Dear Diary,I awoke in a sweat in the dead of night after a dreadful dream where I was being pursued by a wolf that had Malcolm's head! Such howling the beast made but imagine my shock when awake I found the howling continued and was actually coming from outside in the dark. I did not open my casement for the rain was pouring down and peering out could see nought. The howl ceased and shortly after, there came a tapping at my door and in slipped Evelyn Tent in her night dress and wrapped in a mauve shawl. She sat on the end of my bed and looked most fearful. She said she too had been woken by the noise outside and asked what it was. I had my own suspicions but suggested the wind, which she seemed to accept as most likely. She wondered if I would be kind enough to take her out for a ride in the morning and I said I was sure that we all would enjoy a canter after breakfast. She looked downcast and said she had hoped that we could spend some time alone together. I do not know if she noticed me visibly stiffen but I did and my mouth went quite dry. There followed quite an uncomfortable and lengthy silence, as I tried to maintain my fixed smile. Presently, she stood and bade me a goodnight and slipped out. Why me? Why am I sought after by those who I do not seek and cannot tempt those that I do? I do not find her appealing and besides that mauve shawl jarred awfully with her nightgown. In short she has no style.I slipped out myself and descended quietly to the scullery for some refreshment. As I entered I encountered Ned standing before the fire, bare-chested, in nought but his socks and underclothes. He had not noticed me enter and was drying his clothes on the range as he must have been out in the rain. I stiffened for the second time that night and could scarce breathe. I did not know what to do, so just stood and stared. I found myself thinking, how strange that Ned too had no style as he stood there in his oversized underclothes and odd socks and yet he was most appealing. For an awful, yet thrilling, moment I thought he was about to remove his remaining vestments but he turned and leapt back and uttered a word that a gentleman, such as I am, could not possibly write. He apologised immediately as I smiled weakly and motioned to the water jug, poured myself a glass and bade him goodnight. I returned to my room and pondered upon my nocturnal encounters. Only one remained full in my mind as I slipped off to sleep.Evelyn did not get her ride. The weather was far too inclement to venture out and so we remained indoors. Fanny commented that I seemed distracted. I confess there were things upon my mind.
Dear Diary,It was a lovely bright day but I remained for much of it in my chamber and feigned illness. If truth be told I was not wholly feeling myself. The events of yesterday had been distressing but the presence of the Tents makes me tense. I had much time for contemplation and inward thought especially after Fanny brought up a short missive from Mr Fairweather. He had recently been walking where we had walked and said he felt that something was missing. I am grateful for his thoughts of me but am sure it was no more than a fleeting memory. He has been quite busy and said he is to go abroad with a friend for a short time in the coming weeks. I do not know how to put into words how I feel. I stood before the looking glass and stared at myself to try and fathom what it is he cannot see in me that he can see in others. Is it without or within? Am I not a decent and honest man with a generous heart and good humour? I know not how to blame him for his blindness and not myself for some deficiency in me. I wish that I could. Sometimes I feel self obsessed and my desire to love makes me blind to all about me. I am a rich man, not so much in wealth, but in family, friends and health. I should cherish that more.
Dear Diary,Tragedy! We took Malcolm out on a shoot today as he is fond of manly pursuits. We returned for lunch at the Grange and then ventured back out in the afternoon and Father insisted, this time, on forcing his reluctant Willie out too. We were stalking through a hawthorn thicket down by the pond, when Malcolm cocked his weapon, aimed at an unsuspecting mallard, and pulled the trigger. Willie whimpered and turned to flee and then let out the most horrendous howl. In it's panic it had turned and a thorn had pierced it's left eye. I am quite queasy at the telling of it now. The shoot was abandoned and Father carried the poor beast home. Doctor Proctor was hurriedly summoned to see what could be done. He said that the removal of the damaged eye would only cause unnecessary suffering and that he felt it was kindest to put the poor beast out of it's misery. That could have been the sad end of Father's Willie but it owes it's life to Mrs Crutchlow. She suggested plying it with wine until it was in a drunken stupor and then removing the eye, and I am happy to say it was duly done. How we paced about the sitting room while the task was carried out and only afterwards did we realise that we had completely forgotten about dinner. I came to bed and left Father crouched by the warmth of the fire in the sitting room stroking his poor one eyed Willie as it lay limply in his lap.
