Letter Nine: Wet nurse found!

My Love,

            I found us a wet nurse! Her name is Loretta Thornhound and she is in good health. We had her moved in yesterday and little Seymour has grown quite a liking to her. I caught him smelling her drawers when he thought no one was looking—he takes after his father. Speaking of scents, my foul smelling sister came to visit last week. Not only was she reeking of her usual bodily odors, but also of stale whiskey and pipe tobacco this time. She also has the foulest mind this side of the confederacy. She kept telling me about how she was going to break a man’s legs to get him to stay with her. She also got me drunk last eve with the whiskey she brews herself—apparently a man she slept with in Ireland taught her. I know, it is unconventional for a woman to be brewing her own whiskey but I cannot help but be mesmerized by the free spirit she is. Naturally I have tried to convince her to find some old money to betroth but she simply will not have it. Well darling, I hope the wooden foot has proved sturdy. 

P.S. I've included a portrait of Loretta and Penny. Isn't little Penny simply darling?

Ponder about my bosom as you fight,

Muffy