Sunday 11th November 1807

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.