Dear Diary,A sedentary day full of introspection. All the occupants of the Grange seemed purposeful and engaged yet I wandered aimlessly about the house and grounds looking for amusement and found none. Ned was away to visit Titty but on the pretence that he was assisting Farmer Clamp, at market, with his bullocks. I had no appetite for riding or walking and just allowed myself to become melancholic in my lonliness. I tortured myself with thoughts of Mr Fairweather and ruminated upon the reasons why I am still alone and blamed it all upon myself.It was nice to receive a letter from Dr Cojones who was making a great 'recobery' in 'Estoke on Trent' and who said he had been 'bisited upon by a bery attractive lady who asked many questions about you ,Wine.' He did not enlighten me further but because of my fug, I cared not.
Dear Diary,Today was Father's birthday. I contemplated presenting him with a small, carved wooden box that had come into my possession but thought better of it and wrote him a simple poem instead:Oh Father,Indeed, I would rather...like to hope and pray,that this very special day,is full of pleasant memoriesand hours filled with laughterand joy forever after...and now my poem's done.Your ever loving son.I found Ned and read it to him. "Pleasant mammaries?" He asked perplexed. He asked for it I'm afraid and I 'cocked a snook' at him!Chapel was just as dull as usual but I accidentally knelt upon Willy's foot and then shortly after dropped my hymnal upon his still throbbing tootsies whilst singing 'Fight the good fight'. He was unceremoniously led out by Jane, by the ear lobe, after blaspheming loudly. I slipped a note under his door this evening that if discovered by another should not be misconstrued, though I trust he will grasp it's meaning. It read:'You are a little 'bigger'!'
Dear Diary,It has been some time since I got my tackle out and handled my rod but this morning, upon Jane's request, I did just that. She asked me to take young Willy down to the pond for a piscatorial treat. Mrs Crutchlow provided us with a feast of bread, ham and cakes to take with us. Just as we were setting off Ned appeared and handed me a small, delicately carved wooden box."I just want to thank you, Mr Austen, for yesterday. I thought my end was nigh.""Indeed it was Ned," I quipped, "I have never been so close to your end," and indicating the box, continued "you shouldn't have, but I will treasure it.""Oh no," he replied, " that ain't a gift, it's just a box o'worms," and indeed it was. I was looking forward to spending sometime with young Willy but sadly he did not appear to relish his time with me. He was sullen and obtuse and the only sounds he made were deep sighs and grunts. I tried to be as charming and merry as one could and hoped the excitement of a catch might perk him up but nought was biting today and we returned home empty handed. I was in the parlour this evening after dinner and Jane entered with Willy."Go on," she urged him and he stepped forward and sheepishly handed me a note.It read: 'I thank you.......'I smiled at him and thanked him. Suddenly he smiled back, with the cheekiest grin. They left me alone and I looked at the note again. Jane had obviously worked wonders with his vowels but he had obviously over done the punctuation. I then realised those dots might mean something more and quickly turned the note over and found the end of his sentence. No wonder he'd had a cheeky grin and, it seemed Jane still had work to do. In full, the note read: 'I thank you.......are a prock!"
Dear Diary,I made a miraculous recovery and rose determined to see the end of this farce. Mr Wynde was ever present at every turn, throughout the day, smiling and waving at me from near and afar. Naturally, I was not wholly ignorant and conversed with him when I was forced too but always contrived to extricate myself upon the grounds of pressing business. In fact my only pressing business was to find Ned and I came to realise eventually that Ned did not wish to be found. No one had seen him since before breakfast nor knew of his whereabouts and I had almost surrendered myself to defeat in the hunt, late this afternoon, when I discovered him quite by chance.I had searched the grounds for signs of him and found none so sat to rest awhile beneath a large sycamore tree in the furthest corner of the garden. I was pondering my next move when I heard a magpie chatter in the branches above. How those birds mock me in my hours of desperation! I scowled and ignored it but when it chattered for the second time I picked up a stone from the ground nearby and stood and looked up in the branches...and there was Ned sat upon one of it's lowest branches, his legs dangling. He smiled cheerily and waved shyly but I saw him mouth the word 'bugger!'I smiled back and then in vexation, thrust the stone at him. He was as surprised as I was at the surety of my aim and ducked to dodge it, lost his balance and toppled backwards off the branch. I gasped as I saw him fall and then suddenly his plummet was halted and he found himself hanging upside down, his breeches caught upon some hidden protuberance from the branch upon which he had sat. I rushed forward and reaching up could just grasp his shoulders. "I'll go get help." I reassured him, but as I released my grip on him he dropped a little lower and he cried out; "No, keep hold, I'm slipping." Slowly at first and then with gathering momentum the branch stripped him of his breeches. Ned was crying "Oh! Oh! Oh!" ....at every inch he decended and I tried to hold him up as best I could but as he finally slipped out of his breeches completely, his weight was too much and we both fell to the floor.That is how Mr Wynde discovered us...Ned astride me with his head between my legs weeping with joy at his safe return to earth and I beneath him straddled by his naked thighs, panting heavily. It was certainly an end but not the one I had envisaged.Mr Wynde left shortly after. The fellow never even said 'Goodbye'. Can you believe that?
