Letters From Poppy
Dearest Delphine,
Strangest thing, I awoke this morning to find a basket of acorns and blackberries next to my typewriter, a lovely yellow butterfly perched on my hand and a lovely grown hedgehog sleeping on the pillow beside me. Remarkably tame. Also a couple of tiny frogs in the bath. This caused a commotion when discovered by the housemaid, and I was coldly chastised by Mrs Lutyens for bringing filthy wildlife into the house. I don't think she cares for me and thinks, when I denied bringing in the animals, she thought me a bit of a liar. Why would I lie, Delphine?
Miss M., however, was delighted with this event. She views these as gifts, as a "sign" from the "Fair Folk" and has commissioned me to search the grounds of Great Dixter for Faery Houses. I am honored to be one of her many researchers. She knows, you see, she knows there are faeries, she just can’t see them anymore. I can just see you cringe and say to Clive, "Will my sister never grow up?" Well, quite honestly, it is a better job to roam the gardens searching for faeries than to be typing the woman's endless letters raising funds for the Theosophical Society.
Oh, Delphinia, Mr. Armstrong has written to me directly. Why did you give him my address? Although,I am delighted to hear that Flandreau is "an up-and-coming little berg", Delphine, you must discourage him. I am not a mail order bride and I will not be wooed by the Chamber of Commerce.
(Transcribed by Milo Martin)
Dearest Delphine,
Thank you for your last letter. It was forwarded on to me in Rye from London. Miss M. is visiting the Nathaniel Lloyd family at Great Dixter- it is quite a house party with Mr. and Mrs. Lutyens, and a great many others I do not know. The Great Hall has been put into service as a hospital, so we all hover out of the way in the addition, another 16th century timbered house from Beneden which Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Lutyens adjoined to the orginal Great Dixter Manor.
Since our arrival, Miss M. has taken ill with a severe chest cold, mercifully it does not appear to be influenza. My companion and private secretary duties are therefore cursory until she recovers. So I read, and I roam the gardens and attempt to stay out of everyone's way.
The grounds here are extrodinary! There is a meadow garden based on the grasslands of the prairie, can you believe it! Wild flowers- a sea of poppies and I have seen a profusion of delphiniums as well in the borders- so dearest sister, how could I not miss you with your namesake and your prairie home ever within view?
And yet sometimes I do have the oddest feeling that I know this place well. I know the quality of the sunlight on the meadow flowers, the murmer of the wind in the trees.
Dearest Delphine,
I am restless and irritable today, waiting for midnight. No sign of Aelfric for days though I wandered the Barn and Sunken Gardens for an age. I see the wounded soldiers, and think of George, dead in France, and my heart tears open- I see them maimed and burned and am glad you are not here to feel the horror of it. For a single moment when I catch sight of a soldier sitting in the sun, I hope for a heatbeat that perhaps it is George- the War Office was wrong- a mistake was made- but no, and the hurt stabs back with vicious ferocity...
Later
Another letter arrived from Mr. Armstrong by the morning post. In this war why are Mr. Armstrong's tedious letters the only ones delivered regularly? He seeks to woo me with a complete description of Flandreau Main Street. And train schedules to Minneapolis. For Culture. And everyone there, everyone who counts for something, swears Flandreau is just "swell" and "homey".
And he reminds me that there is nothing and no one for me here. That may be true, but I do not feel in my heart that he is correct.
And it is cruel.
Poppy
2
Later
It is uneasily warm for April. There are vast acres of gardens here overflowing with shrubs and flowers with hidden treasures of balustraded terraces, curving brick paths bordered with an abundance of lupin, delphiniums and lavender. The profusion of roses astonishes me and butterflies soar unexpectedly at each bend in the path.
There are a series of small gardens that surround the manor all connecting with each other- rather like rooms in a house. The topiaries are my least favorites, constrained and contrived, and I find the High Garden with its narrow flower borders and espaliered fruit tress again too tortured to my liking. But the Barn Garden with its tiled roof barn and the Sunken Garden have a magic that enthralls me.