Dear Diary,I was dreaming I was sat beside a trickling brook when I woke up, this morn, to find Malcolm Tent micturating in my water closet, his night shirt tucked up around the hairiest pair of buttocks I have ever beheld. It was all I could do to stifle the squeal of shock that rose in my throat. It was kippers for breakfast and I almost choked on a bone. I fear I need not inform you who slapped me upon my back to dislodge it. Evelyn is becoming very attentive and I fear she is developing a high regard for me. Fanny and she departed for Cobbler's End to call upon the ladies therein and I took Malcolm around the grounds and for a stroll atop the Knob. It is indeed a magnificent view and today the sky was clear and a beautiful pale blue. We stood there admiring the vista when Malcolm belched loudly, startling some small creature not far away, which rustled off, and a waft of kipper assailed my olfactory organs. I looked Heavenwards to plead for strength and noticed a flock of geese, in a perfect 'v' formation directly overhead as they headed south. A moment later something white and glutinous bespattered my frock coat. Why me? Have I offended Mother Nature so much that I am invaded by voles and squirrels, taunted by magpies, urinated on by sheep and now attacked from the air? Is it now my fate to be stalked and eaten by a wolf? Malcolm was most amused. "Come on" he said and thumped me on the back. How I wanted to kick those hairy buttocks!
Dear Diary,I was surprised to see the Bishop had journeyed to our humble Chapel this morning. I knew nought of it and judging by the tiny congregation neither did anyone else. I suspect it has come to his Reverend's attention that the Parson has been preoccupied of late. The service was as incredibly dull as usual though I did notice the Bible quivering in the Parson's hand as he read from the Epistle to Titus. I spent much of the service worrying how I should address the Bishop on departure and in the end decided to say nothing and just bent and kissed his ring. Back at the Grange I discovered a packet on the hall stand, addressed to me. It seems it had arrived yesterday and no one had thought to mention it. How vexing! It was a book entitled " The Return of Elizabeth Torny". My Mother has an acquaintance, Cornelia Du Plessis, who lives abroad and it had been sent to me by her son, Cesar. He knows of my love of literature and I was most touched by the thought. I doubt I shall read it though. There was a great deal of activity about the house in readiness for the arrival of the Tents. Their barouche drew up at dusk and we all gathered on the steps to greet them. I was pleased to see them even though Malcolm gave me such a slap on the back that I was quite winded and could scarce speak above a squeak for many minutes. Much of the talk at dinner was balls. Evelyn seems quite infatuated with them. She certainly seems to have a great deal of experience and described some magnificent ones. In the end I could not remain quiet at all this flaunting of balls and said that I did not think the size of a ball mattered or where and how it was held. I said that I had attended small yet perfectly enchanting balls. Malcolm, slapped me on the back again and said " Well said!""Thank you" I squeaked.
Dear Diary,The ladies of Cobbler's End, Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring, called for lunch today at Fanny's invitation in return for their recent hospitality. I had charged Mrs Crutchlow to be creative with cucumbers, aware of the ladies fondness for the cylindrical vegetable. She had prepared cucumber soup followed by stuffed cucumber wedges. While I enjoyed the soup, I did not partake of the stuffed cucumber wedges as they were stuffed with cream cheese and looked most unpleasant. The ladies seemed quite unmoved and did not comment upon our efforts. After the meal Fanny said, " My dear brother, may I trouble you to leave us now to gusset..." she flushed, "...I mean gossip, in private." I graciously retired to my room and contented myself with being my own best friend.
Dear Diary,Such a cold day. Walking to the Chapel I was caught in a sudden hailstorm and the leafless trees provided no shelter. How those tiny icy balls stung my face! In the Chapel I ran my fingers half heartedly over the Parson's organ for about half an hour and then wandered down to the pond. I took the old rowing boat out to the island and sat in solitude on an old tree stump and stared at the water. I don't know how long I had been sitting before I became aware of being observed but I suddenly felt eyes upon me and I looked up. On the far shore, staring back at me with an impassive gaze, was a creature that looked remarkably like... a wolf! Our eyes locked and we held each others gaze for some moments before it wearily lowered its head, lapped at the water and then wandered back into the trees. I cannot get its gaze out of my head and if I close my eyes, even now, I can see its own eyes staring into mine. It is strange but it feels almost like looking at oneself in a mirror as if it knew how I felt, and I, it. I have mentioned it to no one, nor shall I lest they think I am bonkers as I did the Parson.
