, but now? Now Pippa worried that it could be lost.

And so, her reply was standard, simple, and not at all likely to make waves.

     

13th June, 1895

Dearest Father,

I am pleased to learn of the arrival of my new sister Cassandra. I am eager to meet her at the conclusion of my time at Pendergast's this year.

Of course, I should never think to dally if so directed. I understand entirely.

With duty and affection,
Philippa

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   Alexandra Rowle

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