14 July

Uncle Jack still gone. I guess I know what that means. I must find a way out of this today. Must discover some fun. I have only just escaped from dear Miss Prism by telling Dr. Chasuble a little white lie. I informed him that Miss Prism had a slight headache and suggested a "stroll." He said he would "Hang upon her lips!" Then he called her *Egeria*! Said it was a reference to the *pagans*! I think he has been making love to her!

!!!!!! Ernest is here!!!!!!! At last! And he is exactly as I imagined him. He says I am the "visible personification of absolute perfection" and then he proposed! 3:00pm More later. No, now I am to be a married woman, I will put aside childish diaries once and for all.

(Ed's note: there follow no more entries, and documentary evidence has not been found to provide any further information on a Cecily Cardew, aged 18, from Hertfordshire.)

13 July

Oh I *do* hope that when Ernest and I get married he will have a sister that I can make mine. I have always wanted to have a sister to sleep with. It is so very lonely here with no one to share all the wonderful secrets of your life. I certainly can't share anything with Uncle Jack! He is gone again, in a highly nervous state. Uncle Jack seems quite agitated!

12 July

Uncle Jack back this afternoon for tea, and whistling (!) a tune which I highly suspect may have been from an *operetta*! Ghastly operettas! Wherever can he have learnt *that* sort of music (if one can call it music)?

11 July

No letter from Ernest in absolute days! Perhaps he does not love me anymore. But no, I am sure that certainly could not be. Perhaps, the consequences of his latest indiscretion have prevented him from writing to his little Cecily.

Oh goodness, I hope he has not been *killed*! It would be *most* ungenerous of him to die *before* marrying me.

10 July

Uncle Jack said at dinner this evening that cousin Ernest would have to choose between this world, the next world, and Australia. I suppose he will choose Australia becasue there certainly will be many opportunities for adventure there. Uncle Jack is going up to London this weekend to buy dear Ernest's outfit. How handsome he will look in a safari outfit (Ernest, not Uncle Jack)! I *do* hope Uncle Jack will get him one of those explorer helmets—I *do* so love a man in a hat.

I am very excited to get letters from Australia. I wonder if they use stamps. It is terribly *wild* in Australia.

9 July

I have had the most unimaginable *shock* this evening! Uncle Jack has announced that cousin Ernest is going to be emigrating immediately. I can not imagine what desperate trouble he can have gotten himself into that would require such entirely *dire* measures, but I feel I certainly must prepare myself to live as a widow, for I fear I never shall see my darling Ernest more. He has not written to inform me of his position or of any plans to spirit me away with him, and so I am quite entirely *bereft*.

8 July

Ernest says I must not fear the attentions of mere *boys*. He says he will come for me soon without fail, and that I am to be a very *patient* little girl and think of him often. Oh, my prince! I know some day he will come for me. But will he ride a white horse or a black?

Tomorrow I simply will be obliged to tell Uncle Jack that I can marry no one but Ernest. In matters of matrimony, one must take a firm stand.

6 July

Uncle Jack to be back early evening. Still, obliged to study German all day. Too hot today. Weather entirely *stifling*! Merriman nowhere to be found when we wanted refills of our lemonades. I was obliged to send Maxine after him and hold my own parasol. Bother! Then received an entirely *cranky* note from Ernest, asking me *why* I have not responded to his request to refuse the attentions of the other boys. I have another party tomorrow, so I believe I will allow my petulant boy to suffer for a day before I answer him.

5 July

Uncle Jack has gone to London again as of yesterday. That is why I was obliged to suffer through German all day yesterday. Horrid German! Miss Prism is *quite* excited about our voyage to Germany this autumn. We will travel via steamer to Hamburg, and bu private train car from there. Miss Prism is most concerned that I should make a favorable impression on Germany. I am interested in making a favorable impression upon Ernest. I really must admit I am entirely fascinated by the idea of travelling on a steamer. Travelling by steamer is quite the thing.

3 July

Horrid lessons of absolutely *all* kinds today. Miss Prism is *quite* a mood. Dr. Chasuble is quite overwhelmed with christening this week and so unable to take Miss Prism off my hands. Finally found time between tea and dinner to receive a letter from Ernest. He says he certainly *hopes* that I will refuse attentions from any boys besides him, as it is not proper to receive gifts from one to whom one is not engaged. I certainly will be obliged to firmly say, but sweetly, sorry.

