FROM FITZROY'S PRIVATE DIARY (EXTRACT 4)

Dear God, I hope she has the sense not to tell her mother. She fell out of the bloody tree four times. How was I to know she wouldn’t take after Euphemia, who could climb a tree like a bear in pursuit of honey? But then Euphemia has always been impulsive, passionate, driven and one to act. Her daughter is quieter, more thoughtful and, it appears, more hesitant when it comes to grabbing branches. I caught her every time. She laughed. I didn’t have to encourage her to try again. I’m beginning to suspect I may have already taught her a measure of my own stubbornness.

But then, without that stubborn streak, I would never have been able to control her mother. Hope is very different. She is the image of her mother, but whereas Euphemia projects her beauty without thought, Hope hides hers. She retreats in a roomful of people. When her parents hold one of their infamous parties, at which I always feel obliged to appear, Hope will escape to the library or, if Bertram has remembered to lock it, she will find a space in the room to observe, but not be observed. Euphemia despairs that she allows her child to mix with so many brilliant minds yet Hope chooses to obscure herself.

Euphemia may regret her decision to let me train Hope, but there’s no undoing the skills I’ve already taught her. I fear her parents, who revel in their arguments, miss Hope’s quiet wit and sensitivity. I know her better in some ways, and I appreciate her thoughtfulness. Her parents see a shy child. I see a reserved young woman who has a core of steel. Hope can be whatever she wants. I will always support her, and I will suggest as soon as she is old enough, she removes herself from the turbulent and restrictive life of White Orchards. Once an adult, free of parental supervision, she will flourish. She has spent a life caught between her parents, their arguments and the secrets they have had to keep from one another. Freed from this environment she will become a formidable woman.

I fear Euphemia will never forgive me. Her relationship with Hope has never been what she wanted. Bertram indulged Hope and her love of books. Sitting on his knee knee while he read to her has been a highlight of her childhood. Her long walks with me and the various games we have played have, I believe, have been another of her joys. She has never understood that all this time I have been teaching her the art of spycraft. I am her confidante and her playmate, and I would have no reservation in killing anyone who contemplated harming a hair on her head.

But it has been left to Euphemia to be the disciplinarian. I sweep in and out of the household. Bertram is frequently too ill to move from his seat in the library, or even his bed. Euphemia is left to raise and school Hope. She is the one who scolds, who hands out punishments, and who challenges Hope. She is a fair and clever mother doing her very best, but Hope is a child. She loves Bertram and I and she is quick to shower us both with hugs and affection. Not so her mother. Euphemia has become her adversary and Hope is as stubborn as a pig, or a Fitzroy. I hope, as she grows to adulthood, she will come to understand her how very much her mother loves her and how she would give her life for her daughter. In some ways you might argue she has.

 As always, when it comes to Euphemia’s troubles, I fear the root cause is myself.

 My poor Alice.