Dear Diary,Such a glorious day that I could not remain indoors. I contemplated going outside disguised as a washer woman but decided against it perchance Willy Tert discovered me thus clad and I feel I have some way to go to improve my standing in his eyes. I found a secluded part of the garden, but well within earshot of others and settled down to read. Mrs Norris wandered past at one point but I feigned sleep, being careful to snore slightly so that she did not suspect that Death had taken me at last. I was reading an interesting piece about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse when Ned crept up behind me and took me unawares. I gasped."Ned, my nerves are in tatters as it is," I scolded. "Sorry, Mr Austen, sir, but I have been cogitating," he replied. I gasped again.Ned! That's marvellous! I congratulate you on your diction!" I enthused. He smiled proudly for a brief moment then resumed a serious face."Well," he went on, "All these recent events, the gifts, the window, Python, the visitor in the night, could all be someone bent upon revenge. I was wondering...Mr Austen have you 'spermed' anyone?"
Dear Diary,Having slept much of the day yesterday due to the previous nights events, I found myself wide awake again last night. I fear I am becoming a nocturnal creature, yet one that fears the dark, now, more so than in the past. I must have slept a little for I awoke late for breakfast. Jane and Willy had long since left for the school and Mrs Norris was already snoring in an alcove, her dribbling pug rising and falling upon her chest, with each breath. When the rider arrived I was enjoying a delicious piece of ham so remained in the parlour, masticating. I heard the mumbling of voices in the hallway for some minutes then noticed the fellow ride off as hastily as he came. Fanny entered, a moment later, with a solemn face."What news?" I asked, afearing it was for me."Mr Scrote is dead," she muttered.It seems he had been discovered yesterday morning abed, lying face down and as stiff as a board. When he was turned over they discovered a frightened and naked, serving wench trapped beneath him. " You see, " said Mrs Crutchlow, when she came to remove my plate, " Even Death can make mistakes. He obviously got the wrong address."
Dear Diary,How people will laugh, when I am gone, when they read these diaries. They will titter and chortle at the sad, dull and uneventful life I led in the last months before my untimely death. They will definately be astounded by the lack of balls. I ask you, what have I achieved? Yes, I helped Father find his Todger and returned the stolen silver to the Chapel but apart from that it has just been endless organ fingering, jaunts atop the Knob, rides upon Python and a great deal of misfortune at the hands of Mother Nature. Why so moribund? Well, I have not been sleeping well these past nights, tossing and turning for much of them, probably with more emphasis on the turning rather than the tossing, but that is of no consequence. Late last night I became aware of an irregular clattering at my window and surmised someone outside was throwing stones at my pane to attract my attention. I raised myself and cupping my hands around my eyes, peered out into the darkness. At first I could see nothing then slowly the moon emerged from behind a cloud and the shadow lifted and I beheld a hooded figure clad in a long dark cloak. I stopped breathing when I saw that in it's left hand it held a long handled scythe. To my horror, it raised it's right arm and from the darkness of it's sleeve a pale hand extended and it pointed straight at me. That is when I screamed. I flung myself upon by bed and I screamed like I had never screamed before, long and loud and piercing.Ned rushed in first, shirtless and in baggy long johns. Even in my terror I thought he looked marvellous. I pointed to the window and he looked out and shook his head. I jumped up to look myself, but the figure was gone. Father entered next then Fanny and Jane. Ned grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his magnificently sculpted chest. Willy Tert appeared at the door all wide eyed and runny nosed and Jane left, to put him back to bed. I explained what I had witnessed and we all gathered about the window to peer out. All was silent, then we heard a shuffling outside the door. We all turned, looked and held our breath. The door slowly swung open to reveal a dark figure in the passageway beyond. It stepped into the light and Ned dropped the pillow and grabbed me and we both screamed together.Mrs Norris with her hair in ringlets, and her bosom barely restrained by a cotton nightdress is enough to startle any man. So I felt no shame. Ned sat with me awhile after everyone else had gone back to bed. My heart was still racing though now it was not through fear. "Do you believe me when I tell you what I saw, Ned?" I asked."Of course," he lied.
