Dear Diary,Shocking news! Farmer Clamp's cock will rise no more. By the time I was aware I had overslept it was already lying limp. I did not hear the shot that killed it but Fanny did. Rumours abound as to who it was that fired the deadly shot but in truth no one really knows. It was indeed a rude awakening for Father's Willie. The poor little mite was trembling in Father's hands as he gently stroked its head, in his lap, at breakfast. Fanny and I spent much of the afternoon practising our waltzing in the dining room. The Parson called in this eve after visiting the Clamp's to offer his heartfelt condolences on their loss. He expressed his desire to meet Old Tom's successor and patted little Willie's head enthusiastically. I am not so easily fooled, well, not since Mrs Norris's recent contrivance and I believe the real reason for his visit was more of an inclination for getting his hands on Mrs Crutchlow's buns!
Dear Diary,As the mornings darken why is it that Farmer Clamp's cock rises earlier? Such an irritation that intrudes upon my slumber. I borrowed the stable lad, Ned, for part of the morning, once again, to help me pump the Pastor's organ whilst I played upon it. On the way home I encountered Miss Noring cantering upon a grey mare. I am not certain which shocked me more, the fact that she was wearing breeches or that she was riding astride rather than side-saddle as a lady should. This afternoon Father returned from Netherton with the pup which he has named Willie and brought news from Mr Ashforth. I am invited to Netherton to make acquaintance of his Goolies and he is to journey back to Thrushcock Grange with me. I shall go Saturday and return Sunday with my good friend. How I have missed him!
Dear Diary,I spent the morning in rustic pursuits. I used to do it with Fanny but now am more often forced to do it alone. Indeed Fanny was down at Cobbler's End helping her new close acquaintances trim their own bushes. Father, again, departed for Netherton to collect his new dog that has now been weaned. He carried with him my reply to Mr Ashforth entreating him to come.
Dear Diary,Two epistles of note today. The first bore the news that Mr Ashforth is still to come but that he has been detained. It seems that while dismounting in Netherton last week he was caught by the Goolies and they insisted that he partake of their hospitality as they are good friends of his Family. I have never heard of these Goolies but apparently they are people of no little fortune. So Mr Ashforth has been dragged away from me by the Goolies. I cannot wait for him to come. I long to hear his tales of Canada and how he ate beaver whilst there. The second epistle is good news indeed and bore news of one of Mr Pratt's balls. He is to hold one on December 7th and we are invited. What joy! Mrs Crutchlow is making what she calls 'bangers' for dinner. I must confess there is nothing I like more than a hot sausage inside me on a cold evening.
Dear Diary,It was a damp and miserable day but I desired solitude so dressed warmly and took myself down to the lake to fish. I had just got my tackle out and was fiddling with my rod when I was aware of eyes upon me. I turned and espied a beautiful vixen watching me from the path. Her sleek, amber coat was wet and shining and I noticed she was breathing heavily. For the briefest of moments we gazed into each others eyes and then she was gone. Almost immediately after, I heard the hounds approaching. Quickly, I removed my boots and filled them with water and proceeded to douse the path with water back and forth as far as I could in the little time I had before the hounds arrived. They were still swarming the path searching for the scent when the first horseman arrived. I feigned ignorance when he asked if I had seen anything of a fox. He remarked upon the stoutness of my rod and he was tempted to dismount and handle it for himself. I returned the favour by complimenting him on his lovely mount. He said he had also been lucky enough to ride her mother. At that moment the hounds, once more picked up the scent and took off. He bad farewell and continued after and was followed by several other riders on less attractive steeds. My appetite for fishing had gone and I restowed my tackle and returned home.I received the good tidings from the stable lad this eve that the hunt had returned without a kill. I could have embraced him heartily had he not been shovelling manure.