Dear Diary,Yesterday, Father invited me on a shoot. I cannot say that I am enamoured of all that banging but I needed some air and amusement. Father wanted to take his Willie out too, to see how he could cope with all the banging. How the poor thing shrank down after the first shot. It does not bode well and I could see that Father was a little perturbed. It was almost time to return home when we heard a sudden flapping and a bird flew up from a bush close by. "Hold your fire! It is only a magpie" said Father, but a shot rang out and the bird plummeted down in flurry of black and white feathers. "Whoops!" I said. Today, has been much of a daze, since I heard at breakfast of the sudden death of Mr Ledger. A terrible loss indeed and so premature. I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed his company, over the past years, when I have been fortunate to see him. How fragile and fleeting life can be.
Dear Diary,This morning I ventured into Cobbler's Bottom and all seemed calm after the recent panic about the Parson's phantom wolf. Is it strange that there have been no further sightings and no further evidence of it's existence? Life in the village was back to it's usual dullness. There was no sign of Sam in the Smithy though giggling from somewhere in his house implied he was occupied with other matters. It had been raining since I had set off and now it began to rain quite heavily and so I sought shelter in the local hostelry and enjoyed a hot toddy or three. Some time later a local entered and announced the road out of the village to the north, and indeed my route home, was now flooded. " Never mind ,Mr Austen," said a voice " you are welcome to stay with me." It was Sam's 'bellow fellow' and as he looked down upon me, winking and smiling a toothy grin, he looked more equine than usual and I am afraid to say, of a similar odour. I graciously smiled, for I am a gentleman, and bid him good day. I was determined to return home and spurred Python on. The flood water was not that testing and I returned home in relative ease. As I entered the Grange, Father's Willie leapt up to greet me and dribbled all down my frock coat. My, how he has grown.
Dear Diary,Oh, where is the Sun? Such dull days do nothing for ones humour! I took some exercise and braved the Knob even though it had a white cap of low cloud. Up there the mist was quite thick and it is fortunate my feet are familiar with its treacherous roots. I must admit it became quite eerie as I went on and I had a growing feeling of being observed. My pace slowed and my senses became keener and my heartbeat thundered in my chest. I was almost at the top when suddenly I heard something rushing towards me through the trees and three deer blundered out of the mist in panic. The word that I uttered is not one that I normally emit during my regular social intercourse, though I have heard that some do, and yet in the circumstances I think it was appropriate. I returned to the Grange and sought out Mrs Crutchlow in the Scullery. " I fancy some crumpet, Mrs Crutchlow and something stiff to calm my nerves". I told her of the incident up on the Knob and retired to the Sitting Room to wait my refreshment. Ned brought it in a moment later saying " Mrs Crutchlow tells me you nearly had the horn today Mr Austen. Nasty". Sometimes I feel Ned gets a bit above his station!
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I was absorbed in my latest read which I completed late last night. It was a tale of pure love, a seemingly unrequited love, that did not waver over time and conquered in the end. I could not write after as my eyes were swimming and I needed the comfort of my pillow.
Today, a word I heard recently, 'cherish', has filled my head. I asked Fanny, on a stroll around the garden, what she understood by the word 'cherish'. She said that it 'implied great affection and holding something dear'. Mother said it 'implied a strong attachment' and Ned said " You can make lovely pies from them." If someone cherished your friendship does that not imply a desire to nurture and sustain it? I have heard nought from Mr Fairweather in recent weeks, not since my last missive expressing a desire to see him at his earliest convenience. I can only surmise he is wary of me now or has found other amusement closer at hand.
At dinner tonight, Father announced that our cousins, the Tents, are to visit us shortly. Fanny winced and Jane sighed but I think it will make for some distraction between now and my visit to London. It has been sometime since I have seen Malcolm and Evelyn Tent. I am sure we will find them most agreeable.
Dear Diary,I can hardly contain my excitement. I am shortly to London for a short stay. I have spent much of the day engaged in making arrangements and communicating to my dear friends in Town. It shall not be for a few weeks yet but I am fair moist in anticipation! How long must one wait, do you think, before deciding that magpies are consummate liars?