Dear Diary,I left the sanctuary of my chamber at the Grange and bravely ventured to Netherton for lunch with the misses Forster and Dixon. I had never entered Miss Dixon's cosy abode previously but her Father was out, worrying sheep, and she was at liberty to entertain. Mrs Marrs was there, with the identical twins, Matthew and Abigail,( Oh my! how they have grown!) and Mr and Mrs Taylor arrived, a little later, looking somewhat flushed and dishevelled from obviously recent exertions. It was jolly company and merry intercourse amongst good friends is always a boon. Miss Dixon had been busy in the kitchen and brought out a 'special' pie for the adults and a 'shepherd's pie' for the twins. "Made with real shepherds," I joked, then noticed Miss Forster and Miss Dixon exchange an uncomfortable glance. Mr Taylor spoke up,"Oh Indeed Mr Austen, do not joke, for a shepherd, hereabouts, went missing this very week."Miss Dixon clapped her hands and laughed,"Oh come, come, enough of this morbid talk, my 'special pie' will be going cold!"It was certainly a hearty repast and we sat, replete, about the table afterwards and talked of this and that.When I felt it time to depart I rose and thanked Miss Dixon for her hospitality."That was one of the best chicken pies I have had in a long time." I winked."Oh no, Mr Austen," she smiled, "It was not chicken pie. It was crow pie."Suddenly, Mr Taylor leapt up and dashed out of the door before me. I remained much more composed as is my breeding, and waited till I was well out of sight. A gentleman should never regurgitate in public.
Dear Diary,I am wondering if I should become a nun and enter Ballbanger Abbey in disguise. The walls around it are high and I have seen those nuns when they are displeased. Armed, with a heavy church candle, I am sure they would afford me protection should the moment arise. I have spent much of the day practising 'Ave Maria' in the library and when Jane came home from school she discovered me in her chamber trying on her now redundant wimple. The look on her face was nothing compared to that on little Willy Tert's face as he peeped out from behind her. She quickly ushered him out before I could explain and though I have since had an opportunity to account for my actions to her, little Willy glanced nervously at me all through dinner as he wolfed down huge mouthfuls of Mrs Crutchlow's venison casserole. It seems his mother is quite ill and Jane has generously offered to care for him until her recovery. I have since abandoned my plan since Jane has told me of the sackcloth undergarments one is forced to wear and that the Sister's live mainly upon goat's cheese churned between dawn and their daily masses. I'll resign myself to death then. Oh woe is me!'Tis such a pity...I can be so dramatic...and could have made an accomplished thespian!
Dear Diary,I have scarcely slept. I fear I must have offended someone greatly but know not how. Surely the dead flowers, boxed rodent and now the attempted theft of my Python are signs that someone intends me ill. Maybe I should escape to Canada and resign myself to live amongst beaver. I wished to confide my fears to Fanny but she was called to Cobbler's End to help the ladies freshen their rugs. Thus I sought out Ned. He is decent and honest and though quite common, I do trust him. I found him occupied with a hand job in his shed. He put down his crevice tool as I entered and found a bucket and upturned it and motioned for me to sit upon it. I began to tell him of my suspicions about my recent unwelcome gifts being related to the mishandling of my Python, whilst he rooted about in one ear with his little finger. As I finished he cried out;"Oh my God!" I nearly fell off the bucket with shock. "What do you think that is?" He asked holding out his little finger with something dark and moist stuck on the end of it."Ned," I breathed, " have you heard a word I've said?""Indeed, Mr Austen," he replied, " I think you are right. The anus lies with you.""Onus" I sighed.