Dear Diary,The plot is revealed. When I heard the barouche draw up just before lunch I thought that Mr Ashforth had finally come, but no. The carriage brought Mrs Norris' niece, Miss Pott. I assumed that her visit was out of concern for her Aunt's health. I have been a fool. I should have realised when Miss Pott was seated beside me at lunch the manipulation that was afoot. It was not until I was requested to escort Miss Pott on a tour of the grounds , that I finally realised the extent of the plot. I am sure Fanny knew nought of what Mother and Mrs Norris had planned. I am convinced Mrs Norris is in good health and is only here to oversee the match making. Miss Pott is agreeable and without a doubt, also, a pawn in this game. I am aware that she holds me in a higher esteem than I at present feel for her but I enjoyed her company though forced as it was. We talked balls and I was astonished at her experience of balls for someone so young. When she departed I was happy only in that Mrs Norris departed with her and her smelly beast also. I have remained taciturn, this evening, despite enquiring looks from my Mother and retired fairly early to my chamber. I am sure I have not seen the last of Miss Honey Pott.
Dear Diary, Such a miserable day. Mrs Norris and her foul fiend were omnipresent. She seems to be in good health when sat chatting with Mother but strangely ails whenever I appear. Fanny went to call upon the ladies at Cobbler's End and I heard the scratching of Jane's quill coming from her room. Father asked if I wanted to go shoot pheasant but I suspect I would have been more a human gun dog than hunting companion. I feel in fairly low spirits this evening and have retired to bed early. I feel something is afoot. Let us see what tomorrow brings.
Dear Diary,I awoke in an excited state even before Farmer Clamp's cock was able to intrude upon my sleep. I was out and upon Cobbler's Knob before the sun rose. Sadly it was too cloudy and dawn came behind the grey blanket of the sky. I returned to The Grange refreshed and set upon Mrs Crutchlow's eggs with relish. She makes a tasty relish. I spent the morning down at the Chapel as the Pastor kindly allows me to play upon his organ. Farmer Clamp's daughter, Titty arrived while I was struggling with Paul Gerhardt's 'Sacred Head'. She made a beautiful arrangement with Holly and Rhododendron by the pulpit then asked if she could sit awhile and eavesdrop upon my rehearsal. I invited her to sit beside me and assist in turning the pages but she flushed and declined. I returned home at noon and was met by Mrs Norris's awful snub nosed rodent as it raced across the lawn to bark at my feet. She was unwell and Mother had offered her comfort and company while she recovers. Doctor Proctor came in the afternoon. I hope he was able to quicken her recovery but I would not be surprised if his leeches had refused to bite. At dinner this evening I accidentally trod on the putrid pug as it gambolled greedily beneath the dining table hoping for titbits. I cannot deny I found it difficult to contain my smile at its slight misfortune. Indeed, I think it has been a good day.
Dear Diary,
I am concerned about Mr Ashforth. I have heard nothing since his last epistle in which he stated his intention to call upon us. What can be detaining him? Every time I hear the approach of a barouche my heart leaps with excitement but then shattered by disappointment when it is not he. Today, it was Fanny's turn to be visited upon by a prospective suitor, a Mr Pratt. I had not heard him arrive and came upon him in the drawing room nonchalantly stroking Fanny's pussy. He has no chin! When he had gone I implored, dear Fanny, to only encourage those who possessed chin's at least. She replied that he had boasted of his balls and said that she had heard rumours that recently one had been magnificent. I cannot deny my interest was peeked at this news. Maybe if Fanny continues to flutter her eyelashes we will get to experience Mr Pratt's balls.
Dear Diary,In Chapel today, there was a noticeable faltering in the robust manner with which the congregation normally approaches the hymns and in particular during the second verse of "Onward Christian Soldiers". A great majority of the gathered had noticed the late arrival of Miss Lott and Miss Noring, our recently arrived new neighbours at Cobbler's End, as they slipped into a back pew. The Pastor's sermon was only remarkable in that it was more tedious than usual and seemed to last twice as long. Fanny and I excused ourselves from the usual post service gossiping and hurried up the lane after the ladies to make their acquaintance. We were quite out of breath by the time we caught up with them for, indeed, their pace was brisk and their strides long for gentlewomen. Beneath the bare branches of an oak tree we introduced ourselves and were happy to make the acquaintance of Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring. I enquired as to how they were finding Cobbler's End and they replied that it was comfortable and accommodating. We made polite small talk for some moments and were laughing at the Pastor's spiritless sermon when I blurted out that I had heard they were thespians. There was a sudden uncomfortable silence and the two ladies exchanged a pained glance. I felt that I had somehow offended them but knew not how. It was somewhat fortuitous that at that moment a squirrel ran up my leg, mistaking my tan breeches for a stout sapling, no doubt, in search of nuts. (The only trouble with this country living is that nature is abundant hereabouts and will insist upon encroaching upon my person.). The good ladies both dissolved into fits of laughter as I hopped about trying to rid myself of the little beast. All awkwardness seemed forgotten and we parted in good humour with the ladies inviting Fanny to call upon them to tickle their ivories.I have such an array of scratches upon my inner thigh I cannot tell you. I pray that they do not become infected. Well that is all of note for today, and now I must away for I have need of mastication.