Dear Diary,By all accounts Cobbler's Bottom is in a state of, well, constipation. Nothing is going in or out. It seems they are all in a panic about the Parson's wolf. Of course it is all nonsense. I believe I read somewhere that wolves are extinct on this fair isle so I doubt one is roaming the Knob. The rumour now is that the Parson was attacked by the great beast and knocked into Old Collette's grave and Sam has emerged as a hero in frightening it off, a story he is loathe to deny as he is enjoying the adulation, especially from the ladies. How fickle men are! The only beast present at the graveside was that other fellow who gets his hands on Sam's bellows. By dinner the hysteria had spread with Titty bringing news that Farmer Clamp had taken great precautions to protect his livestock. He is taking no chances with his magnificent new cock and Titty says it is presently flapping freely about their house.
Dear Diary,A dark, dull and damp day and, I suppose, the appropriate weather for a funeral. No one made mention of it at breakfast and I doubt they were aware it was taking place at all. They were all busy with their own vapid lives. I walked down through the undressed wood, the bare branches seemingly shedding tears upon the ground as I passed. The Chapel bell summoned the mourners but none must have heeded it or cared for the Chapel was empty, except for the Parson, Sam, the comely blacksmith, his plain workmate and I. The service was very simple and, under the circumstances, rather rushed. We sang no hymn. The Parson spoke briefly about this woman I scarcely knew and, quite obviously, he scarcely knew and then Sam and the other fellow carried the simple coffin outside. It was raining lightly as we stood around the graveside that Sam and his unattractive friend had prepared. They did not seem to have much difficulty lowering the coffin into the ground and inappropriate thoughts entered my head such as ' what magnificent arms Sam has' and 'I wonder how much of Old Collette is left after being semi devoured'. The Parson spoke a few more words of parting and we all stood silently with our heads bowed as the rain made our faces run with false tears. Suddenly from the wood beyond the churchyard there came a horrendous howling sound. The Parson's head shot up and he shrieked with fright. As the sound came from behind where he was standing he involuntarily leapt forward. He tottered on the edge of the grave before falling forward into it with a further cry of horror. I rushed to his aid and held out a hand, but as he grasped it and pulled upon it in his panic to get out, he pulled me in on top of him. Luckily Sam and his crude companion were on hand to assist us. I pushed as they pulled the Parson out and then held out my hand to Sam. What a firm grip he had and he lifted me out with ease. I confess I might have held onto him for a moment longer than was necessary as I said " Tell me Sam, what do you know of magpies?" "Magpies!" snorted the Parson " I think we should be more concerned with wolves!" He staggered back to the Chapel and Sam started to laugh. I hope Old Collette will forgive us for the laugh was rather infectious and we stood beneath the weeping trees and the tears rolled down our faces.
Dear Diary,How strange! A missive arrived today for an unknown person but addressed at this place. I dare not open it for fear of finding intimate contents. The sender appears to be from Scotland, in a place known as Torphichen, but I have never heard of it. Who would have thought that someone so far north could communicate let alone write? Will wonders never cease? I have wracked my brains today to try and recall my acquaintance of any such Scottish fellows. I can only remember two. The first was a Donald Oswald Tobias-Scott. Indeed his name could be said to be longer than our acquaintance. He was a charming fellow who tarried, briefly, with my heart before departing for France on business. I have never heard of him since, though I had heard rumour of some involvement of a Les Cargot. The second was a sorry fellow whose name escapes me at the moment. After some amusing communication by post he arrived, only to state he believed he had the pox and I quickly bundled him back again from whence he had come. Is it not a wonder then , that I view such fellows with caution? However I am intrigued greatly as to whom the sender is and am hoping that some light may be shed upon this mystery.
Dear Diary,After Chapel this morning I spoke to the Parson and enquired about the arrangements for the Fairfax funeral this week. I was shocked to hear that no arrangements had been made. I directed the Parson to make all the necessary arrangements and made it clear that I would, anonymously, cover all costs. I enjoyed some brisk exercise after lunch and passed the remainder of the afternoon reading. As the light began to fade I began to feel the chill and noticed that the fire was dwindling and there was no fuel left. I noticed that Ned was passing outside so opened the window and enquired of him, " Ned, do you have wood?" "No, Mr Austen" he replied " It's just a hammer in my pocket."
