An event in the garden...
I ran all the way back to tell Mother I'd spoken to Mr Repton.
She took the news very calmly, saying, she hoped he was as pleased speaking to me. She is always like this, very calm, a little amused at life, as well she might be, because life has treated her well, better than anyone might have expected.
A younger sister, she was fortunate enough for them all to die as she came of age, and for her father's estate to pass directly to her - there being no male heir in the case. This luck, and her further good fortune at catching a wealthy man for a husband, and being widowed of him shortly after, would naturally make her as pleased as could be with life, and fortune, and even, on occasion, with me.
"Mr Repton, Mother!" I protested, but she was ringing for tea and describing the sort of cake she'd prefer this afternoon. I all but gave up of telling her about my afternoon with our greatest of great designers - Repton himself - in our very park - and saying my ideas were very much the true adaptation of Palladio's ideals.
The shock almost paralysed me when he said that. I have carried out a few modest alterations to our landscape - basing the changes on what I know of modern design. The lake - the parterre - the grotto I have planned but not yet persuaded Mother on - all, all met Mr Repton's approval.
Our house is a little old fashioned, I know - the casements, the terribly poor laying out of the windows across our fašade - but I really feel I could do something with it, if Mother would let me. The main part of the house is two hundred years out of date - in desperate need of a good modern treatment. Henry the Eighth would approve I am sure if he saw my plans.
Mother says only, she wishes I will study as well as I play at being an architect, and then she will be happy. But if she knew! Mr Repton left his card today. I hope he will call on Mother tomorrow, and then we can truly start to bring this house into the modern age.
Text copyright Archsweet 1999