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.
