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.)

8 June

Lovely day, and I distracted Miss Prism from these entirely *incessant* lessons by taking her from a walk through the garden and as far as the schools. On the way back, we ventured into the rectory for a short prayer (that Ernest shall return safe and soon) and a chat with *dear* Dr. Chasuble, who kept Miss Prism after. Rest of day alone. Uncle Jack spending an *excessive* amount of time in his library. He is becoming entirely *hermitish*! But tomorrow we will get him out at last. Tomorrow Uncle Jack and I travel to the Arbuthnots' for the week-end. *Two* evening parties! I hope Rupert will be there.

9 May

Nothing to do at all today. Miss Prism off with Dr. Chasuble after morning vespers and breakfast. I *do* hate morning vespers. They are held so desperately *early*. I am always so frightfully ravenous by the time they start. It is most inconvenient. Uncle Jack always says I have a capital appetite and that it is a sign of good breeding.

At breakfast, ate all the muffins. Dr. Chasuble says perhaps my appetite is a touch too capital. The others were all quite put out.

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.

25 April

I went for my first walk outside today—went across the meadow (carefully avoided barn) and up to one of the smaller hills quite close, where I received an *enormous* bouquet of flowers from my darling Ernest! he is most *desperately* afraid of losing me! I am afraid our first breakup was quite a blow to him. I feel it is always best to let a man see what he could lose so that he will make sure not to take one for granted. Miss Prism calls it "the fear of God" and says it can be helpful in all *sorts* of situations.

10 April

Mudie quizzed me on her birthday 3-volume novel this morning. At the last, I was obliged to own I had not finished it as yet. Told her I was reading as slowly as possible since I simply cannot *bear* for it to end. Dr. Chasuble says a lie that hurts no one is not *really* a lie in God's eyes.
Short note from Ernest wishing me a very lovely Easter and a most joyous end to Lent. Horrid Lent! Why do we have to celebrate (?) Lent? It seems very unfair!

17 March

Long walk today. Weather entirely charming today and the servants of the Catholic persuasion all quite drunk with Spring today, only of course it is not *quite* Spring yet. The Catholics always seem to get things a little funny.

Charming letter from my Ernest. He says he certainly will not allow Uncle Jack to stand in the way and he promises to take me to a masquerade when I am old enough. He is very fond of masquerades.

11 March

Miss Prism explained to me that London itself does seem to have a *most* crippling effect upon those of a weak constitution and that no doubt cousin Ernest's naturally delicate nature was corrupted at an impressionable age, that his innocence was quite *crushed* by the horrors around him. The poor dear boy! How lucky for him that he has found me. I will protect him and save his soul. I always think it is quite important for a young lady to save as many souls as possible.

8 March

Just understood at *last* how to solve my christening problems. You see, one must quite clearly lift the fish out of the water and then re-immerse them. Certainly that would save them... twice! Still the problem of sharks, though.

Letter from Ernest. He says Miss Prism is a fearful liar. What a wicked boy he is! I love him more than ever.

Dinner was mutton.

3 March

Campaign quite destroyed, as I, for one, am entirely unwilling to baptize sharks.

Oh, I *do* hate Lent! So very *bored* all day! Uncle Jack whistling *all day* long, and that certainly can not be proper during Lent or at any other time if one is a guardian. Uncle Jack certainly is behaving *most* strangely of late. Whenever he returns from saving Ernest, he is quite *giddy*, one might say.

Mutton for dinner again.

2 March

Dr. Chasuble says "it is high time" I ended my lessons with him. He says he will speak to me about my campaign at a later date, as it is not a proper subject for the Lenten period. Now that I think of it, nothing at all seems to be a proper subject for the Lenten period.

Evening—Uncle Jack back. No word of Ernest. Mutton for dinner. I *do* love mutton!

1 March

Trouble with my campaign. I am worried about how it may *look* if we christen the lambs but not the fishes. It certainly cannot be right to christen fishes. One can't even *say* "christen fishes." Also, they are already wet, so...?

Letter from Ernest. He is charmed by my campaign and says to "keep up the good work for our country." I suppose that means he must be a revolutionary *for* England rather than against it. I am *so* glad!

28 February

A surprise letter from Ernest. He *is* in jail, but they have allowed him pen and paper for good behavior. Uncle Jack is expected any minute, and dear Ernest is taking the *greatest* care that Uncle Jack should not discover him writing to me. He wants to preserve my honor after all. It would not do for the wife of a bomber to have a sullied name. I wonder whether we ought not christen the little baby cows as well. They are also God's creatures, even though they are not quite as cute as the lambs.

26 February

I have begun a campaign to convince dear Dr. Chasuble to baptize the dear little lambs when they are born. I feel that Our Lord Jesus would wish it. I know I wish it. I am naming the campaign the Christen Christ the Lamb's Lamb Campaign (CCLLC).

24 February

Miss Prism has decided that since I am to study with Dr. Chasuble every day, she will relocate *her* day lessons to the rectory for now.

Horrid Geography!

Horrid weather. We were entirely *sopping* by the time we arrived at the rectory, and after all, Dr. Chasuble was too busy with christenings (as usual) to give any lesson of any kind.

I know animals don't have souls, but I think they deserve to go to heaven anyway. I think it would be so cute to baptize the little lambs when they are born!

19 February

Miss Prism and Dr. Chasuble are under the impression that my dear Ernest is a *libertine*! I don't approve of libertines at *all*. I much prefer the Tories. I wonder if he is a revolutionary libertine, perhaps under the pay of the Catholics in Ireland. If so, one could certainly understand why Uncle Jack does not allow him in the household. We have had quite enough revolutions here already!

11 February

Miss Prism very cross indeed all morning, chiefly, I believe, because Dr. Chasuble has been absent quite often recently. I am quite sure that my Miss Prism has a more than usual interest in praying, because she certainly appears to find dear Dr. Chasuble of great interest, and he has told me he will never marry. Could there be yet *another* scandal brewing in our little household? And speaking of scandals, I have determined to begin an affair with Uncle Jack's wicked brother Ernest *immediately*. It certainly wouldn't do to wait until someone else discovers him.

30 January

Whole household in mourning today, as the first Mary has died in childbed. Of course, we are supposed to forget that she ever existed, but she really was quite a sweet child. We all found ourselves back at the rectory despite our best intentions. Meals entirely disrupted. Miss Prism seized the opportunity to point out that had these girls had any sense at all, they would not have been in this position, and our meals would remain on time! She is fond of pointing out the fact that the Catholics as a sect seem to have no sense of moral responsibility or thrift at all.

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.

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.