I wandered for hours. I discovered the Orchard Garden, where I had collapsed in a sea of daffodils, when I was joined again by the Caretaker. He rescued me from hunger with some bread, a rich cheddar and cider. As we sat and ate, a fox emerged from the shrubbery and crawled into his lap. "Ha," he said, "you hold her. She knows you." He handed her to me and she nestled in my lap, then rubbed against my neck with her soft fur. When I was with him, this seemed perfectly normal, but now, when I write to you, it does sound a bit bizarre. I talked to him for ever it seems. He listened. It must have been hours, or no time at all. He took my hand and held it out palm first and two iridescent dragonflies alighted and then lifted into flight.
3
Oh, I told him about the Faery Quest for Miss M. He was not at all surprised and agreed to help me find the Faeries.
"Oh yes," he said, "Oh yes, there are fairies at Great Dixter. You know that. There were fairies here before the first manor was built in 1220, and there were faeries when this Weald Hall with its half timbered walls filled with wattle and daub was built in 1454. And when the Manor was known as Dicksterve there were Faeries. You have forgotten, that's all. The Gentle Folk," he smiled, "have always been here"
As we sat, a green woodpecker landed beside us and ate crumbs from his outstretched hand.
Annoyingly, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Lutyens came strolling towards us from the house, and Aelfric slipped away fading into the greenery and trees. No doubt not to be seen by his employer. Mr. Lutyens asked about my search in his serious manner. I told him that the Caretaker would be helping me.
"Caretaker? Groundskeeper you mean, Miss. Ha, Stubbins? Doesn’t sound like his forte, but well, a pretty young girl? Eh?" The two laughed. "Keep your wits about you girl, lot of soldiers around, don’t you know.”
The two chuckled and moved on leaving the aroma of pipe smoke in the air. Stubbins?
4
Later
Returning to my room I found a message on my dressing table:
Come alone Thursday to the Meadow Garden at Midnight and you shall see faeries. And find what you have lost.
I showed it to Miss M. and she was thrilled! She gave me her Eveready torch, calling it the light that does not fail. I think she was fevered, but I will go nevertheless.
And in the night I dreamt of the Caretaker. We were dancing through the shadowed trees, then we were dragonflies-flying-soaring over the meadow-skimming the pond in the moonlight and he had seemed my very soul. Then suddenly in the dream I was alone and lost. Lost for so long I even forgot who I was.
On my pillow were dragonfly wings. And tears.
Your loving sister,
Poppy
2
While exploring the sunken garden, I met an astonishing young man. When I first saw him he was holding a young badger under his arm, stroking its fur. Not something one sees everyday in Manchester! Bizarre.
He said that he is Aelfric, and he is the Caretaker. He reminded me a bit of George, you know, before he went up to Oxford. He had George's laughing eyes? Do you remember? Before it all went wrong.
I said I am Penelope Fielding, Miss Maddingly's private secretary. He smiled slowly and said, "No, you are Poppy of the Fields! And," he paused, "and, you have come home." Again disconcerting, but not impertinent, but disquieting And as I had indeed felt an uneasy familiarity with this place I looked away, a little embarrassed, and when I looked back he had gone. I was sorry. For all the people about, it is lonely here.
Thank you for the photograph of Mr. Armstrong and for his letter. I know he is Clive’s best friend, but Delphine, I ask not not to play the matchmaker for me. There will be time when I get to America. If I get to America. This wretched war drags on without end.
.
Dearest Delphine,
Things grow stranger here. I left the Manor on Thursday night and using the light of Miss M.'s Eveready, I slipped down to the Meadow Gardens to meet Aelfric to find the Faeries.
Aelfric- I do not know who or what he is- but
I have come to know something- what? Faeries? Enchantment? Or are we all fools in love?
He emerged from the trees and took me by the hand to the center of the Meadow. We had to stay very still. We lay down in the Poppies and the grasses and stared up into the cloudless black sky encrusted with a thousand jeweled stars lit by a sickle moon. He sang softly, under his breath, a whisper a rhymic murmer. We waited. And he began again. The night was so still- not a cricket chirped or frog croaked- no sound but the low murmer of his whisper.
