I have delight in telling you of the birth of our son over last fortnight. I have recovered well from my confinement and Edward is happy in his boy. Aunt Jane has been with me since I was brought to bed and announced the child looks just as you did as an infant. We have named him John Edward, after yourself and his father. We look forward to your visit in July, little John looks forward to meeting his favorite Uncle.
Aunt Jane will remain here with us in the parsonage, only to return to Newburn at summer’s end. Edward and I hope we can persuade her to make her home with us as I worry that her cottage may prove too much a burden in her old age. When you visit, you must urge her to remain with us.
While you continue with us this summer, we hope you can become acquainted with our neighbor Mr. Carbury. He is a fine and amiable neighbor and tradesman in our village. He has recently asked Edward if he might have knowledge, of a person, able to assist him in his carting trade. Edward was happy to be able to give him your name and knowledge of your clerking and accounting proficiency. Edward trusts, you could be useful to Mr. Carbury and this could be very advantageous to your future prospects.
I wish also, you to become acquainted with the Misses Carbury, his younger sister and his daughter of about the same age. They are gentle young ladies of agreeable disposition whose presence enhances the parsonage on many evenings. I have made them aware of your pleasant countenance, and good manners. Your connection Edward and the parsonage can only recommend you to them and the neighborhood.
I have every reason to be thankful for the Providence that brought Edward and our child to me. The distance I am from my closest relations often makes me uneasy and melancholy. My happiness would be complete if you and Aunt Jane would consider removing to our neighborhood.
I Am Affectionately
CharlotteAngela’s return to longhand, and the more personal, less-distracted feelings she derives from putting pen to paper, your prompt is this:A stand-alone scene, fiction or memoir, in 500 words or less, involving a handwritten letter.