Lydia had spent much of the day painstakingly writing out a fresh copy of her primer on the 21st century for Captain Flint (with rather less of a focus upon the functions of the Dyson Airwrap, but featuring new information like the importance of sunscreen), and then catching up on her correspondence. She had read and written responses to several letters she had been saving up, and now she had one more she wanted to get to, which she had left for last because, well, writing to her family was always a struggle. Most of what she could tell them was information Wickham had dutifully, if somewhat laboriously given his own difficulties with the written word, relayed to her from Sainte Josephine, but if she didn't write to them at all she knew they would worry--and Elizabeth would grow suspicious of her robust correspondence with Georgiana.
( Dearest Father )There. That should suffice. She folded, addressed, and sealed it, and set it with the stack that would require special processing at the post office, since they would need to arrive via Sainte Josephine, 1810, and not directly from Fandom like the ones for Wickham and Miss Lambe could. Lord, but her hand ached! If only she had some magic she needed to do at present.
(Mostly establishy, but the door to her room is cracked and she's available for calls or texts if you like!)![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