Dear Diary,I awoke and barely had the strength to face the day, so I remained abed and feigned illness. Mr Wynde called upon me after breakfast to see how I was faring but I begged him to keep away for fear he caught whatever it was that ailed me. I can produce a dramatic cough when needed and he backed out as I went into a false spasm, saying he would call again later this afternoon. "Wait," I spluttered, quite effectively,"When you return, knock four times before you enter so that I know it is only you." He smiled and nodded as he exited.Happy that I now would be pre-warned of his return I quite enjoyed the solitude of the day and found many ways to amuse myself in and out of bed. Betty Tert, supplied me with tea and when she brought some hot broth late in the afternoon I asked her to send up Ned. He attended me shortly thereafter and found me propped up in bed, reading. I put down my book and patted the mattress beside me. He sighed heavily, and began to lie down next to me."No, Ned, just sit! " I exclaimed. I asked him if he had seen anything of Mr Wynde during the day and by sudden coincedence at that moment there came four taps upon the door. The alarm that flashed upon my face on hearing those knocks was nothing to the alarm that flashed upon Ned's as I pulled him down on top of me in the bed. I wrapped my arms tightly around him and rocked back and forth and thankfully the words he was muttering were muffled in the pillow. The door swung open and I heard my Mother gasp."Ned! What ARE you doing!?" she demanded.I released him and he leapt to his feet. Words failed me but I wish they had failed Ned too."Wrestling, Mrs Austen," he gabbled, "I was pumping his handle and stretching his plums!"
Dear Diary, Not since I gave the world my 'Dick' in the merry story of Richard Whittington and his cat, have I had to draw upon my thespic talents. I was 'winsome and distracted' at breakfast as Mr Wynde passed me a buttered cob. Later he found me 'distracted and breathless' in the garden, as I gently fingered the grooves upon Ned's magnificent erection. After lunch he caught me 'embarrassed' inside a holly bush spying on a shirtless Ned engaged in woodmanship and a little while later I startled him as I emerged from Ned's shed 'laughing gaily' and 'looking flushed'.All was ready for the final act this evening after dinner. I stood by the parlour door peeping out into the hallway and saw Mr Wynde descending the stairs."He's coming!" I hissed and moved to face a nervous Ned standing before the mantlepiece."Embrace me, Ned." I breathed. He winced and wiped his palms upon his breeches and tentatively reached his arms out. The door creaked open and I grabbed him and pulled him tighter and buried my face into his shoulder."What are you doing?" said my Father.We both leapt back in horror and Ned uttered one of those words he is sometimes wont to do."Wrestling?" I offered weakily... then gathering my wits, slapped Ned manfully on the back and said"That is called 'The bear hug' Ned, and tomorrow I shall demonstrate the 'Pumphandle' hold and perhaps the 'Stretch Plum'."
Dear Diary,You find me still troubled by Wynde. Mr Wynde was somewhat taken aback by my revelation last night... as I was myself. I fear I may have gone too far this time. Mother discovered us in shock and with a generous smile invited Mr Wynde to stay saying, "Any acquaintance of Wayne's is most welcome at Thrushcock Grange." I forced a smile upon my lips but inside I was screaming.I hardly slept all night. Why is he still here? Why did he not depart in defeat? What if Mr Wynde takes my spurning as badly as Evelyn did? I shall need to watch my back until I have ascertained his motives.Fanny is most amused by the whole thing and smirked annoyingly across the table at breakfast. Jane could not care less and though polite, avoids Mr Wynde at all costs. He accosted me in the garden after breakfast. "To whom have you given your heart?" he enquired.Whom, indeed, I thought. "I cannot say." I did not lie. He regarded me silently for a few moments and then smiled. "I believe you are teasing me and I like you all the more for it. I shall woo you Mr Austen. Mark my words," and he strutted off swinging his cane.Ned caught me half-heartedly handling his chopper, deep in thought, by the wood pile."Need some help Mr Austen?" he grinned, and then... it came to me."Yes, Ned, " I grinned back, " I need your help."
