What has become clear to me is that I cannot waste my years waiting for an event which may never happen. In April I will have been married seven years. I am twenty-seven years old, and must accept that the chances of my having a child now are receding. My sister Gertrude is expecting her first child in the spring after five years of marriage, but she is three years younger than me. Your dear mother has invited me to join her at Drumlanrig for the summer, or Montagu House for the Season. I may do one or even both!

And that is quite enough about me! On a much more positive note, I will turn to dear Marion, who has made a great success of the stud farm and provided work for so many disadvantaged young people. It truly is a wonderful venture, and much talked about from County Kildare to Wicklow, Dublin, and beyond. Imagine the excitement then, when Patrick Valentine himself turned up just before Christmas. I have never seen Marion so animated, and so very coy when I teased her about her beau. Mr. Valentine is just as you described, larger than life. Wingfield thought him frightfully vulgar, but I liked him very much. He and Marion seem to me a very well-suited couple, though they both insist that they do not intend to formalise their arrangements. Absence, Marion told me when I asked her (for I did ask—wasn’t that bold of me!) will most decidedly continue to make the heart grow fonder.

I have written far more than I intended and will end now with one piece of news which I hope, knowing your generous heart, you will be pleased to hear. Cameron of Lochiel is to be married, Margaret. The betrothal has not been announced yet, but according to Wingfield, who met Lochiel in London, it is imminent. The young lady is a Miss Helen Blair and, from what little I know of her, is a very kind and good-natured young woman and a fellow Scot. Lochiel will now have a chatelaine for his Achnacarry estate and, God willing, the heir which I am sure he desires.

Now I really must finish. Please write soon.

With much love,

Julia

P.S. How remiss of me not to thank you for my Christmas present. The scarf is exactly the shade of cornflower blue which matches my eyes—and the towels which you sent last year are so lovely I can hardly bring myself to use them!

The Revolution, Wednesday, 20 April 1870

The Revolution, Wednesday, 20 April 1870

THE QUALITY OF KINDNESS IS NOT STRAINED BY LADY MARGARET MONTAGU DOUGLAS SCOTT