Nancy Mitford did not enjoy readers’ letters, according to Harold Acton’s sprightly memoir (how unlike us, Miss Beale and Miss Buss). But she did enjoy this one from a certain Mavis Mitford-Potts, following the enormous success of her first historical biography, Madame de Pompadour. It was along these lines: ‘I live alone in a bungalow and shall soon no doubt be murdered by one of the many people who think all Mitfords better dead’ and had the PS: ‘Please don’t think I admire your idiotic books.’ Nancy Mitford described this missive as ‘a breath of fresh air’ compared to the stack of fan-letters she was receiving: ‘It’s so odd why they should think one should want to know their boring reactions to one’s work.’
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