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.

6 May

My dear guardian and I went for a nice drive today, as the weather was charming. We made morning visits to Lady Percival, who served us some entirely lovely muffins, and then back through the village, where we stopped in at Bosie Jones, the blacksmith's, and had the horses re-shod. I forgot to mention that that impudent boy, P, was let go some time ago, and at present we have no main stable boy to make the errand on our behalf.

Old Bosie tell the *most eccentric and entirely unbelievable* stories. He is a Welshman. I always think the Welsh are so very quaint! Bosie is quite fond of ale. He even let me have a sip once when I was very much younger. I wonder if Ernest is fond of ale. Fingal O'Flahertie waved at me and I motioned him to keep my secret. He is a good man for a Catholic.

23 March

Consoled myself with a long walk today, back to the old barn where Peter and I were wont to meet in my younger, more innocent days. How tragic it is to be a formerly engaged girl. Still, I know I did the right thing. It is a far, far better thing I do than to allow my honor to be held up to question in any way. Still, aye me!

Weather really lovely today!

Later—two charmingly imploring letters from Ernest. But I must be firm in my decision.

20 March

Uncle Jack gone just for today and part of tomorrow. Weather entirely charming today, so we held lessons out-of-doors, and Dr. Chasuble came by to take Miss Prism for a walk to "keep fresh her complexion." Little Francine kept me company, and we were having such fun behaving like sisters until she told me in confidence to whom the snake belongs. She says it was *Peter*(!) and that all the Marys saw it too and that's why they are no longer here. What a wicked, wicked girl she is! I will nevermore believe her lies. I took to my bed at once.

1 February

The weather has been charming of late. I have been taking extended walks, mostly to avoid dreary lessons, though I am sure Miss Prism thinks I am off to see Peter. I really can not bear to see Peter any more. I simply haven't the energy.

I do hope on one of these walks I will find a really suitable man. I won't go for that same type again. I feel one should always learn from one's mistakes. This time I shall find someone who is impeccably (sp?) dressed, but whom one can still suspect of being somehow not quite clean. Uncle Jack leaving again this afternoon. I know what *that* means!

31 January

I think I will make Francine my new ladies' maid. She is a most sensible girl and very gay and amusing. Her sister Maggie is, sadly, a bit plain of speech but also thoroughly sensible. More sensible, in fact, than Francine. Francine has been consoling me very sweetly. I am afraid I could not help but turn pale at the mention of P's name, and she ran to get me a sip of water immediately and then later brought me a darling bouquet of meadow flowers. What a sweet and loyal child! Peter nowhere to be found. Men are *so* cowardly!

29 January

I have refused to speak to Peter today, mostly because he made himself entirely unavailable.
Uncle Jack and Miss Prism very cranky today as well. And the weather not cooperating at all.

Later—Uncle Jack took the entire of the remaining household to the rectory for a special sermon from Dr. Chasuble, who spoke, once again, upon the subject of the manna in the wilderness. This time, I was forced to stay awake for the entire sermon and after sermon as well. Miss Prism stayed behind for further prayer.

28 January

I have recovered from my affections for that impudent boy. I will question Maggie further at once.

Later—I may faint. I have just learnt the most terrible news! Apparently, the 4 dismissed girls had all been secretly married, as they *all* were *with child*! I am afraid there has been an entire white slavery ring in our under-stairs! (I know the girl Maggie was telling the truth, because she refused to accept the few coins I offered her.) It seems that Peter was most definitely involved in some small way, though Maggie would not say how. The horrid boy must have been involved in the transport of the poor babes.

27 January

Met with Maggie at last, and I am too ill to write. There is a dreadful, dreadful scandal, and she feels *Peter* may be involved! I sent her away at once.

Weather charming today.

25 January

Dreadful lessons simply all day! I really can not understand why I should read political economy. It doesn't seem at *all* a proper sort of subject for a young girl. Besides, it is excessively *boring*! Luckily, Dr. Chasuble happened along and Miss Prism felt she needed to talk to him about an important matter, so I hied myself to the barn to Peter. He made love to me as always, but he seemed strangely distant and did not even *try* to touch me. Really! I *hardly* expected that sort of behavior from my future husband. I informed him that I will expect better from him in future.

