Friday 1st August 1808

Dear Diary,
I am filled with sorrow and an unfamiliar sense of loss.
Danielle St Amour departed this morning. I cannot blame her, for all at Thrushcock Grange are somewhat distracted at the moment and she felt her presence, an unwelcome intrusuion. She was content to see me safe and well after my heavy handling by Frau Gimpel and said she would be delighted to correspond with me further and perhaps call upon me again at a more opportune time.
She held out her hand;
"Goodbye, for now, Mr Austen," she breathed and our hands lingered together for a moment longer than necessary. Her thin lips curled up in a shy smile and her cheeks began to flush before she turned her head away from me and stepped out to her carriage.
I confess that as we stood in the rain at the churchyard this afternoon and Betty Tert was lowered into the ground my thoughts were not with the deceased but with another. I was startled from my reverie when I felt her take my hand again and I looked down and saw that it was Willy. His little hand had reached up and grasped mine as he looked straight ahead. He was fighting his emotions, his bottom lip quivering and his face streaming with both rain and tears. I held his hand and squeezed it gently and conveyed to him all the strength I could to endure that moment.