1 July

Today I asked Miss Prism if she thinks I am pretty. Miss Prism said all good looks are a snare. Indeed, she *always* says good looks are a snare. I suppose that is why she doesn't much like dear Dr. Barnaby. I wonder if Ernest is good looking. I'll bet he has dark, curly hair like Uncle Jack's and a simply *devastating* scar across his left cheek.

Miss Prism has informed me that Uncle Jack was most taken with Ralph and has said he (Ralph, not Uncle Jack) would be quite a suitable match. Oh Bother!

30 June

Evening party at the Arbuthnots'. Wilted spinach salad with bacon, grouse with sour plums, and a really lovely spotted dick. Tonight I was seated between Rupert (in whom I have lost all interest) and a new boy named Ralph. Ralph was entirely charming and quite witty. Ralph said I am extraordinarily pretty, especially when I laugh. Oh I *do* hope Ernest is *just like* Ralph, only not *quite* so *nice*. I don't quite *trust* boys who are nice—it seems so *devious* of them. Otherwise, Ralph would have been really perfect. But I don't like perfection—it bores me so much!

29 June

Singing lessons have been suspecned for the time being. Miss Prism feels it is better that way, as it will allow me to debut at the beginning of next year's season with a full repertoire. Naturally, I am disappointed, but Ernest writes to say that he is very excited bu the news, as it will allow him to find a way to be present for my debut. Oh, my darling boy! How proud he will be of me. I am sure he will race across the room with flowers for me and cry "Brava!" (that's Italian) with all his darling heart.

27 June

Miss Prism in a sweeter mood today at breakfast after I asked her how she was feeling on this fine morning. We even went for a short stroll together to wish a fine morning to Dr. Chasuble. I even sang a matin to him, and he was quite entirely amazed. Speechless, even. After we left him, Miss Prism noted that my spirits have been high of late and said she is quite pleased that I have given up my entire *obsessions* with Ernest and with Peter. She says she felt quite sure I would never have thrown my life away on a male beauty in distress.

26 June

I am preparing to sing at the Arbuthnots' in a few days' time. Miss Prism feels that I should practice more at reading the notes and learning the words. On this point I really must disagree. Absolutely *anyone* may learn *notes*. *I* sing with great expression and style. As a result, Miss Prism and I have entered into quite a row—she refused to allow me a third piece of cake at tea. Really, I can't see what good *starving* me does! Miss Prism is *quite unreasonable*.

Dear Ernest writes to say that he simply cannot wait to hear me sing.

25 June

Ernest wrote to me today simply to ask that I tell him *how* undressed the Marquess of Carabas *was* exactly. He was *most* concerned! This makes me wonder greatly about that old snake rumour. He says he merely desires information. *I* merely desire information.

Uncle Jack gone, so I cornered Maxine. She says it's all very natural and said didn't I ever notice the stallions and the bulls. Well of *course* I feel entirely silly now. I didn't think it polite to notice. I am *so relieved* to have the matter resolved *at last*. I suppose this proves once and for all that men are animals.

24 June

Ernest's stalk turned toward mine and I dreampt of him. Midsummer's Day evening party at Marquess Alfie's. Turtle soup with bacon, trout almondine and a lemon tart. Very tasteful as always. And the Marquess is always impeccibly (sp?) dressed. I do hope Ernest dresses *just like* the Marquess. Lovely evening. The sole dark spot was the Marquess of Carabas, who arrived almost *entirely un*dressed (!) and created quite a scene. I doubt very much that he will be asked *anywhere* again. Arriving undressed, even at a masquerade, is simply *not* the thing.

23 June

Midsummer's Eve. The servants held the bonfire but I was obliged to observe from my window as Uncle Jack kept me in at door all night. Bother! Double bother! But I did put out a Midsummer Man each for myself and Ernest, as well as a bit of coal under my pillow. I *do* hope I shall dream of him! But now I can not sleep for fear of *not* dreaming of him! Whatever shall I do if I dream of someone else? And how will I know if I *do* dream of him—how will I know, since I do not as yet know what he looks like?! I do hope he does not look like everyone else!

22 June

Tomorrow is Midsummer's Eve. I do hope I shall be able to attend the bonfire at night. Miss Prism does not approve of bonfires.

Lessons on all fronts today and my great disappointment is the Miss Prism feels I am not quite ready to sing in public as of yet. I had *so* hoped to sing for the Marquess' evening party! But I concealed my annoyance masterfully. That is good practice for evening parties.

Ernest writes to me that he will dream of me on Midsummer's Eve.

21 June

I think that I shall never see
A thing as lovely as a man
Especially one named Ernest.