23 January

Uncle Jack still gone, but I managed to slip away from *dear* Miss Prism and get down to the barn. *No Peter again!* Luckily, I took along a really *marvellous* (sp?) novel! I read all day and felt those strange sensations again, even though Peter wasn't there. I *loved* the book. It ended so very tragically, with the dear heroine being thrown from her stallion and lingering for several days, unable to see her lover—just like me! Oh, if only Mudie's ghastly 3-volume dealies were like this! Mudie really could learn a thing or two about novel writing.

22 January

Uncle Jack has mysteriously disappeared once again. He is growing more and more interesting all the time! Where *can* he be going? Of late he is gone at least once a week for two days at a time. Once even three! And whenever he goes, Miss Prism lays particular emphasis on my German lessons, which I *loathe*! Is she trying to punish me for something? Why must she punish me for *him* going away? No Peter today. He has mysteriously disappeared as well. I am beginning to believe that something is not quite right.

21 January

A blustery, blustery day. Miss Prism did allow me a day off lessons, as we have been so upset about the goings on amongst the serving staff of the house. It is all quite a mystery—one I intend in my few spare moment to unravel. Today Miss Prism suggested that I read Mrs. LT Meade's novel The School Queens. I curlt up by the fire and did so. It was somewhat amusing, though I found it a bit *young* for my taste. It did not *thrill.*
The weather cleared this evening , so I will go meet my darling P. tomorrow. *He* will thrill.

20 January

There has been another disturbance among the scullery maids, with the result that dinner arrived both late and also somehow a bit en deshabille (oh where is an accent on the keyboard when you need two?). The quail's legs were, I am afraid, not properly tied together. Miss Prism, in fact, refused to eat them altogether. I thought they tasted fine. Uncle Jack says good help is *so* hard to find these days. I am *so* afraid this may be the early signs of a Catholic revolt in our very household. I must confide in Peter and be sure he will be ready to protect me should such a devastating occurrence come to pass.

Later—Peter very petulant indeed.

19 January

I have been thinking very much about the important question of London Society versus Highland Society, which is highly likely to be no kind of society at all. Indeed, it is likely to be a society of sheep! And yet I feel quite certain that Peter can not be quite trained to fit in to London Society. It is quite easy to train a dog—it is not quite so easy, I should think, to train a man. They seem most stubborn creatures! Whatever shall I do?

18 January

No chance at all to speak to Peter today. We had excessively boring neighbors (!) over. It was the most absolutely tedious affair. But Uncle Jack did say it was terribly necessary for me to learn the finer points of the social graces. It is true that I don't often engage with society, but after all, I am sure that the Hertfordshire set is *hardly* of the same calibre as proper London society. I shall certainly be obliged to speak to Uncle Jack about introducing me properly. This is of course so that I may be able to make friends on my own after Peter and I have eloped.

17 January

Saw Peter at the house this afternoon! Whatever can he have been doing here? He looked rather surprised to to see me and said that he was in an exceptional rush to get back to the stables, but I am sure that he is, once again, guarding my honour as the lady of the manor. No doubt he was hoping to catch me alone!

Later—
Dr. Chasuble's "Manna in the Wilderness" sermon again at evensong, so I got a good rest. In fact, I believe we all did.

16 January

*Almost* a disastrous day! Escaped lessons today, due to Miss Prism's being obliged to run an errand in the village. Of course I *immediately* ran to see darling Peter at our secret meeting place. Once there, it began to rain. So I most certainly could not *leave*! I grew almost anxious, but the dear lad took me in his arms and distracted me entirely, so entirely, in fact, that I very nearly missed tea! There was very nearly a scandal. Luckily, the rain abated.

14 January

Humiliation! How will I ever forgive myself?! I have been an unbearably silly little girl indeed. I met with Peter again for a very brief space of time between today's *two* German lessons (!) and he has clarified the mysterious matter of the undergarments. He explained to poor, silly me that he never meant to look at my undergarments but merely hoped to prevent the dirtying of my overgarments. Seeing as how the barn is, after all, an excessively *dirty* place, I feel his explanation to be quite satisfactory. The dear boy merely hoped to protect my honour! I will certainly be obliged to overcome my bashful nature in the very near future!

13 January

Peter very sulky again.
Uncle Jack gone.
Horrid, horrid German.