Mary Russell’s War
Mary Russell’s War (twenty-eight): advice in the stables
9 February 1915 My blessed solitude, broken only by the occasional presence of Mrs Mark inside and the sounds of Patrick Mason out, could not last. Indeed, I was fortunate to be granted as many days as I was. But in the end, my aunt descended upon Sussex, bringing with her many trunks and…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-seven): the sound of waves
Today’s Dreaming Spies Countdown post is a new set of images on Pinterest: the Japan sojourn of Russell & Holmes, over here. Now, back to our regular Monday programming of Russell’s War: 2 February 1915 Thursday will mark the six month point of this War that was supposed to be over by Christmas. In California, the fighting in Europe…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-six): The war touches home
Today’s Dreaming Spies Countdown post is another bunch of pictures over on the Pinterest page: peruse the sailing life of Russell & Holmes, over here. * * 26 January 1915 It is difficult not to believe that the current state of the world was designed specifically to thwart the intentions of one Mary J. Russell.…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-five): Miss Russell moves on
19 January 1915 My aunt is a perfect virtuoso of the arts of delay. Under our roof the immoveable object has spent the last week meeting the irresistible object…and it has moved. The delays of bank signatures and explanations, and the troubles of wartime shortages, and the foul weather, and the increased risk of German invasion…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-four): London at War
12 January 1915 My determination to demonstrate maturity is tried hourly. My aunt has an incredible talent for getting under my guard, or perhaps it’s more a matter of finding a sensitive spot with her prodding finger. Maybe if she did not resemble Mother… I gather my patience to me and keep repeating myself: firmly,…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-three): freedom of the seas
5 January 1915 I should be ashamed at the exhilaration I feel, walking the decks of this ship. The Atlantic swells and shoves, concealing German U-boats and icebergs and deep darkness. The wind howls, while my fellow passengers speak in low voices, as if any noise might be heard beyond the hull. Despite the hazards…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-two): a belief in disguise
29 December 1914 Two days left in this ghastly year. Four days left for me to be fourteen. And on the third day, I shall slip away. In the past week, the idea of dressing up as a man in an English ingle-nook has kept coming back to me, to the point of fixation. On…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty-one): the cold of Boston
22 December 1914 Boston is cold. I have not seen snow for years, but here it covers the rooftops, muffles the sounds, clots the shoes of the walker. The cold penetrates the houses, so that despite the festivities of the season, regardless of the cooking smells and shiny ornaments and tentative but growing collection of…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (twenty: parting’s eve)
14 December 1914 My commitment to writing a journal entry on the weekly anniversary of the start of War (which began on a Tuesday) is being put aside this week, for it looks as if my usual writing time tomorrow will be taken up with other things. That is because today—a Monday—my issue of the…
Read MoreMary Russell’s War (nineteen: young soldiers and Santa Claus)
8 December 1914 At last, I have the sensation of moving forward with my life, for the first time since I set out to find the German spies back in October. What a very long time ago that seems, and such a young child she was. (I do feel, however, that the authorities were…
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