Dear Diary,'One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret Never to be told.'....such is the well known rhyme related to the sighting of magpies. I do not pretend to be superstitious but whenever I see a magpie, and in general, it is often just a solitary bird, the rhyme comes back to me and I find myself wondering what misfortune might befall me. For sometime now I have contemplated a simple means of entrapment and then tying two magpies together thus increasing my chances of happiness and that of others. However, today, while out on a lengthy constitutional upon the Knob, I chanced upon four of the birds frolicking in a bush. I wait in anticipation.
Dear Diary,Cheese? I fail to be aroused by it. Oh the times I have encountered folk who eulogise about its flavour and aroma and I stare in disbelief. I dare to fear what further 'delights' these fellows will open their mouths for. I find myself thinking of the very first person who discovered cheese. What possessed him or her on finding some old and foul smelling milk containing glutinous lumps to lift one out and ingest it? It seems more often in recent times that I find myself backing out of The Scullery with my handkerchief over my nostrils after my olfactory organs have been assailed by a stench that puts me in mind, well, of little more than vomit. Mrs Crutchlow is ever keen to find new varieties and I fear she is experimenting herself with left over milk from the farm. Was it not bad enough that after what has seemed like the longest week since the dawn of time itself, and one of the most dismal of days as far as amusement is concerned, that I had to suffer cheese and biscuits in the parlour at lunch? I would never have imagined that it could get any worse and yet this very evening Doctor Proctor called with the news that Old Collette Fairfax was dead. It seems that she was found in the woods earlier this afternoon lying with a protective arm over her faggots and he believed she had been dead for at least two days. He did not go into details, and frankly I am grateful for my stomach was still delicate after my close proximity to the cheese, but horrifyingly, it seems some woodland creature had feasted upon her corpse. The Doctor said the Parson is convinced she was killed by the wolf he believes he saw. I retired to my room and felt quite numb. Could I have been the last living soul she encountered in her life? Were the last words she heard, mine, branding her a liar? To think I had bemoaned this day which Old Collette may have been happy to endure. What an end to a life! And what could have feasted upon her? Whatever it were I am in no doubt that they probably would also be partial to cheese!
Dear Diary,Forgive my melancholy of late. I am out of my fug and my pecker is up once more. The great gusts of wind in the night have blown the cobwebs clear away and I rose in better spirit. So much so that at breakfast I hugged my elder sister and said " I apologise if I was of irritation the other day 'Jean'." She smiled and playfully banged me on the head with her latest reading material, a book of some weight, and replied, "I apologise also for besmirching your horse. It was spiteful of me as you were right, 'Persuasion' is a much less wordy title for my novel". I had never thought it could be so, my own sister had dirtied my Python. How wrong I was to blame the old woman and to call her a liar. Still, if my fortune continues as in recent days I would scarce be surprised to encounter her sat upon my water closet or ratching in Mrs Crutchlow's larder and then I shall be able to apologise for my misapprehension. I asked of Jane the meaning of the word she smeared upon my horse's flank. I am a Gentleman and therefore cannot repeat it here, in fact the very thought of it made me quite ill. I asked where she was privee to such language and she said she had read very widely and that I should not be so small minded. I am relieved to inform you that I did not encounter the old woman in my water closet or the larder during the day and I confess I did look under my bed before retiring tonight. I know that may seem odd but there is room for an old woman and her faggots to hide under there.
Dear Diary,I am in a dark mood. Sometimes it comes upon me. Is it the weather or the darkness of the mornings and evenings at this time of year? Is it loneliness and a craving for affection? I am unhappy and yet I know I have much to be grateful for and compared to many, I am blessed. However I still wallow in self pity and gaze out at the dullness of the day. Am I the only one without a hand to hold? Am I the only one who has not laughed these past hours? I know the root of all this, if I am honest. It has nought to do with weather or darkness. I also know the cure for my ills but it is so far from my reach and I fear the distance between, widens. I am an incomplete puzzle and the final piece, having a mind of it's own, does not wish to complete me and runs and searches for a puzzle of it's own. In the darkness and solitude of last night I contemplated a complete and final disassociation if only to stem the ache I feel inside. I held my pillow so tightly and prayed for the comfort of sleep and my prayers were granted. I find ,today, my resolve has weakened and that is not because I am a weak man but more likely, no doubt, down to stupidity. It is not easy for a man to cut off one of his own limbs and I fear that is how it would seem. Today I still breathe and the ache has numbed slightly.I took some air, walking the woodland paths and encountered Old Collette Fairfax humping faggots homeward. How she has haunted me recently. I turned around to avoid confrontation but then my mood made me continue onward. I was not to be cowed by a frail old woman. As we met I spoke, " I deeply apologise Miss Fairfax for the dangerous encounter the other day but I feel it did not warrant your attack upon my horse and I trust that in future you mind my property." " Ah, niver touched yer 'orse" she spat back, " now leave me be!" "I believe you to be a liar and if I never see you again Miss Fairfax, " I replied, " it would be far too soon". The evening is wild and my casement is rattling. The sky weeps. I know how it feels.