Dear Diary,I have not been neglecting you, nay nay, no no, it is just that the past few days have been so dull and uneventful that I felt it best not to bother you with their inane dullness. There was a monstrous eight -legged beast in the lavatory the other morning which made me feel faint with the horror of it but my dear Fanny set her pet cat, Tuppence upon it. Today I have heard news of our new neighbours at Cobbler's End. The rumour was that it was taken by two sisters but it seems the two gentlewomen are not related at all. While walking the woodland paths today I was privee to a conversation between Doctor Proctor and the Parson, though they were unaware of my presence. The ladies are to arrive at the weekend and then leaning ever closer to the Parson I am sure Doctor Proctor said that he believed them to be thespians. I feel I shall have to call upon them when they are comfortably settled and make their acquaintance.
Dear Diary,Such a frost, there was this morning. I dressed in haste and ventured out and into the woods for a brisk and refreshing walk. I was grateful on my return to come upon Jane seated by the brook and she allowed me to warm my chilled hands in her muff. As we approached the Grange, we espied Mr Scrote, a determined suitor of Jane's, being lifted from his carriage. We could hear the scrape of his wooden leg as he limped towards the front door. When he dropped his ear trumpet on the first step, Jane lifted her skirts and ran back into the woods. It was left to me to convey her apologies to Mr Scrote. He understood what I was trying to say at the third attempt and I helped him back to his carriage. Disaster was averted by his vigilant coachman when the horse was startled by Mr Scrote breaking wind as I pushed him up the last step. The carriage jolted and Mr Scrote fell forward onto the carriage floor. I hastily shut the door and winked the coachman off. I am optimistic that the morrow shall be less fraught and more fragrant.
Dear Diary,
I am returned from Manchesterford and can scarce sit down after such hard riding but my dear Fanny has brought me an embroidered cushion and I am grateful of it's comfort.
What a different world is that of, my old friend, Mr Griffiths! I arrived at Dean Court yesterday afternoon and was shown into his town house by his butler. I waited for some moments in the lobby before, his butler informed me that I should go on up to his rooms. I ventured into his bedchamber but again there was no sign of my dear friend. It was then that I became aware of tittering coming from the closet and sure enough Mr Griffiths burst out crying " I cannot stay in the closet a moment longer!" We embraced for some time and then went off into the town for refreshment and amusement. Such a vast array of dishes are available to wealthy townsfolk and we did enjoy a variety of nibbles before venturing to the theatre, a joy I miss residing at Thrushcock Grange.
Mr Griffiths is well acquainted with thespians and I, too, love to be in the company of thespians. I doubt my parents or my dear sisters would have enjoyed the spectacle to which I was party but there were some very poignant ditties. The gentlemen on the stage carried themselves with deportment despite the lack of costume, indeed if any! Mr Griffiths, intuitively, noted my surprise and said that obviously the budget had not been sufficient to cover costume acquisition and yet, strangely, it did not detract from the evening. The many ladies in the audience seemed very appreciative but none more so than Mr Griffiths. Back at Dean Court I spent a restless night and had the strangest dream. I dreamt I was walking by an unfamiliar lake, with Mr Griffiths, in deep conversation when he suddenly stopped, turned and produced from within his tunic, the largest shuttlecock I had ever seen. He enquired if I wanted to play with it. I was somewhat taken aback by its size and the manner of its revealment that I stepped back, knocking my sister's acquaintance, Mr Darcy, back into the lake from which he had emerged in his wet, white shirt. I awoke with Palpitations and screamed "Get out of my bed, Palpitations! You butle too far!"