And then, and then, Oh Delphine, stars began to fall from the sky. Shooting in every direction on a rounded canopy of blackest velvet. And then, and then, other stars were very slowly falling towards us as if one were caught in a prism of sparkling lights.
2
And the tiny lights soared around us, and a soft singing joined his voice and filled the air. As he held up his arm with fingers outstretched, a fairy lit on his finger tips. I could not breathe. He took hold of my hand and raised my arm and another fairy settled on my fingertips- she weighed nothing as if she were made of the light that glowed around her.
And I felt such love from them, Delphine, such love I have never known, as if warm and sheltered. As if a child again comforted from fear, sheltered from cold in its mother's arms. The night seemed to last forever.
Yet too soon morning began to come and the Fairies slowly began to disappear. And it grew cold. And I watched him disappear I knew the same coldness and emptiness I felt as I watched your liner disappear over the horizon.
Then remembered something very dim and faint. Faraway from a long time ago. Memories as pale as the sun on a foggy day- as vague as iimaginary shapes in the embers of the fire. And I took back a handful of poppies to remember. Again.
Dearest Delphine,
I am mortified. Mrs. Lloyd has been telling everyone I was seen alone in the middle of the night in the Meadow "exhibiting wanton behavior". Although Miss Maddingly thought it all a great joke, I am horrified.
The woman was degrading, and would not listen. She obviously is not a part of the fashionable Theosophical set, but tolerates them because they are Mrs. Lutyen's friends. Everyone is at cross purposes, and the Lutyens have now had a row and Mrs. Lutyens and the rest of the Theosophical crowd are leaving.
Miss M. is still in bed with her cold, but I think she is enjoying the excitement.
I have lost my gold locket from George.
Poppy
No, Mr. Stubbins,
I do not care to go with you to the Barn Gardens to look for Fairies, gnomes or other creatures. Please do not ask me again. Ever.
Penelope Fielding
Miss Fielding,
I do not think it wise for Young Women to be roaming about the grounds in the Middle of the Night. I have spoken to your employer. I will not tolerate wanton behavior in my household.
Please do try to behave in a more decorous manner in future.
Mrs. Lloyd
Oh, Delphine,
You will not believe it!
I awoke this morning to find my bed covered in palest pink roses and red poppies. And a couple of young wild rabbits. And a hawk on the window ledge. Inside. A field mouse was in my washstand basin. More frogs and a couple of dragonflies! Sadly, the lovely Perch in the bathtub was purloined by staff and was taken to the kitchen. Mrs. Lloyd is disgusted. Not about the Perch; she wants me gone.
Although the grubby Mr. Stubbins denies all knowledge of these gifts, he did attempt to achieve collateral glory by offering me a stoat sandwich. Revolting.
Another letter from our Mr. Armstrong- more about you really. He cannot understand that I am not you, my sensible sister. Apparently hope springs eternal, in addition to his other charms he has now thrown in the enticement of "keeping chickens." And a hog or two.
A note was left in my room indicating that I may bring the gentlemen to see the Faery House. We are all excitement.
2
The Fairy House, Delphine! We found it! How lovely and how perfect! It's small roof is dormered and looks much like the Manor, but with thatch and the thatch is strewn with vines and purple flowers. The is a spiral staircase of vines and twigs and fireplaces of small river rock. And books! Tiny books no bigger than an inch. And a tiny desk where someone has been writing and drawing- amazing. Water flows from sea shells into shell basins, and there is a nursery for a baby faery- all pink with rose buds, and tiny toys carved from wood! It is a delight, I cannot describe.
Oh to be so small one could fix meals in that tiny kitchen, sit before the fire and read, collect the nuts and berries in the basket, bake the tiny bread. Mr. Lutyens was enthralled and sat and drew it for hours- fascinated by every detail. "Such workmanship!" he exclaimed! We peered in at the windows- lovely stained glass overhung with the sheerest of netting catching the breeze. Dishes of sea shells and goblets of crystals, bedding of dyed silks. And my locket! Delphine, my locket was hung from the highbeam of the front dormer!
The gentlemen went gone back to the Manor deep in discussion, and I stayed for a time and then walked back in the darkness. There was no sign of Aelfric, and I am distracted. Was he real or have I gone mad? Has he gone?
