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.)

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.

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.

7 July

Absolutely captivating afternoon party at the Marquess'. I wore white tulle. Indeed, we all wore white, as it was a croquet party. Rupert and Ralph both present, as was the Marquess of Carabas, whom Alfie finds charming (!), and it was quite a fine day. Luckily, my dear guardian had thoroughly instructed me in how to play croquet very badly indeed, so I was the object if simply *all* the boys' attentions. Uncle Jack suggested I might allow Rupert and Ralph to call on me on occasion. Whatever shall I do? I am almost anxious.

Charming game of charades—Ralph and I won one round. If only he weren't so *clean*!

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.

2 July

I *must* dissuade my guardian from marrying me to Ralph! I am growing almost *desperate* merely thinking about it! I simply cannot bear to be married to a *nice* boy. It would give me absolutely nothing to *do*! I feel a young girl must have an occupation, and certainly one's husband is the only really suitable occupation. But when a boy is already perfect, he can *hardly* be made into any kind of project at all.

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!

17 June

My dear guardian has so many philanthropies that he has been in London for many days. He has, in addition to the N.A.A.C.P. and our new Farmers Food Insurance Fund, the S.O.B (Save the Buttons), the W.A.V.E (Widows Against Vegetarian Eating), the Liberal Unionists Against Reasonable Seizure, and the Wives of Foreign Wars. I always think it is good for a man to have an occupation but it is my opinion that my dear guardian is going entirely *too far*. My occupation until I marry my true love Ernest, is writing this little diary. It will be most charming reading for other young ladies and also quite entirely *instructional* for the lower orders.

30 May

I don't much like Uncle Jack being here so very often. He was ever so much more cheerful when he was running off to save Ernest from his scrapes. And I do miss Ernest so very much. These days are entirely *interminable*. That means they have no end. I am building my vocabulary so that I can appear in Society or abroad with Ernest after we are married.

28 May

Quite possibly the most boring day ever. Miss Prism entirely *missing* today, and Uncle Jack entirely confining himself to the library all day again. Merriman *hovering* everywhere I went. Nothing to do outside. Dr. Chasuble engrossed in christenings. Finally went and sat by Uncle Jack in the library. Excessively boring.

P.S. It's spelled "celibate"—and it means a person who is not married and has no relations. I am a celibate.

1 May

May Day at last! We arrived quite early in the village and stayed long after dark, until the official festivities were over. Naturally, I was required to open and close the ceremony, as well as lead the maypole dance. I have always like the maypole dance very much, but this year it seemed so childish. I had rather planned to steal a kiss from dear Dr. Barnaby, but I saw him there with his young wife and baby. The whole day went quite dark for me then. I cannot speak any more about it.

30 April

How shall I ever escape Miss Prism? She is positively *bombarding* me with Geology. Horrid, horrid Geology! It is enough to drive one perfectly frantic! I was obliged to ask her *why* I must be forced to learn all these horrid lessons. I *really* can't *see how* I will *ever* use Political Economy in the future if Ernest is not a mad bomber. But Miss Prism assures me that German and Geology and things like that influence a man very much.

Uncle Jack back. My May Queen dress arrived with him. I will look stunning. It is all pink with ribbons and bows. I wonder if my dear doctor will notice.

Ernest not speaking to me. Will G and G influence Dr. Barnaby very much?

28 April

Uncle Jack has gone away again. He has ever so much planning to do for the charity ball, which is to occur on 15 May. I have been obliged to give up my idea of having a masquerade. Uncle Jack is hearing nothing of it, and Miss Prism says masquerades are positively indecent. Ernest writes that he is very much disappointed, as he had *so* hoped to sneak in disguised and spirit me away with him. Oh, when shall we ever be together? I despair!

27 March

My sweet, wonderful, loving boy has returned to me! At dawn, a letter from him appeared as if by magic. The morning post seems to be coming alarmingly early these days, now I come to think of it. This letter, like the others, was so beautiful, and so badly spelled, that I fell into a fit of sobs from which I did not recover for at least 5 minutes. Of course I had to forgive him. Firmness is one thing—hard-heartedness is quite another. And of course it would never do to be hard-hearted in matters of the heart. That would make no sense.

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.

22 March

Today I broke off my engagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so.

The weather still continues charming.

15 March

My dear sweet Ernest has written to tell me not to worry my pretty little head about his troubles, his nature or what is in his knickers. He certainly has calmed my fears. He says he merely overindulges a little because he so much enjoys the pleasures of London. He feels there is no doubt at all that our marriage will have a most *soothing* and pleasant effect upon him, and he is most desperately excited to show me all around London as soon as he can. He hopes to meet me very soon. Oh dear, I love him so very much!

10 March

At last, I have engaged dear Miss Prism in a *really* long conversation about my Ernest. Of course I *dared* not inform her of our impending marriage—I merely asked her to explain his nature to me so I could avoid those pitfalls myself. Miss Prism is not sure whether cousin Ernest was born evil or whether it is simply a result of a corrupting atmosphere. Ordinarily, she says, she would be inclined to place the blame upon poor parenting, but since dear Uncle Jack also had no parents, one is hardly inclined to believe that idea at all. More tomorrow.

6 March

Ernest says that the clever people are not at all a bore, that it is the people who merely *wish* to be clever and are not clever that are a bore. Ernest says that when we are married, he will take me to London immediately and show me the clever people himself. Ernest says that he also does not much like listening but that he does like talking very much indeed.