Dear Diary,It seems there has been some misunderstanding on Ned's part over the jerkin. He tried to explain it to me this morning but could not quite get the words out he wanted to say. In the end I excused him and he left wearing my jerkin which suited him very well. The rest of the day was quiet. Much of the house has been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Terts, Betty and Willy, while others have cared not a jot.I have remained much of the day in my chamber, fingering and flicking through one of my favourite books 'How to cock a snook' by Hugh Jarse. I even had my dinner brought up rather than go down for it.When, this evening I heard the hasty approach of a carriage on the gravel outside I assumed that the Terts were finally here. I heard mutterings in the hallway and then the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs but was surprised when there was a bold knocking upon my door. I set down my book and arose to open the door. Imagine my surprise to open it and behold the beaming face of Gustav Wynde. I hardly had time to gasp in shock before he stepped forward slipped a hand around my waist, cupped my right buttock and pulled me towards him. Then with his lips almost touching mine he breathed:"Oh Wayne! Take me! I'm yours!"It is hard to say what was more overwhelming, the unusual brevity of his words or his onion breath. I swear I heard a magpie chattering in the twilight outside as I gently extricated myself from his grasp. I staggered back and my mind was racing and then dramatically, even to my own amazement, uttered the words;"You are too late! My heart is with another!"
Dear Diary,Alas, I should not have commented upon the dryness of the weather of late for it has done it's best to prove me wrong. Such a wet walk to and from Chapel. I hope I shall not have caught a chill. The Parson's sermon on charity was as dull as usual but must have made some impression upon me for after dinner I resolved to enter my closet and divest myself of unwanted attire. I was able to clear out a few unwanted garments, namely those knitted or bought by Mrs Norris. Believing that even the poor would have better taste than to wear them I took them to the stable for Father's Todger to nestle and dribble upon them. On returning indoors I bumped into Ned upon the stairs." Ned, do you remember recently when I complimented you on your jerkin?""Yes," he flushed as he visibly stiffened."Well, if you have a moment please come to my chamber. I would like you to try my jerkin and see if it pleases you. I am sure you will find it to your liking."Strange, that was some hours ago and he has yet still to come.
Dear Diary,Consternation at breakfast! It seems Titty will not be returning for the near future, such is her aunt's illness. I dared not look at Ned as the news was announced for fear he was 'wanking' in my direction. Mrs Crutchlow looked distraught but Jane stood up, purposefully and said "Leave it with me!"Fanny and I gaped open mouthed as she swept out. Surely she was not going to do the dishes herself?She returned after midday with the news that she had found a replacement, none other than little Willy's mother, Betty Tert, now recovered from her illness. Jane was beaming with the news. She has grown fond of Willy and to have him living under our roof for the foreseeable future has made her happier than I have seen for quite sometime. I just hope he grows to like me more. I am fond of Willy too.What a long day it has been! In fact it has been the longest day! Titter! Titter! How depressing to think the nights will now start to draw in.
Dear Diary,The weather has been dry of late and yet so cold for the time of year. Before setting out for a brisk jaunt upon the Knob, I was searching in the understairs cupboard for suitable headgear for such unseasonal weather. I found a handsome wide brimmed one and one that Father had made from a fox he shot a few years back. Ned was bustling up and down the cellar steps fetching and carrying for Mrs Crutchlow. I held them both out to him."Which should I wear, Ned?" I asked him as he emerged red faced from the cellar."Oh, I dunno, Mr Austen." He replied."I am so indecisive," I went on, "I cannot make up my mind." Ned disappeared back down the steps and Fanny emerged from the parlour followed by Miss Mona Lott and Miss Constance Noring, the ladies from Cobbler's End."We are off for a day in Blackdyke," they twittered."Wear the fox hat!" shouted Ned from down the cellar.The ladies coloured. Miss Lott gasped loudly before Fanny shouted back;"It's in Yorkshire, Ned."
Dear Diary,I have received an invitation to attend Mr Fairweather's Birthday Ball. He once again wrote of how he valued our friendship but understood if I were to decline. You are well aware of my love of balls, but an opportunity to attend Mr Fairweather's is something I have, greatly, longed for in the past.Such a wave of memory and emotion came over me upon receiving it and though I never mention it here, he is often upon my mind. I miss him so and fear my feelings for him will never be subdued no matter how far from sight or mind, I try to put him. I declined by return of post. Am I selfish? Am I a lesser person for being unable to bear the sight of him happy in another's arms? I wish I were able to accept only his friendship but I cannot. My head is willing but my heart is not. My heart wants all of him. I wish him happiness and I know he wishes it me. 'Tis such a pity it cannot be with each other.
