1784, 14 October

My most beloved friend and sister, Susan,

I write to you from la dolce, Roma, where I have passed several pleasant days in the company of our dear father. He is understandably pleased with himself on the occasion of this commission from the Vatican. Father has completed the composition, which is to be premiered during Passion Week in the papal chapel, and is, as I write, presenting the work to the Vatican direttore di musica. I have heard it played and am sure it will be enthusiastically accepted and do not see how such a success could not lead to more success. I know you are as proud of father as I am. I wonder if his dear wife is as impressed. I will not complain of her absence here, but have to wonder why she chose not to accompany her husband on so important a mission, to be at his side as he achieves one of his life's greatest goals. Oh I know, she is not well. I still wonder about her choice.

Father and I will begin the journey home tomorrow morning. We'll travel over land via Genoa. From there, we'll travel to Geneva. We'll cross the channel at Calais and be in London three days later. Our velocity will be dependent upon the availability of coach seats at each stop along the way. I believe, under the typical circumstances, you can expect us home in two weeks time.

Along with this letter, I am posting a drawing I purchased from a woman I met here in Rome. She is an Englishwoman, named Frostbite. Lady Frostbite is a countess and lives alone on Glytton Isle, her husband having died some years ago. She is rather a talented artist, as you will see. When I saw that she had sketched The Trevi Fountain, which I had visited with father that very day, I just had to possess the work. I know you saw the fountain when last you were in Rome, playing your harp. I know you praised it at the time, but really had no idea how perfectly grand it is until I saw it with my own eyes. I will see to framing the sketch upon my return home. In the meantime, please keep it safe for me.

I look forward to our reunion, dear sister! It has been so very long since I saw your lovely face and embraced you in adoration.

My best to your devoted husband and family.

Your most loyal sister,

Fanny

P.S. In your most recent correspondence, you asked after Lt. Henri Badeau. Let us just say that I am happier not thinking too much of that traitorous man. That story will keep until I can sit at your feet and lay my head upon your knee. And now to post this letter and accompanying package!