Friday, 1 April 1870

Tomorrow we'll be leaving the country house, going to Town for the Season.

The girls are excited ,of course, especially Emmeline, this being her year to come out.. Elizabeth is jealous and excited all at once, not surprising.
In the five years I've been with the Mertons, the change of residence has not once gone smoothly. Always someone's most important trunk left back, some indisposition, once even an overturned wagon!

So far, this change has been alright. The girls are trying to be very grown-up, and I have only to obliquely suggest that they are being childish and they mend. I doubt that tactic will always be efficacious, but I'll use it while I may.

As for my own preparations, I have packed my clothing and all, and have just finished preparing my field notes from this fall and winter, that I may bring them to town to complete my papers.

Oh, how I miss Spring and Summer in the countryside! The joy of cataloging a blooming meadow, doing a bit of sketching in the sun.

Still, Town has some advantages. On merit of being Mr. Peter Sinclair's secretary, I have arranged several visits, and I am looking forward to some work in the Naturalist''s Society Library. I intend to take full advantage of these connexions.

It is now coming on 3 o'clock this morning. I will simply have to try again to sleep, and at least rest my body, though my mind will likely continue awake.

Saturday, 2 April, 1870

Today we made our journey back to the Merton's house in Town.

As always, the carriage journey was tiresome, with the girls' continual complaints. I was able to amuse them by reading aloud for a short time, but most of the roads are too rough.

Once we arrived, we had only to unpack and settle in. The girls are tired and already abed. I should have some time now to devote to section 4.

Sunday, 3 April, 1870

Services today were dreadful, made more so by having to continually hush the girls. They are, naturally, more concerned with seeing who else is in town, how they've changed since last season, where that Miss Polly Farris got that ridiculous frock and so on, than they ever could be about a supposed immortal soul.

We went for a sedate stroll in the afternoon, and I conversed with them only in French. This being the sabbath, I can't very well insist on lessons, but no one here frowns' on modest conversation. I have to do something to keep their minds occupied, and to keep them out of mischief.

Tomorrow is my Day, and I plan to call on Mr Clive St John, to review his material on bees in the North of France; I think it may have some bearing on my recent work. Pollination adaptations in various creatures have remarkable parallels, I find.

Monday, 4 April, 1870

Today has been full of peculiar meetings and events. So much has occurred, all of it unclear and confusing. Little wonder I am awake with all this strangeness whirling about my head. In the hope on finding some clarity in all of it, I will set it down here as best I can, as it occurred...

Today being my Day, I set out immediately after breakfast to pay my calls.

I arrived at the appointed hour of 10:00. What an awkward situation! I discovered upon my arrival at the St, John residence that Mr. St John had died during the night. The belief is that he died of unexpected heart failure.

I noticed, while waiting in their parlour, that I could smell mandrake blossom. This is not a typical fragrance to find in a parlour. I found a letter on the desk, written in foreign script. I surreptitiously copied the message. I also spotted some outgoing post addressed to Sir Cosmo Cowperthwaite, the noted inventor.

Mrs. St. John, understandably, declined to see me, but suggested that I visit Mr. Silas Scuddamore, who has been working with Mr. St. John.

As I left the St. John home, the mortician's carriage was arriving. the usual somber fellows emerged, and were moving the empty casket into the house to be filled. Oddly, one of the men paused and spoke to someone inside the wagon. I couldn't make out her words, but the man replied "I'll put the amulet where the lady will find it," or something to that effect. It seemed quite sinister, and I felt worried for Mrs' St. John's safety.

I contrived to bump into the men, trying to see into the carriage, and I even made pretext to go back into the house to look for the man or the amulet. No success. I noted the name of Graham & Sons on the wagon and determined to discover the identity and purpose of the woman in the carriage.

At 11:30, I called on Mr. Scuddamore. He seemed a dear fellow, and very learned. I confess that I looked about suspiciously for any trace of Mandrake, but I found nothing.