Dear Diary,The congregation at Chapel this morning was assailed by the voice of Mrs Norris. Indeed it is plain to see she has the housing for a good set of lungs and the voice that issues forth is much like a cat being beaten with a bassoon. The Parson looked quite startled and I think the omission of the third hymn was quite a deliberate act. To get some rest for my poor assaulted ears and to enjoy some peace, I walked ahead of the others, back to the Grange, when I was confronted by a red faced and flustered Titty Clamp. Since working in the Scullery with Mrs Crutchlow she has certainly grown into her role, quite literally and is no longer the delicate girl she once was. "Oh Mr Austen, come quick! There has been an unwelcome visitor to the Grange," she gasped."Who?" I enquired." We don't know, but they have broke the parlour window," she went on. I indicated for her to stay and inform my parents who were following on behind and I quickened my pace towards the Grange. Ned, was picking up some of the glass from below the window as I approached."Did you see who did this?" I asked him."No Mr Austen, we were in the back but we heard the stone come through." I surveyed the damage carefully and was aware that Ned was still staring at me intently as if he had more to say but did not know how to begin."What is it Ned? Is there more bad news?" He nodded curtly and bit his lip. "It's Python, Mr Austen. He's gone!"I don't know why I rushed to the stable as there was nothing to be done. His stall was empty but his scent was still in the air. I sank wearily to the floor and put my head in my hands and was just about to sob when I heard the clattering of hooves approaching and Python cantered back in, his eyes wide and nostrils flared. I stood and held up my hand and he whinnied and came forward to nuzzle it. I stroked his neck to calm him and spoke soothing words and lead him back into his stall. Whoever had tried to take him must have been cursing I know not what is afoot but I fear we have not heard the last of it.
Dear Diary,How fortunate I am to have my Python to clasp between my thighs. When all gets too much I am able to mount him and with a gentle flick of my crop he carries me far away. I do appreciate him so. Thus I ventured to Manchesterford. My esteemed friend, Mr Griffiths, had invited me to a music competition held in a vast hall in the suburb of Slagford. There were artistes from ten different countries performing songs and all was a spectacle of colour and sound. I got quite carried away at times and was given a horn to blow in encouragement. I was pleased that my favourite Toomas Jerker and The Stone Hard Boys, from some distant corner of Russia, won though I fear it was due more to their tight fitting garments than the quality of their warbling. It was a most pleasant distraction from my recent trials and as I got my lips around that horn all thoughts of Willie were momentarily forgotten.
Dear Diary,I awoke with a swollen gland and did not feel my self as I usually do in the morn. I had no appetite for the succulent sausage that Ned handed me, on a plate, at breakfast either. Mrs Norris seeks me out and probes me at every opportunity and appears determined to know my heart. This afternoon, whilst we were taking tea together, she sat before me resting her cup upon her bosom and fixed me with those eyes that seem to see right through me." Wayne, I know you are fond of Willie," she said."Were," I corrected and felt myself flush.Her attention is too intense and I am uncomfortable. I am to Manchesterford and to Mr Griffiths for some entertainment.
Dear Diary,We buried poor Willie yesterday in a quiet spot in the garden. Mrs Norris wept loudly clutching Winky, her living, breathing rodent of a pet which lapped at the tears running down her face. She is genuinely disraught at the mishap and has vowed never to wear the 'shoes' that killed him again, even though they cost several guineas. It is obvious it was less the 'shoes' and more the crushing weight of the woman that snatched him from us.Putting recriminations aside I enquired, of Mrs Norris, as to the health of Miss Honey Pott and how she fared after her recent, mysterious accident. Mrs Norris said that she had indeed recovered most splendidly though now refrained from riding alone. I asked if there were any clue to her attacker and Mrs Norris said that there was none and those who knew Miss Pott were aghast that anyone could be so offended by her. I nodded in agreement but did not inform her of my own unwelcome gifts in recent weeks. Thankfully whoever I have offended remains at a distance unlike Miss Pott's attacker.
Dear Diary,
Yesterday dawned with all the promise of splendid day; the sunshine, the bird song, the gentle lowing of cattle and then I heard a dreadful clatter and crying out and rushed out of my room to discover Father had tumbled down the stairs. He was lying quite motionless at the bottom and I rushed down to him as others came running out of the parlour. He looked so peaceful, almost as if he were sleeping. I bent down close to feel for breath upon my cheek when Mother appeared upon the landing, above to see what all the commotion was about and seeing us gathered about her unconscious husband let out a dreadful scream and promptly fainted. As she fell to the floor she banged her head upon a small table on the landing sending the vase upon it crashing to the the floor. The noise roused Father and he blinked open his eyes. Fanny rushed up the stairs to Mother's aid and our hearts leapt as she knelt beside her and let out an anguished cry. She had knelt upon a shard of the broken vase and badly cut her knee.
What a miserable scene was the breakfast table; Father looking pale and drawn and a little bruised but luckily in one piece, Mother holding a cold cloth to a nasty lump upon her head, and Fanny wincing as Jane tended the wound upon her knee. It was then that we heard the shout from the Scullery and Titty rushed in with tears in her eyes, crying "It's Mrs Crutchlow! Come quick! there has been a dreadful accident."
