I had assumed from the very brief notes you have been sending that all was proceeding to plan with you, but once again I discover that my dearest and oldest friend has been keeping a shocking secret from me. You ask my opinion, but I don’t know where to begin, nor do I truly believe you need any advice. You cannot marry a lowly priest, M., you must know that. It would be the end of your life as you know it, and would inevitably precipitate the end of our friendship, too. Surely you cannot seriously be contemplating this? Your visits to Lambeth were your reward for your exemplary behaviour. Your own words, M., I clearly remember them. And how do you return the duchess’s trust in you? By falling in love with a priest. A priest!!!! I still cannot believe it.

Margaret (yes, matters are so serious that I must address you by your full name), you have worked so hard to restore yourself to the good graces of your parents. I truly believed that you were ready to embrace your future as the Countess of Killin with a clear head and a determined heart. Your resolve must not waver now. The consequences simply don’t bear contemplating. Your plan to turn the cold shoulder on your original suitor is bound to backfire. Aside from the fact that a young woman who blows hot and then cold gets herself a certain reputation, I cannot believe that it will forestall the proposal you have worked so hard to earn, and now claim to be dreading. Steel yourself, forget the priest, and marry the earl. It is your destiny.

And now I must reluctantly turn to my own concerns. Oh, M., I feel such a hypocrite telling you to quash your more tender feelings while I—I pray you make sure no-one sees this—while I have foolishly indulged mine. I dare not say any more. I fervently hope every day that my fears will prove unfounded. Perhaps by the time you receive this missive, all will be well. I must believe that, for I dare not even imagine what will happen otherwise.

We leave for Balmoral on the thirteenth, and the queen is as ever most demanding of my time. In the circumstances, I must play the attentive daughter even more assiduously than ever, so I doubt we will meet before Lenchen’s wedding, by which time I hope that both our dilemmas are resolved satisfactorily. Your betrothal will have been settled, and I will have no need to contemplate a country retreat. Thus will our friendship and our reputations be preserved.