Dear Diary,I greeted Mr Wynde with a fix-ed smile as he drew up in his gig this morning. I declined his offer to ride with him declaring my desire to travel by Python. It was a fair distance to the first property just outside the village of Nether Minge, a place I have never entered before nor hope to again. 'Minging House' was set in a paltry three acres and it's dusty rooms had a pervading feline odour that lingered in my nasal passages for some time after our departure. Mr Wynde needed little dissuasion and we journeyed on to Upper Nutley to view Hardon Hall. We were shown around by a fellow caressing a ferret. I must say it was commodious and Mr Wynde seemed quite taken with it. (The Hall, not the ferret.) The fellow with the ferret seemed quite taken aback when Mr Wynde asked to view the cellar. He ventured down alone and we could hear him banging and clattering around as I tried to make conversation with the 'ferret fellow'. I fear conversing with the ferret might have been easier. We stood in silence for a few moments listening to Mr Wynde exploring below, when my eyes were drawn to a movement in the fellows breeches. Something was stirring and moving in an upward fashion and I gasped when a head popped up over his belt....another ferret! It popped back in again and wriggled back down and I saw the fellow smile for the first time and his eyes rolled slightly up into his head in pleasure.Our final visit was to Netherwood Lodge, not five miles from Thrushcock Grange and as soon as Mr Wynde stepped out of his gig and looked up at it's ivy covered facade I knew he was smitten with it. The owners were charming and most welcoming. I busied myself in the garden whilst they toured the inside. After awhile he called me in. "Mr Austen, do you not feel at home here?" he asked excitedly."I fear I just saw a rat in the garden," I replied, helpfully," and look at those mole hills upon the lawn." I was quite pleased with my handiwork for I doubt a mole could have made a more effective job."Rats and moles can be dealt with readily," he beamed, "I think I have found my new home and so close to your own. I shall be able to call upon you and Jane almost everyday!"I took a deep breath and stepped forward, and slipping a hand around his waist reached down and cupped his right buttock and pulled him towards me. Then with my lips almost touching his, I breathed;"Oh, Gustav! I cannot tell you what that would mean to me."I have never seen a gig driven so fast down a country lane and nor, I suspect, had the owners of Netherwood Lodge. They looked stunned at his sudden departure. I shook my head sadly and nodded in the direction of the garden;"Did you know you had moles?" I mentioned , ruefully. "Sadly, Mr Wynde, has an abiding fear of moles since being savaged by one as a child."There was nothing fix-ed about the smile upon my face as I cantered home.
Dear Diary,For a brief moment today I wished that Evelyn had succeeded in tossing me off on the Knob. Jane passed me an epistle, with a wry smile, as she departed the breakfast table with Willy Tert. I read it and almost wept. I contemplated asking Ned to damage me with his chopper thus rendering me immobile for a few days but I do not like pain. It seems the dreary Gustav Wynde is in the vicinity tomorrow and begs my assistance. The epistle was very longwinded, just like the fellow himself, but in brief it seems the property he was purchasing is no longer available and he has some local viewings tomorrow and wishes me to accompany him and give my honest opinion of them. I suppose I must be grateful of the opportunity to dissuade him from buying locally.May God give me strength!....and the unerring power of persuasion.
Dear Diary,Such a shock! Whilst bending over to examine the progress of the Pentland Javelin that Ned and I planted some months back, Father's Todger mounted me from behind. It took my breath away and I came over all queer and had to return to my chamber for recuperation.
Dear Diary,Someone once wrote "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." Utter poppycock! It is a truth universally ignored, that a single man in possession of a good fortune might, in point of fact, not want a wife and be content to tend his Python and amuse himself by mounting a Knob whenever the fancy takes him. I trust they will place that in their pipe and inhale it!I awoke feeling gayer than I have of late. So much has occurred recently that I have not quite felt myself nor, if truth be told, had time to. I spend far too much time thinking about others and how they feel and so today I devoted much time to pleasing myself. I feel a great deal of satisfaction and it has done me good. My wrist aches though. I fear I must not whack my shuttlecock so heartily in future.