Dear Diary,Bullocks! I threw back the curtain and found the garden full of bullocks. Farmer Clamp and Titty were trying to gather them up but oh, the mess they left behind! I dare not go out all day for fear of ruining my shoes. It seems something in the night had caused them to take flight and they had trampled a fence in their panic. Much of the lawn was pitted with hoof prints and Ned's magnificent erection was less erect than intended. I would have liked to have gone out and held it for him while he straightened it but remained in the Parlour and watched him banging away from the comfort of the chaise longue. It quite wore me out.
Dear Diary,After some hard riding, I returned late, yesterday eve, from Manchesterford. How big everything seems in the city. I made the acquaintance of a Mr Hilton and we lunched in some style before wandering to finger baubles and pretty things. I had a most amusing time and back at his rooms in Hulme I was plied with sugared fruits and other mouth-watering delights but I resisted the temptation to partake of them all. At breakfast this morning I noticed an unfamiliar face. Fanny reminded me that it was, indeed, my own sister Jane who has been closeted away these past weeks writing. I said " Tell me Joan, what has engaged you in recent times?". She looked up from her lightly poached egg and replied, " A novel, actually, entitled ' How to get someone to do something that they do not really want to do.'" I riposted with " Would 'Persuasion' be a little less wordy a title?". She rose, suddenly, tossed a buttered cob at me and swept out of the room. At Chapel this morning, the Parson gave an impassioned sermon entitled 'The Evil amongst us'. I doubt he was referring to Old Collette Fairfax but she stared most unnervingly at me throughout the service. Not one to be cowed so easily I bade her 'good day' on departure but she spat a word back that I could not decipher. I recoiled, not from the venom of her reply, but as any fellow would when in close proximity to someone who has had a boiled onion for breakfast. Outside, I was distressed to see that someone had daubed a number of letters in mud upon Python's flank. It appeared to be 'TWOT' but I know of no such word. I have my suspicions as to who the writer might be.
Dear Diary,I rose early and led Python into Cobbler's Bottom. I felt he needed another shoe. How cruel fate can be for when I arrived I discovered that the splendid Sam, he of the tousled hair and rippling flesh, was otherwise engaged and his replacement was less than satisfactory. By the looks of him he was more related to the beasts he has shod than any man I have known. I stood outside, in need of air, while he performed the task and returned home. I am to Manchesterford today for some amusement. May Fortune be kind. I shall return anon.Adieu.
Dear Diary,Snow! Everything was so clean and white when I looked out this morning. Ned was throwing snowballs at Titty as she was returning home after fetching the milk. It looked such fun and I quickly dressed and ran to join them. I had stepped less than three feet from the front door when I was hit full in the face by one of Ned's balls! Can you imagine? I returned indoors and still felt weak from the shock at dinner.
Dear Diary,This morning I took Python, my horse( I dare not tell you why he is named so), to the Blacksmith's in Cobbler's Bottom as he needed a new shoe. What a handsome fellow he is, with his tousled blonde hair and glistening chest. (I mean the Blacksmith, not Python.) How I gripped and fingered my crop as he set to work. Even Python showed some interest but I am sure the Blacksmith is used to it. Returning home I almost trampled Old Colette Fairfax as she hobbled across the road. She may be old and frail but her voice carries a long way when she is hurling insults. This afternoon, I watched as Ned and Mrs Crutchlow took down the festive frippery and I was of great help in pointing out their errors, much as I am able to do when they are engaged in other domestic chores that are beneath me. I am sure they are grateful of my interest. The rest of the day was much more relaxing for me. I noticed a few flurries of snow at one point and had the wherewithal to get Ned to fetch more logs just in case. All was quiet this evening, until suddenly Father's Willie leapt upright and there was a great banging upon the front door. For a moment I thought it was Old Colette Fairfax, who had hobbled all the way here to offer further vituperation and I busied my self looking for lost objects behind the chaise longue. However, it was the Parson, all breathless and sweating. What a fuss he made. It seems that he is adamant he has seen a wolf down in the woods. I remember a similar incident not so long ago when he thought he was being stalked by a rampant badger and that led only to tragedy. Mrs Crutchlow led him into the scullery to find something to give him comfort. When I entered a short while later for some hot milk, whatever she had given him for comfort he must have lost down her ample cleavage, for that is where he appeared to be looking.