Later, that morning we all waited, anxiously, once again around the table and then Doctor Proctor entered with his head bowed. He approached the table and rested his hands upon it and slowly lifted his face fixing us with a grim stare. "The scalding is quite bad," he said, "but I am sure she will be kneading her baps happily in a few days." We all sighed with relief and I gazed out of the window at the glorious day outside, just in time to see Ned tumble past the window to the ground followed by the ladder he had been up cleaning the upstairs windows. We rushed outside and found him entangled and moaning in a rose bush. Luckily, he only had a few cuts and needed a number of thorns removing from sensitive and delicate parts.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident and just before dinner, we heard a barouche approaching up the driveway and we all walked, limped and staggered to the front door to see who it could be. It pulled up at the foot of the steps and Mrs Norris stood up and flung open her arms, crying "My Darlings, I have come!" The dogs barked and rushed down the steps and we all moved down after them to greet her as if summoned by her promised embrace. The coachman opened the door and held up his hand to assist her dismount. She gazed upon us over her expansive bosom and smiled as she stepped heavily down from the coach straight onto Father's Willie and with a sickening crack, broke his neck.
We mourn.
Dear Diary,
Tragedy!
There has been a death in the house.
I cannot bear to write more at the moment.
Dear Diary,I awoke with a start this morning to such a banging upon my door. I cannot remember the last time I was awakened so rudely but am sure it must have been by Farmer Clamp's cock. I flung on my robe and hastened to the door to open it and there stood a breathless Ned. I could not put my finger upon it, but there was something different about him."Mr Austen, we need to ejaculate the building," he spluttered, " The scullery is ablaze!"Thick smoke was already drifting into the hallway as we descended and rushed around the back of the house. Father was hurriedly filling a bucket whilst Mother stood by clasping her robe about her in embarrassment of being caught in her nightwear. Father rushed in the open scullery door and a loud hissing sound ensued and he tumbled out again spluttering. Ned had fetched more buckets and between us after some long minutes we managed to quell the flames. Poor Mrs Crutchlow surveyed her workplace as her tears washed pale pathways down her sooty face. Once the general mess was tidied up the damage was not as bad as it had first appeared. Whilst the mantle was badly charred the range remained intact and in full working order. There would need to be some concerted cleaning and redecoration but all was manageable. We all set to, for much of the day, even Mother came to help pointing out dirty marks that had been missed. When all was relatively put to rights we retired to rest and I noticed Ned escaping to his shed. It was then that it came to me, the difference in him was his clothing. He was wearing a new sleeveless jacket of a delicate mauve. I approached the shed and opened the door. He was sat in the gloomy interior with his back towards me, obviously working away with his hands. As the light spilled in he guiltily turned and gazed upon me with such a look of shame which I could not fathom. I spoke my mind anyway."Nice jerkin, Ned." I said with a smile.
Dear Diary,A joyous day without 'snuff'. An ordinary, dull and uneventful day of fingering the Parson's organ for the Chapel service, merry intercourse with Fanny and the playful teasing of Father's one eyed Willie whilst sat upon Ned's magnificent erection. What a boon I have found it to be and indeed it is fast becoming a place where I am content to sit, almost as welcome as my seat upon Cobbler's Knob.
Dear Diary,Nightmare in Netherpool!As you know, I am very fond of balls and thus when I became aware of a large ball being held in the open air, indeed, upon the shore at Netherpool, I girded my loins and grabbed my crop and rode hard astride Python to experience it. It was such a shame that, after the glorious weather bestowed upon us recently, the sky remained overcast. Yet I am a man of impulse and eager to live, so a few grey clouds did nought to dampen my ardour for merriment. I found my new Netherpool acquaintances and was introduced to some delightful ladies from Frottingham and all was set for an evening of dancing and exquisite social intercourse which one rarely finds up Cobbler's Bottom. The atmosphere was indeed intoxicating and the music stirring but some became more intoxicated than others and I fear not by their own intention. Events took a turn for the worst when we retired for some respite to an apartment in the town. I could not possibly regail you with the convoluted events thereafter but it involved 'snuff', a disappearance and thankful rediscovery and concluded with me escorting the ladies from Frottingham, astride Python, safely back to their lodgings in Neston before returning home far earlier than I intended. My life may be dull here at Thrushcock Grange and I may be a man of moderation and sense but a life with 'snuff' is no life at all and I rejoice in my dullness.
