Goodness, LADY LYDIA MOWBRAY has arrived in London. SHE is 28, of the WEST SUSSEX MOBRAYS. Though they are RETURNED to the Season, we can only describe them as BOISTEROUS and DEDICATED, dear reader. Accompanied by HER PARENTS, they have settled in and are accepting social calls. But be warned: they are known for their JUDGEMENT. (Tay, 27, she/her, EST)
About Lydia | Family | Skills | Timeline
19th December, 1799 Dearest Mama, There’s not one stream of light out the window. As I look upon my reflection in the mirror, the flicker of the candle on my escritoire bathes me in a warm, unmoving glow. The light blue shadows under my eyes are now a haunting gray. The tips of my fingers are now icy from running them along the frozen windowpane. I hear the clock ring midnight. It has now officially been two days since Heathcliff fell into a coma. I suppose I should feel guilty. After all, it was I who urged him to join his brother and solicitor, who were pheasant hunting in preparation for the impending holiday. It’s to be our last as man and wife, and not Mama and Papa. Yes, I am now ten days past my missed courses. I know I was hopeful the last time, but this must be it, I’m sure. Heathcliff will make a wonderful father, I think. He has mentioned time and again how excited he is to raise the next generation of Gramercy children with me. I must go now. Doctor Prentice is asking for me.
All my love,
Lydia
22nd December, 1799 Conrad, I’m sure you’ve received my missive by now. It was at first light that my darling Heathcliffe Gramercy drew his final breaths. The doctor assures me it was lung fever that had intermingled with an infection which had laid dormant all winter. Nothing however, is going to bring me any solace. My husband, my love, is dead. It is like someone has plunged an icicle straight through my heart. The heavy cloud that is grief and guilt clings to my back now and for ever to come, it seems. I don’t know what I will do without Heath. His mother assures me I am not to be cast out, as if I were worried about that. Mama has sent word and is on her way to me. I apologize that she will not be there for Christmas. Nevertheless, I hope this letter finds you well. Better than I am, at least. I miss you, brother.
All my love,
Lydie
3rd February, 1800
Dearest Mama,
Despite the maudlin occasion, I greatly enjoyed your extended stay after Christmas. It was just what I needed to keep me on my feet and not in my bed. My heart aches as I write, because I must inform you that I am no longer with child. I fear I am becoming a ghost of myself with these losses. I oft think of what terrible things I did in my youth to cause such distress now. Yes, Doctor Prentice says it was probably the fever I had at 15 that wiped me out for weeks. He says I should not give up hope of becoming a mother, but I'm not so sure anymore.
Please give everyone my love, and I beg of you, do not fret for me. I am a big girl and will get through this. I always do.
All my Love.
Lydia
14th March, 1800.
Dearest Brother,
After much consideration and talk with both Mama and the Dowager Baroness, I have decided to quit my mourning early. I've decided it's best for my health to be among friends once again. Sitting alone in this home that was never truly mine does me no good. There will be talk, I know. It's not the most proper decision for someone who has just began to mourn. However, it is my duty to myself to find happiness elsewhere now that I am no longer a wife.
I do hope to see you very soon. It's been far, far too long. The Dowager Baroness will be accompanying me to the season. It is the least I can do to include her, after all she has done for me in the past few months. We'll be staying in our usual haunt, Gramercy House. Please pay us a visit when you can!
All my love,
Lydie