Bring your friends to the bottom of the meadow garden tomorrow at dusk and look beneath the blackberry brambles at the base of the tallest Oak. They will find what they seek.
Dearest Delphine,
Good god, we are to leave here tomorrow. and I have not seen Aelfric for days. Miss Maddingly has urgent business in Leeds and feels well enough to travel. She says that having found the faeries and documented the faery house, our work here is finished.
She has some concerns about my continued employment with her- says I have become erratic and distracted. She warned that contact with the Faeries can be dangerous and that one must guard one's sanity. I cannot disagree.
She fears I have become too involved with the Faeries- "What happened in the Meadow?" she demands. "Faeries! Listen to me!" her voice rose shrilly, "They tease, they seduce and entice you to madness. And when you love them, truely love them, girl, they disappear. I KNOW, Penelope, I KNOW. This man, this fantasy, will not come back for you. Ever. And you MUST LIVE with that knowledge and go on." She paused and said softly, "Listen to me. You hold onto your sanity and you go on"
She cannot be right.
Delphine, how can I leave here? It is like looking into the oily black waters that swelled in the wake of your ship and the future looms hideously before me- a vista of cold spare rooms that I cannot endure.
Is my only choice to exist somewhere in London alone or to escape to America? And to what, a man I do not love, a man who does not love me, but loves an image of you he has conjured in his mind?
I will not be that cold and alone, Delphine. I will not.
Beloved,
Follow the dragonfly-
she will bring you home to me
3
Do you remember years ago reading poor George’s Penny Dreadfuls about Deadwood Dick and Calamity Jane? Do you remember the three of us dreamed of going to Deadwood and roaming the Black Hills, wearing six shooters and panning for gold? I wanted to fall in love with Wild Bill. I remember. I remember. I still long for impossible adventures and for true love, Delphine. I know I am foolish.
I do not want to end my days as some man's tired wife on a desolate prairie farm drifting on towards death on that vast sea of grass.
Your loving sister,
Poppy
Note:
According to Police reports at the time, no trace of Miss Fielding's body was ever found. No one matching the description of Aelfric was located. Additionally, her sad disappearance halted any effort to make the discovery of the Fairy House public.
It should be noted however, that despite his many contributions to British architecture the one project that captured the world's imagination was Mr. Lutyens creation of the Queen Mary Dollhouse in 1924.
And visitors to the Great Dixter Gardens swear there must be fairies in the Meadow Garden where poppies bloom.
Milo Martin 2008
2
Later
He has left a note in my room. He did come back for me!
I have no choice- I must go. Delphine.
I feel as if I have looking for his world my whole life. When I lay in the grass in our tiny garden in Manchester, I knew, I knew, Delphine, someday I would be where the roses are not bound by iron railings and the poppies run riot in the fields. Where the smell of lavender catches you suddenly unawares and your spirits soar with the swallows into the sunlight. Where I soar like the dragonfly in warm sunlight on a lazy afternoon.
I cannot return to the gray granite of London, nor the cold wasteland of your prairie or the even colder arms of Mr. Armstrong.
I need to be here where there is no time passing. I want to be with him to see each season for the first time, to watch the bumblebee and the ladybird, to see the glisten of the spiders web in the morning dew to smell the mown grass and the rich smell of the earth.
I cannot live without his voice, his smile, his strength and his wisdom. I cannot bear the cold outside of his arms. No matter who he is. But I know him and I feel that I have always loved him, Delphine. Always.
Love is so trite in the end. A smile, a word, a kiss, an embrace and we are lost in its madness.
Having seen the Faeries on that magical night, Delphine, how can I exist anywhere but here- all else is but gray foggy imitation. I have come home, Delphine, and I will not leave here again. I know you will think me mad. I am not mad, but I was asleep wandering in a dream of life with you and with George for so very long, and now I am awake.
Do not feel sad Delphine. I will always love you. And I will always be with you.
When you see the Poppies dancing on the prarie, or a dragonfly skimming across a pond, think of me,
Delphine, loving you always.
Come alone Thursday to the Meadow Garden at Midnight and you shall see Faeries.
And Find what you have lost.