Dear Diary,It has been sometime since I have been awakened, rudely, by a cock. I sat erect and, for a brief moment, wondered where I was. The cock intruded once again upon my thoughts and then it came to me. It was an Effin cock. My Effin bed was so uncomfortable and I am weary due to lack of sleep and from having to maintain the lie about Evelyn's demise. I was glad when the time came to return home and tired of tedious familial intercourse sat up with the coachman and watched the countryside roll past. As we rolled up the lane to the Grange, Ned and Mrs Crutchlow, came out upon the steps to greet us. " The bags if you please Ned, " said Father, as he helped my sisters down, " and have Titty bring me some tea in the Library, Mrs Crutchlow."" I'm sorry, Sir, " she replied, "Titty's not here.""Not here?" Asked Mother, "Not ill again!""No, Madam," answered Mrs Crutchlow, "she has been called away urgently to attend an ailing aunt."Ned gave me a sly wink. I flashed a look of alarm at him and bristled with annoyance as I glanced about to see if it had been observed by another. Happily it had not.I was cosy in my own bedchamber this evening, grateful for the softness of my own mattress, when there was a quiet knock upon my door."Enter," I called out, and Ned popped his head in."Sorry, I 'wanked' at you earlier," he said."It's 'winked', " I sighed, "and you must be more careful or we shall be found out."He looked puzzled and left shaking his head, muttering;"Sink, sank, wink........winked!?"Heaven help his offspring, whatever it may be.
Dear Diary,Is it fitting that such a dramatic chapter of my life be concluded on such a portentous day? What does it bode for the chapter about to begin in the lives of Ned and Titty, I wonder?The Family rose early and made the solemn journey to Effin Hall, arriving mid afternoon. For much of the journey the sky was overcast and threatened rain but brightened as the afternoon passed. There was an extraordinary moment, in the early evening, as we walked behind the carriage conveying Evelyn's body, whereupon a shaft of sunlight suddenly pierced the clouds and illuminated the little, stone Church ahead.There were many more mourners inside than I had imagined and only a few empty pews remained at the back. St Hilda's was full of flowers and their scent was heady. Of course the service was led by 'Wevewand Spwout' who spoke of Evelyn's 'bwavewy in twying to wescue a fowiegn gentleman in distwess.' It was a beautiful service for one who did not deserve it. The singing, especially from the nuns in attendance was quite glorious. I turned to survey the congregation during one rousing hymn and caught the eye of Megan Bacon, who waved an acknowledgement and shook her head in sorrow. Looking past her, over her shoulder, I noticed a tall lady standing alone at the back. She was quite the most striking woman I have ever seen. She noticed my gaze and a smile touched her lips but then I turned away.The burial was happily more straightforward than the last one I attended at Cobbler's Bottom. The evening sky was turning pink, there was not a breath of a breeze and the birds chorused in the trees around the churchyard. Finally, she was laid to rest and the family and mourners headed back to the Hall for the wake. I lingered awhile by the graveside and looked up at that beautiful sky and was thankful to behold it. I picked up a clump of earth and dropped it into the grave. It landed upon the coffin and broke and a thick worm squirmed out of it. I looked up and the woman I had seen at the back during the service was observing me a little way off. She held my gaze for a brief moment and then turned and walked away.
Dear Diary,I was at the scene of yesterday's snubbing, once again admiring, but this time gently fingering, the curve of Ned's splendid butt when he suddenly popped his head around the corner of the shed and I guiltily snapped my hand back away from it. " Such fine workmanship," I blushed. I saw the smile upon his lips but it did not reach his eyes."Ned, what ails you?" I asked. He looked away and now blushed himself, shaking his head. "If I could be of assistance, know that I would," I went on. He lifted his head and held my gaze;"Titty is with child," he crumbled."With what child?" I asked, still unenlightened and then suddenly, as if I had been slapped, all became clear."Imagine the scandal upon this house, Mr Austen, " he whispered. I was."Who is aware of this?" I enquired after a moments silence. "Just Titty, me, Mrs Clamp and now you, but Mrs Crutchlow will suspect soon if not already.""We need a plan," I said, "and hastily." It came to me this afternoon and I discussed it with Ned. It will start tomorrow after the family has left for Effin Hall to attend Evelyn's funeral.
Dear Diary,I am most fatigued. Yesterday was quite hectic with the three departures of our recent guests. First, Dr Cojones bade us 'Au reboir,' and returned to 'Estoke on Trent' then Mrs Norris departed soon after, almost tossing her Winkie into the waiting barouche in her haste to be away. Mr McVay's departure was delayed and he left later in the afternoon as it took some time to hitch up his horses to his coach. It seems they were quite taken with our stables and were reluctant to leave it's confines.Today has been very quiet and most uneventful. The only news I can convey is that Titty was absent again this morning as she has not been feeling well in recent days. Mrs Crutchlow seemed much more relaxed now that Mr McVay was departed and when I thought I heard tom cats fighting in the scullery, after lunch, was disturbed to find it was actually Mrs Crutchlow singing. I could not name the song.In the garden, I encountered a pensive Ned, busy filling his watering can from the new water barrel."I like your butt, Ned, " I called as he walked away.He just ignored me.