Next, I called on Sir Cosmo. We had corresponded somewhat in the past, so I boldly went with no appointment. I arrived shortly after 1:00. He was already entertaining one lady,, a Victoria Whitnell, in the company of the latter's companion.

Miss Whitnell was notable for her mourning costume of fine cut, I thought her a widow at first. She was unfolding quite a tale! She had returned from India recently. Upon the death of her father (a scientist in Chemistry,), she had been sorting his effects. She discovered an unnerving letter from a Mr. Lionel Milford (also a scientist), warning of an uncertain danger. She went to see Mr. Milford this very morning, only to learn that he had been murdered during the night!

This seemed a very uncanny coincidence to me, and I determined to confide my worries about Mr. St. John.

Here I set down the fact as I know them:
1) Mr Phillip Whitnell, specialist in Chemistry, d. early this February of stroke.
2) Mr. Clive St. John, a Naturalist and Botanist, d 4 April, apparent heart failure
-probably induced by mandrake poison
-suspicious letter written in (I have now learned) cuneiform
-possible involvement of Graham & Sons morticians
3) Mr. Lionel Milford, specialist in chemistry,, particularly explosives, d 3-4 April, murdered by means of an explosive.

I find the collection of the deaths suggestive. Are these all murders? Are scientists being killed each with a method related to his studies?

Sir Cosmo has offered an hypothesis based on the fact that all these scientists were at some time past involved in some secret project together, which could mean that he is also a target. But why would Mrs' St John also be at risk (as I believe she is)?

I described my morning to Miss Whitnell and Sir Cosmo, and they helped me identify the cuneiform writing in my copied message.

During the telling of these tales, two additional persons came into the house:
First, Sir Cosmo's assistant, a charming (if perhaps a bit vague), hindoo-looking girl called Namaste.

Second, an entirely unkempt child called Edward. This boy of about 8 years struck me immediately as having no civilisation whatsoever. His manners and language were shocking, especially in the atmosphere of education in Sir Cosmo's company. I was given to know that this strange child had recently been taken in from an entirely unsheltered existence in the worst streets of the Town. Imagine my surprise to learn that this creature is a prodigy, a mechanical inventor of some brilliance.

If all his life of want and struggle couldn't crush this boy, imagine what he can be like if given the advantages of guidance along with food and shelter. He is quite good natured, though dreadfully boisterous.

We mutually agreed that further investigation was warranted. Sir Cosmo went to call on Mrs. St. John, to offer condolences and look for the amulet or any other threat.

The rest of the group, including myself, went to the Mortuary of Graham &Sons. Miss Whitnell and Miss Namaste went directly to the mortuary on the pretext of planning a grave marker for her parents. Meanwhile, I went 'round the block, ostensibly shopping, but really looking for a back entrance to the Mortuary.

I stopped at "Madam Zephyrine's", a shop of antique ornaments. I smelled a familiar perfume. Madame Zephyrine proved to be almost a caricature of a spiritualist, positively clanking with amulets, waving about airily, and exaggerating her accent to seem exotic.

Her shop is, in fact, directly behind the mortuary, and the two establishments can communicate through a window which appears to be a mirror on Mme Z's side. (I caught only a flicker of light from it, but it was later confirmed by my allies spying out the Mortuary).

While I was there, Mme Z was running the beads of an odd necklace through her fingers. The beads had cuneiform writing on them. Although the shop gave me the sense of a sham, I also felt that Mme Z truly believes in the spiritualist nonsense she was spouting.

I had entered the shop by pretending interest in a particular (hideous) figuring. I was obliged to leave my card to avoid rousing suspicion, though I have some trepidation about that.

After reconvening with the rest at the carriage (a very odd horseless clockwork machine, noisy and not very pleasant to ride), we compared notes.

The most formidable agent of our party turned out to be Miss Namaste, who attracted a young man of the firm and learned much from him. To summarise:
1) the Mortuary has some business arrangement with Mme Z.
2) the retrieval of Mr. St. John's body was carried out by "Jacques" instead of the usual group of younger Graham sons.
3) the mirror/window was confirmed, spotted through a doorway into a back storeroom.