Dear Diary,All the day I have had nought upon my mind other than the 'erotic' surprise I had been promised. My mind had poured over endless scenarios and possibilities and so it is no surprise that late this afternoon I drove Python hastily on to arrive at a little early at the Forcett Inn. Misses Forster and Dixon had only arrived moments before me and were just being seated in the dining room. We greeted each other warmly and were catching up on all the gossip, when I noticed Miss Dixon look past me and her smile widen."Mr Austen, " she announced, " may I present Alonge Donge."I turned to find an enormous gentleman towering over me, in an ill fitting suit. He had the whitest smile I had ever seen and it was most certainly the blackest face."Alonge is from Africa, Mr Austen and he is our 'exotic' surprise." Miss Dixon clapped her hands gleefully and squealed with delight at the look of surprise upon my face. It was certainly not what I was expecting and I smiled whilst thinking of foul deeds to occupy Ned upon my return. Alonge was a most charming fellow and over dinner told dreadful tales of his life as a slave before it's abolition last year. Miss Dixon was keen to hear of the african birdlife and gasped at his description of a bird bigger than a man that could not fly but ran and laid eggs the size of dinner plates."Have you ever stuffed a bustard?" she asked, eagerly, at one point, but we never found out for at that moment Miss Forster began to choke upon some of the fish she was eating. It was indeed a pleasant evening and I learned a few african words. As the conversation began to die Alonge said;"Would you like to see my 'djembe'? "The ladies looked a little startled, but I was keen.
Dear Diary,Jane has found her calling. I have never seen her smile so at dinner. She chattered endlessly about her first day at the school. She seems particularly fond of Willy Tert, but then I know they share a common vocabulary."How are his vowels?" I enquired. Mother, put down her her cutlery, picked up her napkin, touched the corners of her mouth with it then fixed me with a disapproving stare." I will not have such talk in this house, especially at dinner!" She glared."Mother, I said 'vowels' not 'bowels'," I sighed. She glanced briefly at my Father in embarrassment then resumed eating.Tomorrow I am to dine with Misses Forster and Dixon. The invitation was not written down but came by word of mouth. A lad called with the news and Ned relayed the message to me. It seems they have an 'erotic' surprise for me and can hardly wait for me to come!
Dear Diary,We had an unexpected visit from the Parson today. Ned and I watched him cautiously approach the Grange from the parlour window. Ned spoke his thoughts."He used to visit here quite a lot didn't he? He was always eager to get his hands upon Mrs Crutchlow's muffins. Then, there was that day when he saw your Father's Todger and he fled back up his rectum.""Rectory, Ned." I corrected.After a few moments he was shown into the parlour and entered nervously, glancing all about him. Mother and my sisters came to greet him and we were all sat before the fireplace when Father entered holding his Todger. The Parson leapt up whimpering. Mother stood and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder;"Please do not take on so. Come let us stroke it together and you will see what a big softy it is."We sat transfixed as they both stepped forward, each an arm outstretched, towards the beast that Father was grasping tightly. Soon the Parson was laughing as he playfully patted it's head, his fear overcome at last.All seated once more he told us news from Cobbler's Bottom. Miss Quirrel had left the school as a consequence of recent events. I felt myself flush but do not think anyone noticed. "I am not surprised, " said Fanny. " I am sure she does not wish to be reminded of the dreadful attack.""On the contrary," said the Parson. " It seems that it was the attack that gave her the idea of setting up a new establishment in the city. She confessed she had never much cared for teaching and had always preferred the caning, so she is to Manchesterford to set up some kind of correctional institution.""Interesting." Father murmured, patting his one-eyed Willie that had found it's way onto his lap."But all that is of no consequence," continued the Parson, " what matters is the future of the school and the children therein." He turned to Jane. "Miss Austen, might you not help in our hour of need? You are indeed accomplished in the written word and am sure you would find great satisfaction in sharing your gift."Jane feigned to look as if his words had not flattered her, but Fanny nudged me and we both knew she would assent.The Parson left in a much jauntier manner than whence he came, nibbling upon one of Mrs Crutchlow's delicious buns.