Dear Diary,I awoke this morning, quite stiff and ill at ease with the world. I fear I tossed a great deal in the night and got little sleep. I was greeted at breakfast, by Mother who enquired if I had laid eyes upon her green handled letter opener. I said "You mean the jaded one? " "Yes" she replied, "I appear to have mislaid it". I had to admit I had not seen it but felt that it would be found in due course. A little later as Fanny and I were passing the scullery, on our way to duet upon the pianoforte, Mrs Crutchlow beckoned us closer and spoke conspiratorially, saying "Mr Austen, I appear to have mislaid a cucumber! It was to be cucumber sandwiches for lunch." Was the day to be filled with mystery and disappearances? I turned to enquire of Fanny if she had any knowledge but she had vanished also. Yet later still, Mrs Crutchlow, once again apprehended me and this time all but man handled me into the larder. She stood and pointed at a shelf and there upon it lay the cucumber and the green handled letter opener. Yes, the jaded one! At that moment, Ned entered from the garden and came to see what transfixed us so. "It was not there earlier" said Mrs Crutchlow. The cucumber was not whole and a large piece had been sliced off the end, and was missing. Ned spoke saying, "Look at all those strange 'snicks' down the side". I believe he meant 'nicks' but he made his point, for indeed there were many marks upon the cucumber's length as if an attempt had been made to roughen it's appearance. It was a mystery indeed and we could think of no explanation, but Mother was grateful to have her letter opener returned and we did have cucumber sandwiches for lunch. It was strange,though, that Fanny did not have any as they are her favourite but she was looking a little flushed.This afternoon, I ventured out to call upon some old friends, the Meadows, who are up from London and staying in a remote cottage for the festive season. We went for a brisk walk despite the inclement weather and it was delightful to catch up with them and their very little news. Huddled for shelter against the bitter wind, atop a grassy knoll, I contemplated the 'joys of friendship'. Here were some friends who I rarely see and yet whenever we are together it is as if I only saw them yesterday. Maybe if they had more tales of activity and interest it would feel longer than yesterday, but nevertheless, I remember shivering there upon that knoll, with the dampness seeping into my breeches, and thinking how blessed I am with my friends. Of course I thought of absent friends also and what they mean to me and a warm glow came over me. Well, I thought it was a warm glow but it in fact turned out to be a sheep urinating down my back from a rock above. Mrs Meadows squeaked "Oh, that's lucky!" How can it be lucky? What idiotic friends I have!
Dear Diary,Dull again! As far as I see it this year seems very much like the last. However, I did catch a respectable perch in the pond this morning and took it as a gift to the ladies at Cobbler's End. Fanny has been a frequent visitor but it was the first time I had been invited to tea. Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring are agreeable company indeed and I think I see why Fanny is so drawn to them. I have recently discovered that Miss Lott has a passion for the Parson's organ, much like my own whereas Miss Noring is much more a lady of the outdoors. (She does not ride side saddle!). I presented them with my fish and we settled down to tea. The conversation was a little stilted at first, mainly about the weather. I enquired if they liked fish and they glanced at each other and agreed they did. I informed them that Mrs Crutchlow had recommended lotion for crabs and wondered if it would be the same for fish. There was a moment's silence, until Miss Noring said they were very fond of cucumbers too, at which point Fanny spluttered most of her tea across the rug. They have a very cosy accommodation and they said I was at liberty to finger their knickknacks. There was such an array of ornaments upon the mantle including a small china monkey playing upon a pink oboe which they said was Meissen. I had never heard of it before but I must confess I was very much taken by this Meissen Monkey and thought it delightful. We shall have to invite them back to the Grange soon and I will have to enquire of Mrs Crutchlow if there is indeed something surprising which she can make for our guests from cucumbers.