We have reason to suspect an unsavory source of some of Mme Z's wares...stolen grave goods? And Mme Z., with her excessive incense and her interest in cuneiform, is most likely the source of the mandrake-laden letters. But we are no closer to understanding the reason for the murders.

When we returned to Sir Cosmo's residence, late in the afternoon,, we learned that Sir Cosmo had, indeed, been admitted to see Mrs. St.John, and had found the "amulet," a locket containing more mandrake and further obscure inscriptions. He retrieved it discreetly.

I also had the pleasure of meeting a Mr. Frazer, a clerk for the Metropolitan Police, who came to discuss the Milford case. Imagine my surprise when her recognised my name in connexion with Peter Sinclair's work! His Grandparents are none other than Dr. and Mrs Walgrove, authors of "Reproduction in the Lichens of the Chuk-chi Steppes". He is conversant in their works and was familiar with all of the Sinclair essays to date! How flattering to think that "An Illustrated survey of Bee Species of Somersetshire" could be discussed in the same conversation as the Walgroves' works!

He had come to tell Miss Whitnell of a development in the Milford case, namely, that it wasn't Lionel Milford who had died at all! Rather , it was his brother, Arthur. Now all is in question, as we don't know if Mr Arthur was the intended target or if the killer also misidentified him.

The entire party escorted me back to the Mertons', letting me off at a modest distance away to avoid drawing attention to our new-formed alliance.
The rest of the group planned to accompany Miss Namaste (discreetly) to a rendezvous with the young man from the Mortuary (who is apparently quite naive and innocent to the questionable doings of his elders). I shall perhaps learn more tomorrow.

Tonight's supper was a fine-looking ham, alas entirely inedible to me. I'm left uneasy in mind and body, and sleep eludes me.

I almost drifted off for a bit, but a dream of that horrid Mme Z. roused me. There's nothing for it but to work on Section 5 of my moth project until I am ready to sleep again.

Tuesday, 5 April, 1870
9:00 am
I am having tea and a small bun in my room this morning, still unquiet in my stomach from supper.

I'll be taking the girls out today. We'll be shopping for trimming for Emmeline's new ball gown. Of course, I'll have to fuss over Lizzy also, or she'll pout and sulk.

Reading over last night's entry, I wonder at myself. I am wondering if my dealings with Sir Cosmo and his friends is entirely wise. They are all very peculiar people, and I'm sure the Mertons would not want their governess to have anything to do with them. In case the whole business weren't bizarre enough, last night the boy Edward came clambering up the side of my house, right to my window, to deliver a note. The others were below in the street. They had apparently had some strange dreams, and wanted to make sure I was safe. As if dreams are cause for alarm! Well, I suppose I must be glad they didn't pound on the door and wake the house. That would surely cost my position.

9:30
What should appear in the post, addressed to my self, but a cream colored envelope reeking of Mandrake. I instructed the butler to wash his hands thoroughly, and to tell any who touched it to do likewise.

I'm sending to Sir Cosmo to tell him of it. I will give sir Cosmo my itinerary for the day, and hope that one of my odd allies will be able to find me,

8:00 pm
Well, this evening finds me in an entirely new situation.

I will be leaving the Mertons' service under an undeserved cloud of scandal, and have been taken up at once into Her Majesty's service instead.

After a busy day of shopping with the girls, we returned to the house in the carriage. WE disembarked and mounted the front steps. I opened the door to find Walters entirely unconscious on the floor of the hall. I could smell a heavy incense aroma. I knew at once that Mme Z. was at work here. I turned to tell the girls to run outside and find the coachman and get the Police, only to find myself face-to-face with Jacques and a revolver. He was uncommonly silent! He instructed me to enter the house. Well, that would never do! Once out of public view, he could do as he pleased and who would prevent it? I couldn't let him get control of the girls or all would be lost for all of us.