Dear Diary,How unfortunate that I returned too late to attend Chapel this morning with the 'good' Christian people of Cobbler's Bottom. My trip to Netherpool did not disappoint. Life is all about new experiences and I felt I lived a little last night. I made some new acquaintances, well known in that place and they lead me on, though some might say, astray. Much of the evening was spent carousing in a dark and crowded basement where many were dressed in leather garments...well, when I say dressed, I mean that loosely, like some of the garments in fact. One generous fellow of heart and girth, leaned towards me and asked if I liked 'puppies'. I replied that I did indeed. He smiled and he handed me a small bottle which I was about to drink but he stayed my hand and indicated that it was for sniffing. How odd! I declined telling him I had very sensitive olfactory organs. I doubt he understood for he expressed a desire to handle them. I laughed and asked how could he get up my nasal orifices with such large hands. Worryingly, he seemed keen to try so I excused myself and went to the lavatory. On returning I entered the wrong door and found myself in what appeared to be a dark cupboard. I turned to exit and suddenly realised I was not alone for a number of hands reached out from the darkness to pull me back in. I managed to extricate myself with some dignity though I fear I may have seemed a little dishevelled and flushed on returning to my new friends. It was the early hours of the morning when I finally got out into the cool night air. One of my new acquaintances, a Mr Ribbleton, offered me shelter at his abode and we rode the short distance to Neston. What an accomodating fellow he was.
Dear Diary,Oh impulsive man that I am! I am at once to Netherpool for amusement and carousing therein. I cannot stay cooped up here a moment longer or I shall go mad...well, madder than I already am. I pray the parents in Netherpool are not for locking up their sons unlike those parents in Austria, who I hear, lock up their daughters!I shall return anon.
Dear Diary,I have been lying low and keeping my head down and remaining in the confines of the Grange. Fanny has done her best to plead my innocence up at Cobbler's Bottom but folk are quick to point a finger and reluctant to change their views. The weather has been delightful and I have been tempted to dust off my tackle and get my rod out down by the pond but have had to content me, playing solo, with my shuttlecock behind Ned's shed. At one point I misjudged a stroke and overshot the mark and my shuttlecock struck the shed. Ned emerged from where he had been whittling."Crikey, Mr Austen, you gave me a fright. Nearly slipped with my knife and 'emasturbated' myself!" He laughed." Ned, " I replied, "I'd like to help you with your diction sometime if you would allow me."He coloured, dropped his gaze and said;" Thank you sir, but I manage quite well with that on my own," and he slipped back inside.
Dear Diary,The weather has been glorious of late and soon after rising I have hastened out to take advantage of that unreliable orb that travels across the heavens each day. Yesterday, I had to push my way past a...(what is the collective noun for a group of nuns?)...let us say, a hymen of nuns gathered about the bottom step, all watching Jane wrestle with an Abbess upon the ground. I know not why nor care but nuns are not what they used to be if they utter phrases like "Throttle her with your wimple, Sister!"This morn I was making my escape for the day when Fanny called me back and asked if I had heard the news from Ned. "Are there more nuns mustering upon the horizon to attack?" I quiped."No," she replied "but do not venture into Cobbler's Bottom for I fear you may live to rue it."It seems that yesterday after her class had returned home Miss Quirrel was set upon by an unknown assailant. Her head was covered with a sack, she was bound over her desk and treated to a taste of her own cane. " How dreadful!" I gasped." Not really," said Fanny " by all accounts she was more concerned about the profanities written upon her blackboard...words, it seems, very similar to those uttered by you on a visit to the school. She believes you were behind it in response to her laying a hand upon you."I felt myself go quite pale and Fanny assisted me across the garden and I lowered myself carefully onto Ned's erection." I shall go with haste into Cobbler's Bottom," she continued "and I will vouch for your attendance here last night and quash this silly gossiping. Do not fret, brother. I will make it well."Am I not a most unfortunate fellow? Come angry Nuns! Put me out of my misery!
