The Dower House,
Crapulent Park,
Chugley Harvard.

You will forgive an old woman for not indulging you by addressing you in your quite absurd adopted name of Ramona, but as your Godmother, I was witness to the procedure whereby God gave you three perfectly sound names of your own and I really feel that you should be content with them. I would remind you that one of them was given to you in my own honour. At my age, my dear, there is little left for me to do but to dwell upon my memories and interfere into the lives of others. I can still remember you as the quite delightful little girl with such charming golden locks that you were as a child when you used to stay so frequently at the Towers.

Since you were confirmed and my responsibilities as your Godmother were completed, I have seen little of you, but do not think that I have not continued to take an interest. Congratulations, by the way, on your recent triumph on 'Late Surge', I doubt that anyone else could have used their thighs to such remarkable effect as well as you. However I pray you do not follow in the footsteps of your Great Uncle James, who was still riding at age 55 the damned fool, and was trampled underhoof after a fall at the Malnover Sternacre point-to-point. He was, I understand, in the lead at the time. But I digress.

You have had some misfortune in your life. I'm afraid my cousin Staines, your grandfather, was never the brightest button in the box. What he was doing in Blackpool when he was knocked down by that tram I have no idea, but I have always suspected there was some wanton Music Hall artiste or some such involved. Your father, I am pleased to say, did not take after him in this respect, he had a very sweet nature but the unfortunate man always was accident prone and I am sure I have no need to remind you, my dear, of the circumstances of his untimely demise. I rather fear that your cousin Hugh has inherited this latter trait without the advantage of being blessed with any brain as far as I can make out, but whether he has, in fact, any Featherstonehaugh blood in him is of some uncertainty.

My late husband left me more than sufficient funds for my declining years. As I am given to understand by Bogle, my financial advisor, my little requirements nowadays are far less than my investment income, so I have given thought to what should become of the accumulating funds when I finally leave to meet my God. I immediately thought of you. To my mind you have always been one of the more down to earth members of the family and fate has not dealt you the hand that you perhaps deserved. Your brother, the present incumbent of your family title has not, I feel, discharged his duties in the distressingly permanent absence of your father, in proposing a good husband for you despite that you are approaching thirty. I would therefore sincerely request that you call upon me and stay a few days, to discuss your future, whilst I still have my wits about me.

I know you young women think you have emancipated yourselves. I think you are somewhat deluded and have only brought upon yourselves more troubles than for which you bargained. Do you imagine for one moment that my late husband ever made a decision of any import without my advice? And taking it, I might add. Who do you think it was in past generations that sent the more degenerate sons, nephews and cousins to populate the colonies when they were obviously of no use to us here? It certainly wasn't the men, my dear. I know we are supposed to feel contrite that we ever had an empire, but in some cases, dim as they were, they actually succeeded in life and consequently there was advantage for all.

There is one point I would mention. It has come to my attention that you have been engaged in writing certain articles of a dubious nature for a somewhat questionable publication. We will talk upon this further on your visit and preferably after you have taken confession with dear Dr. Chasuble. He is a little overfond of the Madeira nowadays I'm afraid, a weakness to which most men succumb sooner or later irrespective of station, but it does have the advantage that he now remembers nothing and can therefore give you absolution without you having any fear that he will remember anything that you have said. I find that so reassuring, do you not?

Forgive me, my dear, if I have somewhat rambled, and I will look forward to your reply in which perhaps you will inform me of when you are able to visit.

Elizabeth.
Crapulence Dwgr.