James becomes bored and most unhappy when he does not have enough to do, which is a habit I am sure he picked up on the Peninsula when he was aide-de-camp to Lord Wellington. (I suppose I ought now to say with the prime minister, but I am not yet accustomed to thinking of him so.) Though I am not sure what the duke has in mind this time, I am quite pleased for him by this turn of events. James is going up to London to consult with the Duke of Wellington. Arthur claims to have seen things in it, and if he is neither making up tales nor using an existing spell, I may need to find him a magic tutor who can oversee more advanced work than his present teacher. (I am still not entirely sure how Arthur got past them please do let me know, if you should discover it.) And I wish you would advise me whether Thomas maintains a continuous scrying spell on the gazing ball in his study. The reason I mention it is that Thomas may need to readjust his warding spells. Poking about in a wizard’s study is serious business. I promise you that we did so, however, as neither of us wishes to encourage him to undertake any similar adventures in the future. I do not know where he can have come by such a notion, but he was so earnest in his concern that both James and I had difficulty in keeping a sober expression.
Eleanor has been suffering from a trifling ailment since we left- no more than a bad cold, but Arthur was convinced that it must be the result of some dreadful magical protection they had triggered, and so he poured out the whole story to James and me the night after we arrived home. Speaking of the twins, I am afraid Arthur has confessed that he and Eleanor sneaked into Thomas’s study on the last day of our visit. (I had expected it of Diana, who is only four, after all, but I had hoped that at the age of nine, the twins would have grown out of such tricks. I know James was as sorry to leave as I, and as for the children- well, you saw how Baby Alexander cried when we left, and Diana and the twins all sulked for two days straight.
Two weeks was hardly enough time to catch up on all your doings of the past few months. You have turned it into such a comfortable home that I do not wonder at your reluctance to go up to London, though I do hope James and I can coax you all to visit Tangleford next summer, so that we may return your hospitality. In deference to Thomas’s feelings, however, I shall not mention the resemblance again until little Laurence is old enough to have grown some hair.) My only regret is that we could not stay longer at Skeynes. (And I still think that Baby Laurence is the image of his papa, even if he is still quite bald.
It was splendid to see you and Thomas and your boys again this fortnight past.
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