I grabbed the card tray from the hall table, held it before me (between my self and the gun), and lunged forward, hoping to disarm him. I shouted to the girls to run and get the coachman. The silly things ran inside , through the reeking house, but it couldn't be helped.

That wretched Jacques shot my hat! I was just grazed. I was, fortunately, too angry to be afraid. Just as I was beginning to think, who should appear but Sir Cosmo and his company in the clockwork carriage.

I can't quite be sure what happened, but Jacques was overcome. The front hall was on fire, I tried to drag Walters out, but then left him to my allies and ran through the house to find the girls. Miss Whitnell was alongside me, and helped drag one of the kitchenmaids (also unconscious) outside. I grabbed a frying pan as I left the kitchen, thinking of Jacques and his gun.

Miss Whitnell ran on to the carriage house while I finished moving Katie to safety. As I came round the corner of the carriage house, who should I see inside but that infernal Mme Z!

She had some sort of brazier going, and it was full of some nasty smoking herbs. Elizabeth, Emmeline, and Bert (the coachman) were sprawled on the ground in some kind of pattern drawn on the ground.

Miss Whitnell was staring at Mme Z, seeming transfixed. Fortunately, Mme Z was so wrapped up in whatever nonsense she was fooling with that she didn't attend my approach. I hit her with the frying pan.

There was a great deal of commotion going on out front of the house. I worried that Jacques had more confederates, and might be burning the house down, but at that moment, I had to make sure of the girls' safety. By the time I ascertained that they were breathing alright and beginning to stir, I could see fires popping up all over the neighborhood, even beyond.

Somehow in all the ruckus, the police came. They took Mme Z and Jacques. Then they asked Sir Cosmo, Miss Whitnell, and everyone, to come to the station. This included me. How revolting!

I did my best to display ignorance of Mme Z, her purpose, and her method (not difficult, since I am quite ignorant of these). I thought it most likely that Mme Z had drugged the household in order to commit robbery of the household valuables. I thought perhaps she had tampered with the gas lines (which could explain fire and explosions in surrounding areas).

For some reason, the Mertons seem to have decided that this was all my fault, without any shred of evidence, and with a plausible story to the contrary. They ignored the fact that I had risked my life to defend their daughters from a man armed with a gun. When I think of it, I positively seethe. I suppose they'd prefer a vapid, helpless governess. They wouldn't want their daughters to be influenced by sensible thinking!

Fortunately, I have a new offer of employment, in fact two.

When we went to the Police station, we were actually there to be interviewed by Sir Anthony Blakeny, who congratulated us on apprehending Mme Zephyrine, a French spy.

Apparently all this fuss was about a set of plans that young Edward and Miss Namaste discovered among the effects of the murdered Mr. Milford.

Because of our resourcefulness and daring (thank you), we were asked to become agents for Her Majesty's interests. Apparently, this is a reprise for Sir Cosmo.

Meanwhile, I have been asked by Sir Cosmo to join his household as a Governess and tutor for young Edward. With some misgivings, I accepted. I am pleased with the offer, in that I look forward to working in a household that is not so concerned with propriety and public opinion. However, Master Edward will be a very challenging student, being both boisterous and intelligent. Passable comportment may take more than my lifetime. At least there are the salamanders to amuse me.

Oh, and I met a few other odd persons who will be attached to our company in various ways...

We had a bit of help at the Mertons' house from an American fellow named Kid Rocket (apparently quite a hero to readers of cheap magazines--including Miss Namaste). I don't recall his true name at the moment, we met so briefly.
Our Liaison with Sir Anthony's operations is to be a Naval officer named Lt. Henry Wooster. He seems a bit odd, but perhaps that's a bit of disguise on his part.

His batman is always with him as well, his name is Petty Officer Caine.

A last revelation of the day, I learned that Mr. Frazer is also working for Sir Anthony. He is apparently missing, which explains why he wasn't at the station when I tried to find him earlier today. I hope he's all right.

Tomorrow I will be moving all my possessions from the Mertons' to Sir Cosmo's house.

I wonder if the girls will miss me.

Proceed to '2. A street full of bodies'

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