and that she paid him back by deliberately cutting off contact. Always uncertain of getting her emotional needs met, Isabella did her usual thing and simply ceased presenting them, withdrawing into the self-contained competence where she felt most comfortable. Unsurprisingly, when she does eventually deign to write on 2 May it is simply to ask Sam stiffly to bring down some embroidery that was being professionally cleaned in London. ‘I know your dislike to luggage, but as this is a parcel you can stow away in one of the large pockets of your very large coat, you will I am sure not mind troubling yourself with the said packet.’ She also pointedly reminds him of his promise to arrive on the 6.15 from London, ‘so if you do not make your appearance you will have much to answer for’, although she does soften it with an emollient ‘Goodbye with much love and many kisses.’ It looks as though it is to this letter that Sam replied with a sharp little note, the tartest he ever wrote: ‘As I think you will have so much to do, and your house be so pressingly full, I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you next Saturday and am Yours most affectionately S. O. Beeton.’
Panicked by a tone that she has not heard before, perhaps terrified that he was going to break off the engagement altogether, Isabella immediately responds with an abject apology. Writing probably on 3 May she is contrite, aware that she has been beastly.
I know I have been a very cruel, cold and neglectful naughty girl for not having written to you for so many days and cannot sufficiently reproach myself for the sad omission … What a contrast is my frigid disposition to your generous, warm-hearted dear self; it often strikes me, but you know I cannot help it, it is my nature … You have guessed my weak point, for if there is one thing more than others I detest, [it] is to be chafed in that quiet manner as you did in the note I received this morning … Now my darling I must say good bye, hoping you will freely pardon this my first offence (at least I hope so), with much love,
Believe me, my dearest boy,
Yours penitently and most lovingly,
ISABELLA MAYSON
Pray don’t write any more cutting letters as you did yesterday, or I don’t know what will be the consequence.
Isabella’s apology apparently did the trick and from this point the correspondence resumed its normal rate, although lingering tensions about the way that Bella allows her parents to dominate her continue to prevent an entirely easy exchange. Indeed, the ‘dreaded subject of interference’ (Sam’s words) is still something that can be guaranteed to trip them up, get them cross, have them each retiring to their own corners to stew and fret. On 26 May, and still cogitating on the subject, Isabella sat down in an attempt to explain her position to Sam:
My own darling Sam
As I have here two or three little matters in your note of yesterday which rather puzzled me, I thought I must write and ask an explanation; very stupid of me you will say, as I am going to see you on Wednesday morning, no doubt you will think I could just as well have my say then as trouble you with one of my unintelligible epistles. In the first place in what way does Bella sometimes now pain Sam just a little? Why does he not wish to be near her? Secondly; what right has he to conjure up in his fertile imagination any such nasty things as rough corners to smooth down, when there is one who loves him better and more fondly than ever one being did another on this earth at least. Oh Sam I think it is so wrong of you to fancy such dreadful things. You also say you don’t think I shall be able to guide myself when I am left to my own exertions. I must certainly say I have always looked up to, and respected, both parents and perhaps been too mindful of what they say (I mean respecting certain matters), but then in a very short time you will have the entire management of me and I can assure you that you will find in me a most docile and willing pupil. Pray don’t imagine when I am yours – that things will continue the same way as they are now. God forbid. Better would it be to put an end to this matter altogether if we thought there was the slightest possibility of that, so pray don’t tremble for our future happiness. Look at things in a more rosy point of view, and I have no doubt with the love I am sure there is existing between us we shall get on as merrily as crickets, with only an occasional sharp point to soften down, and not many, as you fancy … Good night, my precious pet, may angels guard and watch over you and give you pleasant dreams, not drab colours, and accept the fondest and most sincere love of,
Your devoted,
BELLA MAYSON
Burn this as soon as perused.
Either in response to this letter or a slightly earlier lost one, Sam acknowledges with obvious relief that Isabella does, finally, seem able to see that her relationship with her parents would need to change once they were married if either of them were to have a chance of being happy.
Bouverie
Tuesday aftn
My dearest Bella,
I was most delighted with your kindest of notes, so considerably better than some sharp keel’d cutters that have sailed thro’ the post to the Milk St Haven.
You’re a dear little brick, and blessed must have been the earth of which you were baked. I could not find the slightest spec of a fault in any one of your remarks, for there exists no one more mindful of the respect and love due to a parent than your cavaliero, who is now writing to you …
Well, my own loved one, you have made me so much happier and more comfortable to-day as I see you write so firmly, yet so prettily, upon that dreaded subject of interference, that I now do quite hope that matters will not remain as they now are …
I have written you this, with many people in and out of the Office so if anything is particularly absurd, consider it not there.
But even this newfound understanding between the couple was not enough to stop Sam indulging in his old trick of dodging the Dorlings. In the middle of June, with Epsom taken over by the Derby, Granny Jerrom had escorted the children down to Brighton, to stay at the Dorling family house at 72 Marine Parade. On Friday, 13th, Isabella and her parents are due to join them, and Isabella writes hopefully to Sam suggesting that he might come down for the night. Sam, as ever, cries off, citing the excuse of work: ‘You are a very good, kind girl to invite me to Brighton, and I hope you won’t think me a barbarian for not coming, but I have so many things to do which I can do on Sunday alone.’
For some reason Isabella insisted on believing that there was still a chance of a Brighton rendezvous. Even after six months of Sam not turning up whenever her parents were present, she chose to hope that he might, which means that she chose to be permanently disappointed. By Monday, and back home in Epsom, Isabella sat down to write a letter to her elusive fiancé that is a model of wounded narcissism.
My very dear Sam,
I have just returned from Brighton and hasten to write you a few lines just to give you a short account of my trip to Brighton.
In the first place I was very much disappointed at your not coming on Saturday evening. I waited and looked out anxiously for you but no Sam did I see to gladden my eyes. Naughty and very cruel of you to serve me so … After dinner … I and Bessie walked about the Parade till long after the train was due expecting you every moment … We shall not be in Town till Thursday when I hope to see you. Could you not run down to-morrow evening to see me. I am quite sure you could if you liked. It seems such an age since I have spoken to you and I can assure you I quite long for a quiet little chat with my old man, my dear darling venerable. I want to ask so many things about I don’t know what. I shall expect to see you to-morrow evening, so goodbye till then. Accept my fondest love and believe me my dearest.
Yours ever lovingly