Dear Diary,We had scarce waved off the Tents this morning when we noticed another coach approaching. It slowly came to a halt outside the Grange and the four steeds drawing it hung their heads in exhaustion. One of the coachmen dismounted and opened the door. We waited to see who our mystery guest could be but no one appeared. There was some muffled chatter and then the first coachman whistled and gestured for the second coachman to assist. The second fellow entered the coach on the far side and the first from our side. There was a strange rasping, wheezing sound and the coach began to rock wildly. Slowly the first coachman emerged from the interior, backwards, guiding the mystery occupant out. As soon as his face emerged I clapped my hands in joy! It was Mr McVay, my good friend from London! There was a slight distressing moment when his exit was delayed due to the narrow doorway and we had to send in Ned to assist the fellow behind to push a little harder, but soon he was out and clasping the hands of my family. "You have come in my hour of need!" I exclaimed, but he looked somewhat perplexed. In fact, he knew nought of my recent drama and was simply calling in whilst passing, on his cake tasting tour. He had been to Banbury and was on his way to Eccles and Dundee and hoped to end his journey in Battenburg. "Come!" I said. "You must sample Mrs Crutchlow's buns!"How happy I am to see him!
Mr McVay.You remember....It is he.
Dear Diary,A difficult day. The tents arrived mid morning and it was most difficult for me to face them knowing the truth of the recent tragic incident. We were all still embracing in the hallway when the cellar door opened and there stood Ned. We all turned at his appearance and he looked most uncomfortable to be intruding upon the family grief.He shuffled nervously and then stuttered;"My deepest cond...." I stopped breathing. " My biggest condoms......." he went on, and I put my hand up to stop him. "My heartfelt condiments to you on the death of your nun.....er, daughter." I shoved him back in the cellar and closed the door.They were introduced to Dr Cojones and he told them that their daughter was 'bery brabe' to try and 'sabe' him but tripped over her habit and tumbled over the edge. He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded gravely.I walked with Malcolm around the garden a little later. "Did she utter any final words?" he asked.I looked at him and nodded. "She was thinking of home," I said."What did she say?" He entreated."She said......'Oh! Effin Hall!' I think," I replied.
Dear Diary,Considering the shocking events of yesterday I feel guilty to admit, I slept quite well. For a few brief moments when I opened my eyes all was forgotten and then it came back to me as real as if I were seeing it again. Dr Cojones is confined to bed since his rescue. He has sustained some serious cuts and bruising but happily no bones appear broken. Mrs Norris is entertaining him with stories from the embroidery circle whilst he is bedridden so I am sure he will be keen to recover quickly. My Aunt, Uncle and Malcolm have been sent for and are no doubt journeying as I write. Evelyn's body has been taken to the Abbey to await the funeral arrangements. I was not aware Evelyn had entered the Abbey. Jane had known she was there for sometime but did not consider it worth mention. She said Evelyn's presence was one of the reasons she herself did not stay at the Abbey and I also discovered that Evelyn was the nun I had seen Jane wrestling to the ground."She was rather rude about you, brother, and the only personage allowed such liberty is I, " she said.I was able to spend some time with Dr Cojones in his chamber this afternoon. "Wine, I 'beliebe' your 'estory'. I am 'conbinced' that you are a good man, I am 'intuitibe'," he said patting my hand. I thanked him and told him of the hatred I had seen her eyes before she fell. "I must have hurt her greatly," I murmured."Wine, 'estop! Eshe' was an 'ebil bitch'!" He snorted, "but I think you 'eshould' discuss with your Father what you will 'esay' to her family. Perhaps you 'eshould' not 'rebeal' the whole truth."Thus, a story for the Tents has been decided to protect their name and standing. Only a few will know what Evelyn Tent was really like. In those eyes I saw the person who attacked Miss Honey Pott and Miss Quirrel believing them to be objects of my affection, stole my precious Python and sent the rat and dead flowers. It was Evelyn who masqueraded as Death that moonlit night. What was it that Bigas Cojones called her?Yes! She was an 'evil vitch'! Whatever a 'vitch' is!
