My Dear Millicent,

I am sorry you are away during this social season and do hope you will return soon to join me at the many gatherings to come. I wish you could have been with me at William’s most recent event. Such a disturbing affair it turned out to be. Quite happy that evening is behind me. William had introduced me to a short, glacier-eyed woman that evening, a Miss Borden. He warned me to be cautious with my words, inasmuch as Miss Borden was a bit sensitive. Since William said she attended many affairs in his circle, I thought how sensitive could she be? Then, William disappeared, and I, left standing with this frumpish guest who seemed to be under the influence of a good dose of laudanum, found myself in the awkward position to make small talk. 

As it turns out, she is Andrew Borden’s girl. Shame on me for not making the connection. I cannot say I have seen Mr. Borden lately, but it seems his daughter, Lizzie, has become quite social. A new development as we have never seen her at affairs previously. Well, she made her way to William’s that night.  

As we know, like a sharp tool, the art of conversation should be honed and handled with care. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person might well mean social death. Remember Amelia Barstow’s indiscretion? But as we in our circle abide by propriety, I am sure no one among us would say anything less than respectful. So, for the life of me, I cannot explain why this Lizzie Borden took offense to almost everything anyone mentioned to her at William’s that evening. We were all rather nonplussed. 

Not knowing Miss Borden, I exercised caution. Since you, like myself, are relatively new to Fall River, let me share some advice should you have the misfortune of being placed in my position at a future gathering.

I discovered from personal experience—and conversation with others after that evening at William’s—there are topics and phrases that have proven troublesome with Lizzie. So you should not think for a moment I have done or said anything inappropriate to put Miss Borden’s corset in a pinch, may I tell you it has come to light that many have had a disquieting experience with the woman. 

I abhor gossip. You know I do. What I tell you is not in the spirit of wagging tongues but in friendship. Millicent, conversation with that woman calls for strict awareness. 

At William’s, Bertha asked, “How is your family?” Miss Borden walked away with not so much as a by your leave. It pains me to tell you that was not the worst of it. Lizzie Borden slapped dear Bertha before turning away. How embarrassing for Bertha, the little lamb. I didn’t see it myself. However, it was all the talk the day after. 

Naturally, we all have our preferences when it comes to the food table, but it is the height of effrontery to disclose to a host when the food served is not to one’s liking. How many times have we been subjected to Violet Ames’ indigestible beef and peas medley? Did either of us show even a smidge of distaste for the meal? Of course not. However, on that evening at William’s when he announced, “There is mutton on the table,” I was embarrassed for him. Lizzie Borden made no effort to conceal her gag reflex. Poor William. Let us be sure not to offer Miss Borden mutton at any of our gatherings.

Margaret Dunleavy—whose husband went bankrupt last year and took to drink and to the widow Henley (Mr. Dunleavy and that hussy are still spotted together around town. Such a scandal. Poor Margaret.) well, at William’s party Margaret asked Miss Borden, “Are you going to the father-daughter dance?” Miss Borden never stopped laughing long enough to answer. I was sorry to have missed the humor in that exchange. The tension in the room at William’s that evening was thick. We all could have done with some levity.

At a pre-theater event shortly after William’s gathering, I met Lizzie again. She most certainly was not dressed in a style befitting the evening, but her style was the least of it. Privately, and with genuine concern, I suggested she may not be aware of a dark, red stain just below her bodice. Her face became as red as that stain, and her eyes looked absolutely murderous. I will not mention any potentially embarrassing situation to Lizzie Borden again. 

Just days later, I saw Emerson Fitzgerald at our fire brigade parade. He said Lizzie Borden had visited his store and was not prepared to pay for her purchase. He suggested she borrow money from her parents. Emerson said she pounded the counter repeatedly. I thought his question audacious, but, naturally, I kept my thoughts to myself. Why anyone would be so bold as to discuss personal finances is beyond me. Such a vulgar topic. But some, like Emerson Fitzgerald, let curiosity speak for itself without regard for social propriety. By the way, he is now engaged to Ruth Barnes. Since she is half his age, you’ll likely agree with the rest of us that Ruth is more attracted to his holdings than to him.    

I caught a bit of a chill at the parade and took to my bed for several days causing me to miss Clara Prior’s party. What I am about to share came to me from Mary Josephson, who was there. She told me that one unfortunate chap said to Miss Borden, “You are just like your father.” Lizzie tossed her claret punch in his face with vigor. Should you note a similarity between father and daughter when you meet her, do not comment on this.  

While I was recuperating, Helen Sullivan came to call with her chicken soup. She told me of the whispers throughout the neighborhood concerning another Lizzie Borden outburst. It seems Constable Hanrahan mentioned to Miss Borden, “I hear you’ve been called to jury duty.” Lizzie Borden spat and left the building. Imagine that. The talk now, though, is what has become of Constable Hanrahan? He has not been seen since, and the town has filled his position with a replacement while they investigate his disappearance. So, I say should the topic of juries, or any court topic arise, don’t speak of it with Lizzie Borden. Certainly, Lizzie’s reaction and the good Constable’s disappearance may not be related at all. One does wonder, however, and I can tell you I am not alone in wondering. Helen, for one, is quite on edge about that Borden woman. 

My first day leaving my sick bed, I went straight to Johnson’s Pharmacy. Mr. Johnson said Lizzie has threatened several local pharmacists when they told her, “Sorry, we are all out of Prussic Acid.” Also, she uttered an obscenity and stomped out of the store. Quite rude.  

I heard Lily Buffsford say “Over my dead body,” to Lizzie at a council meeting yesterday when Lizzie suggested Lily be replaced as Treasurer. Lizzie hit the purse right out of Lily’s hand. With the inappropriateness of the whole situation, I could not look away. And poor William. He made the mistake of saying that to Lizzie at his own party that night, and I thought Lizzie’s face would burst into flames. William, the poor dear, has since moved away, right after his unfortunate gathering that evening. We assume he has moved, though we have not seen a for sale sign on his home, nor has he bothered to say good bye to any of us. I do miss dear William. 

For such an irascible woman, Lizzie Borden is present at many of our town’s affairs these days. No doubt you will have the opportunity to meet her yourself. Lizzie Borden may be one of the wealthiest women in town, but she is certainly not one of the most popular. But far be it from me to utter unkind words about anyone. Perhaps, I have just gotten off on the wrong foot with her. I would like to bury the hatchet and give it a new start. When you return, perhaps the three of us can lunch. 

The moral here is mind what you say. Take after me and keep to your own business, don’t spread gossip. Of course, you are a dear, and I know you would never prattle on.

So much has come to pass since you have been away this past month. Hopefully, your dear sister’s health is improving so you can come back to Fall River. I am anxious for your return. Enough for now. I must get to our Ladies Auxiliary meeting. I imagine there will be more to share in my next letter.

Your friend,

Prudence

P.S. When was the last time I saw Andrew Borden? I have not seen him nor his wife in quite some time.