Dear Diary,I decided today to move into the room left vacant by my recently departed sister. It is much more comodious and commands a better view of the grounds and approach to Thrushcock Grange. It took some time to carry my precious and private things through and rearrange them about the room in a tidy and pleasing manner, not because they are great in number but mainly because Ned was weeding, half naked, below my window and when he bent over...well, let me just say, his trousers could have been better fitting. I was finally happy with the new arrangement, late this afternoon, when there was a tapping at the door of my new chamber. I quickly refastened my breeches and leapt away from the window saying "Enter," and in walked Jane."I have returned and shall require my room back," she smiled.I did not say it aloud but a voice in my head said "Bugger!"
Dear Diary,Crossing the hallway this morning, I heard a knock upon the door and went to answer. Ned came running too and we both opened it together. Standing below upon the step was a very handsome young fellow with tousled blonde hair spilling out from beneath his cap. He was slightly taken aback by the double welcome and suddenly remembering his cap, balanced the box of vegetables he was carrying upon one knee and whisked it off his head. He stood upright again, regained his composure and said;"Excuse me, but do you take deliveries around the back?"Before I could say anything Ned spoke up."Well, I don't, personally, but I think he might," he said, indicating towards me. I gave him such a withering look in return that the cheeky smile was gone from his face in an instant and he visibly shrank before me." Much as I would like to take you myself," I replied to the handsome lad with a smile, "I will leave it for our servant, Ned, here to do it. I must make preparations for a day of walking in the hills.""Ned, take him up the back passage!" I ordered and he did.
Dear Diary,I was quite the centre of attention at Chapel today. I noticed the furtive glances of many and whispered conversations ceased as I passed. How unfair is it, that after my efforts for good I should be portrayed in an unjustifiably bad light? Even the ladies from Cobbler's End were hesitant to converse with me after the service. I felt like a Martyr and only I knew why it was thus. Walking out of the Chapel grounds, I noticed Titty and her Father, Farmer Clamp deep in conversation. "Et tu, Titty?" I said as I passed. They both paused and looked at me, bemused."Pardon Mr Austen?" said Farmer Clamp, " We're just talking bullocks 'ere."
Dear Diary,My sister Jane has departed for the nunnery. She entered Ballbanger Abbey this very afternoon. We all attended to escort her thither and were gathering before the Grange, readying for departure when Ned drew our attention to someone striding up the lane towards us. It was a young lady and she was walking with purpose and no little determination in her stride. As she got nearer Ned suddenly turned to me, smiled and gave me one of those annoying winks he has developed of late and I began to wish I was elsewhere at that moment. I believe Fanny felt it too for she quickly climbed into the waiting Barouche and ducked down inside. Miss Quirrel, for it was she, marched onward towards us all standing before the house. I could now see her eyes and they were fixed upon me. She weaved past all the others, past Father and Mother, whose heads silently turned to follow her as she past and she finally stopped before me. The air was thick with expectation and I swear even the birds stopped trilling. She looked up at me and I opened my eyes wide and weakly smiled at her, then she slapped my face. At once the silence was broken and a chorus of gasps went up. Miss Quirrel turned on her heels and marched away with equal purpose and everyone turned to watch her go in disbelief. Fanny popped up. "Found it!" she cheerily declared holding up an invisible find. Thus, my non existent dalliance with the village School Teacher was very publicly over. I suppose I should be grateful. Maybe I should get me to a Monastery!
Dear Diary,I am just returned from Manchesterford. Knowing my fondness for thespians my parents indulged me by whisking me off to see a play by William Shakespeare as a belated birthday present. They would give no clues as to what we were journeying to see as they did not know themselves. I suspect we are only going because one of Father's acquaintances has expressed interest in it and he wants the upper hand. We arrived a little early and Mother went off to ascertain the title of the piece whilst Father and I enjoyed an ale. She returned moments later declaring;" It's Richard the Turd." Father spluttered ale all down the front of his jacket and looked at Mother in horror. On discovering the company all hailed from Dublin I understood the simple misinterpretation.I enjoyed the play immensely but how odd they spoke in yesteryear.Of course all the gossip of the moment, back home, is the mysterious return of the Chapel silver discovered back in it's rightful place by Flora Bunder. Happily suspicion is no longer laid upon the Dickers as they were vanished before it's return. The Parson is delighted and happy to be back in his pulpit and I must say I am happy to see him there too. I doubt I could have endured the cries of "It's a miwacle!" on Sunday had he not been recovered.