Dear Diary,The day dawned bright, dry and full of promise. I was looking forward to acquainting Dr Cojones with the Knob I know so well. We set off mid morning and strolled easily up the path through the wood. How green everything was and how fresh, the scent."I 'perceibe' a 'espring' in your 'estep', Wine. I think we hab made bery good progress," observed the Dr. " I hab a 'esixth esense' and I feel that you 'eshould' fear no more. The 'ebil' has passed and you 'eshould' no longer feel 'bulnerable'."I smiled. "Yes, I feel it too. I think the storm has passed."We were both a little breathless as we reached the top and I lead him to where the view could be best admired. The ground dropped sharply away in front of us, over the rocky precipice, but afforded a magnificent view of the countryside stretching out below."A ' bery especial' place, but a little chilly," shivered Dr Cojones."Here," I offered, "take my coat, I am more accustomed to our climate." He thanked me and slipped it on."Excuse me Doctor," I went on, somewhat embarrassed," but I fear I have drunk too much apple juice at breakfast and am a little uncomfortable, if you would excuse me a moment....""Of course!" he chuckled and I left him staring out over the valley.I was behind the tree when I noticed the nun approaching and quickly ducked out of sight to avoid scandal. She passed quietly and I peered out from hiding to watch her move on. The Doctor was not aware of her arrival and she began to creep very carefully towards him. The sudden realisation that all was not right came too late, for at the same moment her foot snapped a dry twig and the Doctor alerted to the presence of another started to turn. In an instant she lunged forward, arms outstretched, and to my horror, pushed the Doctor over the edge. I heard him cry out " Oh, 'esshhiiiiiiiiiii'..........." before he was drowned out by her manic laughter. She pulled off her wimple and shook free her hair and I recognised her at once. It was Evelyn Tent, my cousin from Effin Hall.Still in shock I stepped out from behind the tree and cried out "Evelyn! What have you done?"She turned with a gasp and recognised me at once and the look upon her face will be etched in my mind forever. In her eyes, in that moment, I saw fear then hatred and ultimately despair. I watched as her eyes lowered from my face to my waist and then her eyes widened even more. I realised I had not made myself decent and was still exposed from unburdening my bladder. She gasped again and staggered backwards and lost her footing. Her arms began to circle wildly, as she slowly toppled backwards and then, in quiet resignation uttered her final words and disappeared over the edge. I stepped forward but my breeches fell down and tripped me to the ground. I staggered to my feet and hobbling and fastening reached the edge and peered over. I could not believe what I had just witnessed but as if to prove that all was not a dream, there, caught upon a branch about thirty feet below, fluttered Evelyn's wimple."Evelyn! Doctor!" I cried as I dropped to my knees and peered over the edge and then I heard it. From somewhere below, a voice I never thought I would hear again, croaked;"Wine? If I 'eber' mention my 'esixth esense' again, 'eslap' me!"
Dear Diary,I have been sleeping better since my conversations with Dr Cojones but this morning I awoke with a slight headache. The glorious weather of recent days was gone and the sky was overcast. As the day progressed the intensity of the ache in my head increased and the sky darkened with heavy clouds. "Wine, I 'beliebe' we should forego our walk today. I think there will be an 'estorm' and I do not wish to get my moustache wet," he whimpered. However, I glimpsed him in the garden later with Mrs Norris and noticed his moustache appeared slightly crooked when he re-entered the Grange sometime afterwards. Father had acquired theatre tickets for the evening. Dr Cojones and Mrs Norris accompanied us and we travelled by coach to Netherton. The ache in my head was almost blinding and I wished I was abed."I am a great lover of the Arts," declared Mrs Norris as we journeyed."Hab you eber considered performing upon the 'estage' yourself?" cooed Bigas.I doubted it would be able to take the weight but remained taciturn. Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder which startled us all. The rain poured down for the rest of the journey to Netherton as the storm broke around us. The play was dull and Dr Cojones fell asleep in the second act despite the thunder outside which drowned out some of the speeches. He slowly slipped down in his seat until his head came to rest upon Mrs Norris's shoulder. Seeing her discomfort and attempts to shuffle him off were far more entertaining than the thespians treading the boards. We emerged to a starry sky. The clouds had lifted and I noticed my headache was gone. I was smiling for the first time in many days as we journeyed home. I felt as if all danger had past and all would now be well.
