[Postmark: September 10, 1846]
Wednesday Night.
Dearest, you are a prophet, I suppose – there can be no denying it. This night, an edict has gone out, and George is to-morrow to be on his way to take a house for a month either at Dover, Reigate, Tunbridge, . . Papa did ‘not mind which,’ he said, and ‘ you may settle it among you ! ! ‘ but he ‘ must have this house empty for a month in order to its cleaning ‘ – we are to go therefore and not delay.
Now ! – what can be done ? It is possible that the absence may be longer than for a month, indeed it is probable – for there is much to do in painting and repairing, here in Wimpole Street, more than a month’s work they say. Decide, after thinking. I am embarrassed to the utmost degree, as to the best path to take. If we are taken away on Monday . . what then ?
Of course I decline to give any opinion and express any preference, – as to places, I mean. It is not for my sake that we go : – if I had been considered at all, indeed, we should have been taken away earlier, . . and not certainly now, when the cold season is at hand. And so much the better it is for me, that I have not, obviously, been thought of.
Therefore decide ! It seems quite too soon and too sudden for us to set out on our Italian adventure now – and perhaps even we could not compass –
Well – but you must think for both of us. It is past twelve and I have just a moment to seal this and entrust it to Henrietta for the morning’s post.
More than ever beloved, I am
Your own BA.
I will do as you wish – understand.