Monday 31st March 1808

Dear Diary,
If ever there were a day that promised the coming of spring, then today was it. On venturing out one could sense the joy and growth all around in the sun's warmth. I did not fully appreciate it until later in the day. This morning my mind was only upon the departure of the Countess. How strange that only a few days before I had bemoaned her visit and yet now I am sorry to see her go. Only you and I, however, know the true reason for my sorrow.
The time came swift and there was no chance to be alone with Emmanuel. We all gathered on the steps to wave them off after a great deal of further French kissing. Just as the party were about to leave Mother gasped, remembering Mrs Crutchlow had packed a picnic for their journey. I said I would go fetch it and dashed in as I heard my mother crying out to them,"Wait!" I found the basket in the scullery and picked it up and headed back into the hallway. I was crossing to the front door when Emmanuel burst in. He hurried up to me and taking my arm pulled me into the Library. He took the basket from me, placed it quickly upon a table and turning took my face in both his hands and kissed me. How warm his lips. How soft his kiss. How perfect the moment. He pulled back and looked at me. "Au revoir" he whispered then flashed that smile, grabbed the basket and was gone. Dazed, I followed him out and stood with the rest of the family to wave. I watched until I could see them no more and turned to find I stood alone on the steps. I did not go in. Instead I walked. I had no thoughts as to where I was going. I simply walked. I do not recall my route as I think back now but found myself, after a time, by the old hawthorn tree that I used to climb as a boy. It was a beautiful day and so I traced my childhood steps and climbed to my perch at the top. It was here that I fully appreciated the beauty of the day. I am not certain what I was feeling in my heart but I believe it was a kind of joy.
He had whispered "Au revoir", but I know I will never see him again.
Would that I could end this day's entry upon that poignant note, but sadly no. Not having the agility or slenderness of my youth it transpired that, in my descent, I received a large thorn to the left buttock which broke off and remained partly embedded in my fundament. Thus, this evening I have had to impose upon Ned the task of retrieving the source of my obvious discomfort at dinner. I cannot lie and say that I have not considered the moment when Ned and my buttocks became acquainted. Sadly, I did not imagine it thus.