Dear Diary,Such glorious weather that after breakfast Dr Cojones suggested we continue our 'conbersation' in the 'eshade' in the garden. "This is a 'espectacular' creation," he enthused about Ned's erection, "and 'esuch' magnificent biews of the garden." He asked about my acquaintances and listened intently as I talked of my few dear friends. When I finished he stared at me in silence for a few moments and then breathed;"Hab you eber had any lubbers?" I shuffled uncomfortably upon the seat, and pondered carefully my next utterances but luckily at that moment Mrs Norris emerged from round a corner of the house and Dr Cojones fixed his gaze upon her. He sighed and looked wistful, then breathed;"Do you beliebe in lube, Wine?" I was about to say that indeed, 'lube' is very important to me and something I desired greatly but was scarce in these parts, when he sighed again, saying "Eshe is a bision."Ned walked past and said "D'you see that pair of great tits, Mr Austen?" I waved him past hurriedly and then found my eyes drawn to the snug fit of his breeches as he walked away.I jumped as Dr Cojones clapped his hands and cried, "Tomorrow, we walk! I hab heard there is a esplendid biew up on that hill," and he pointed towards 'my' Knob.As we walked back to the house, he leaned close, "Tell me Wine, what is the lady's name?""Mary," I replied, "Mary Norris."
The 'Birgin Mary.'For it is she.
Dear Diary,I am trapped. I awoke resigned to the fact that I would be unable to avoid Bigas Cojones all of the day, so eventually I allowed myself to be led like a lamb into the library for the inevitable probing. "Wine, do not be escared, I come to help you. I hab helped many especial peoples. Is bery inportant you feel confortable with me. Si?" I could only nod. "I tell you about myself..." and he did, for about an hour but all I can recall now is; he is from 'a billage called Billanubla' outside 'Balladolid' in 'Espana', his father made 'espicy esausages' but he does not like 'espicy things' as they make him 'bomit bery, bery badly!' He has 'trabelled all ober Europe' and 'Libed in Bienna ( bery beautiful), Bratislaba (bery poor peoples and mass starbation) and Estoke on Trent' . In return I was required to talk about myself but after only a few minutes he yawned and said,"We hab a short interbal now, and esome of esenora Crutchlow's cack."In the afternoon he enquired if there had been any 'biolent incidents' in my life, about my 'relationeships' with my family and finally we discussed who might be 'eseeking rebenge' upon me. I must confess it was most refreshing to discuss these matters. Finally, he looked at me with his sparkling eyes and pressed his fingertips together and I awaited his summation. "Wine," he said, " tell me about that woman with the bery, bery big esmile and the leetle estartled dog? You think she is birgin?"I blinked."Unequibocally!" I replied.
Dear Diary,The general furtiveness about the house has continued all day. Everyone has been most attentive to me and appear to be smiling far more than is the norm around here, apart from Ned, who is most distracted and constantly frowning of late. Mrs Norris leapt up off the Chaise longue, which rests in the bay window in the parlour and insisted I rest upon it this afternoon. All became clear earlier this evening when I heard a horse approach and everyone began to bustle about. Mrs Norris rearranged the lace at her breast and Fanny brushed pussy hairs from her lap and Mother rushed out to the door. She returned shortly afterwards followed by a dark haired gentlemen with bright twinkling eyes and a curved moustache. He bowed so dramatically, that I almost began to clap. My Mother introduced him. "Wayne, this is Dr Vigas Cojones.""Bigas," said the man."Bigas Cojones?" Mother questioned."Si, Bigas. Is espelt wis a 'b'," he made a 'v' shape with two fingers, "but is pronounced wis a 'b'," He smiled, and we all smiled back as if he was making sense."Good ebening, Wine, is bery nice to meet you" he addressed me.Mother went on. "Wayne dear, your Father and I have been very worried about you in recent days," everyone in the room was nodding in unison, "and we thought it might be useful to talk to someone about it. Your Father has heard favourable reports of Vig......Big.....Dr Cojones, and he is going to be staying with us for a few days."Everyone was looking at me expectantly and I realised they all thought I was going mad. I considered briefly, affecting a twitch in my left eye and possibly drooling, but just smiled and stepped forward and held out my hand."Very nice to meet you," I said."Bale, bale, bueno," he beamed, " is eso nice to be here and you hab a bery nice house and a bery lubing family, Wine. Tomorrow we while get to know each uzzer but now I must unpack. Oh! Estop! Bigas, 'ow could you forget? I habe brought a leetle gift for you." He rummaged about in a large bag and brought out a round package and handed it to me."Ees Cheese, a bery especial cheese, you like?" his eyes twinkled."Is lubberly," I lied.
Dear Diary,Ned has got me thinking...have I spurned someone? I cannot think who. I felt all eyes upon me at Chapel this morning but whenever I looked up, they had turned away.Everyone seems to be whispering here, Mother and Father in the hallway, Fanny and Jane, Titty and Ned, even Mrs Norris and that beast at her breast. All stop and look up as soon as I pass and smile as if nothing is amiss. I jump at the slightest noise and just cannot settle in one place for very long. What is to become of me?