It is good to be home once more and nothing seems more cosy and welcoming than one's own bed and surroundings. I must make enquiries regarding thespians locally; I should very much like to meet them.
Dear Diary,An unexpected visit by Mrs Norris and her awful pug, yesterday has left me quite faint with anxiety. Her nasty snub-nosed beast disappeared for most of the afternoon, which caused her the most awful distress. Never was there such a wailing to be heard, well not since the death of Old Tom, and recalling it now I believe the Pastor to be a much more accomplished wailer than Mrs Norris. I digress. That nasty, smelly bag of slaver was eventually found down in the larder licking at one of Mrs Crutchlow's old cheeses. But that is not the end of this sorry tale, Oh no! Imagine my horror when I discovered in the eve that the beast had been rooting, unbeknownst to me, in my private places and had removed my diary from its resting place. I was quite frantic with worry and cursed the animal with words I dare not write down here. Thankfully, I recovered it this morning behind my water closet and it was still moist with the fiend's juices. I cannot deny I dreamt last night of the beast meeting its ends in similar circumstances to my Father's dear dog but awoke with alarm, when on close examination it appeared to have the grinning face of Mrs Norris as it lay prostrate in the dying fern. Today, I am to Manchesterford, to visit my old friend Mr Griffiths, but shall return on the morrow. Adieu.
Dear Diary,I was somewhat indisposed yesterday and scarcely rose from my bed. I suspect I caught a chill on my recent ride atop Cobbler's Knob. Fanny was all for calling Doctor Proctor but the weather was terribly inclement and I felt a day in bed would suffice. I still feel weak and just this little exertion is causing my wrist great distress. Yet again today, we have been greatly troubled by wind. How my casement has rattled. It would have to be a stout leaf that remains upon its bough this very day. I must away...I hear our housekeeper, Mrs Crutchlow, approach with her jugs to bring me succour.
Dear Diary,Awakened as usual by Farmer Clamp's cock. I often dream of grasping its head and squeezing and shaking it until it splutters but I scarce think I would be able to do it should the opportunity arise. I contemplated discussing my diary with my sister Jane at breakfast but refrained on this occasion as her head was buried in a book and rarely did her eyes leave its ivory pages as she forked her eggs. Father announced he was off to Netherton to see a man about a dog. Why do we need another dog? I am not a dog lover. They smell somewhat and have repulsive habits. Father's last canine companion sadly died in a hunting accident last July at the hands of the ill-sighted Pastor who mistook Old Tom for a rampant badger. It would have been understandable had Old Tom been black and white but he was an Irish Setter.
I received an epistle from my good friend Mr Ashforth. He may call on me here at Thrushcock Grange at his earliest convenience. I feel quite elated at this news.
Dear Diary,I am all of a quiver. I have just, this moment, returned from a brisk ride upon Cobbler's Knob and have scarce had time to adjust the seat of my breeches, and yet I am compelled to set to and commence this diary I have, so long, postponed. T'was only yesterday, whilst plaiting the hair of my dear Fanny, beneath the seclusion of the willow down by the river, that I felt a stirring deep down. Oh, how we screamed when we discovered I was perched upon the entrance to the home of a water vole which was vigorously trying to exit. Without a care for anything or anyone I hurled my poor Fanny forward. How fortuitous that she can swim! She emerged dripping wet and once recovered we both laughed and she remarked how it would have been a fine tale for my diary if only I had begun it. I pondered her words and thought how fine Fanny looked, even wet and dripping. But it was just now upon the Knob, that it came to me! No more shall I dilly dally! No more shall I procrastinate! And so I have hurried home to begin at once, though I did venture into the lavatory for a moments relief, and here I am. I very much doubt I shall be able to prevail upon you daily but I shall endeavour to offer up my thoughts and inner most feelings and tell, oft ,of occurrences here at Thrushcock Grange and of my acquaintances. I hope that it will not be all balls. Indeed , I doubt that very much. Why does no one hold balls anymore? How I long for balls! I fear I shall have to hold balls of my own.
