6 October 1794

Rome, Italy

Dearest of all friends, Lorsagne,

It is not yet light as I write this farewell. I am told my ship, The Isabella, will set sail just after dawn. I know you expect me to return to Rocca Sorrentina after some time with Father, but I find that is not to be. It is not just the disappointing news you recently shared that night when friends gathered in my villa rooms. That report might turn me from all Frenchmen for the remainder of my lifetime, but would not likely send me flying from Italy. Father suggests that once his business is completed in Rome, it will be time we return to England. He tells me Dr. Johnson is not well and that, his long-time hostess and friend has left him to fend for himself at the last. I am quite certain there are many others who will happily tend and comfort the dear man in his darkening hours. I want to be one of them.

I fear it will be some time before we meet again face to face, my friend. As always, you will be in my heart and on my mind. And, of course, there will be letters. Lots and lots of letters. I recall that you plan to return to France in the near future. Perhaps some business (or pelasure?) will one day bring you to London. There, I hope you will call on me, your most adoring friend and confidante,

Fanny