Thursday, 5 May, 1870
(evening)

Today went mostly according to plan. We started out briskly with exercises with Salmalin. This is the 4th day (we skipped Tuesday) of these sessions for me, and I note a certain stiffness--in my arms especially--that I hope is the precursor to improved condition.

Miss Chigwidgeon, Miss Whitnell, Mrs Cuthbert and I spent the day together attending to all the items on my list.

We had a pleasant, brief visit with Lady Ottoline, and received good advice. Miss Whitnell also had an opportunity to find out what her sometime companion Mary (Tatvick) has been doing in her studies at Lady Ottoline's school.

Next visited the dressmaker who is making further gowns for Miss Chigwidgeon at Sir Cosmo's instruction. We reviewed the designs, and found them all reasonably appropriate for Miss Chigwidgeon. I also discussed an additional gown for myself, as we are invited to numerous festivities Wednesday next.

I feel entirely profligate in getting yet another new gown, but I find myself in such an altered status from my former Situations. I feel I must put up a reasonable showing lest I embarass Sir Cosmo. Fortunately, Sir Cosmo has given me the most generous salary a Tutor/Governess could hope for, and I have some monies from the Reward from our last capture.

Our next stop was the Jeweler's (Rothsteins'), where, armed with the Dressmakers' swatches. we examined the jewelry Sir Cosmo had ordered for Miss Chigwidgeon.
The Jeweler's proposals were somewhat oversized for a young lady of her unusual status. We did encourage her to go ahead and get a modest tiara of semi-precious stones.

Miss Chigwidgeon seemed rather at sea about the whole affair. Mrs Cuthbert, sensitive as she is, drew Miss Whitnell and myself aside, and indicated some concern for Miss Chigwidgeon. All these jewels and dresses and balls and attention could expose her to high hopes and expectations which could collapse disastrously when the cruel powers of High Society learn just how common-born she is.

I pooh-poohed her concerns at the time, thinking about how well Miss Chigwidgeon has been accepted by Sir Cosmo's circle.

On reflection, however, and seeing how confused Miss Chigwidgeon is becoming, I think Mrs Cuthbert may be right. We have tried to warn Miss Chigwidgeon of the Fickleness of Society, and she seems to care little for all of it, only for Sir Cosmo's good opinion. Still, she has been faced with much uncertainty of late, and seems to be uncomfortable with all the attention.

Perhaps a word in Sir Cosmo's ear. He is so generous, and so determined to disregard the status-consciousness of his social equals. Such rules can be ignored by those at the top, but heaven help any of us in the middle, much less at the bottom, if we have the temerity to flout them.

Anyway, we were all rather wild-eyed with all the jewelry and ballgowns. Mrs Cuthbert, giving in to the impulse of the moment, offered to buy us each some piece of jewelry. I could hardly refuse! I suppose she (or her uncle) has the wealth to not regret such an impulse. I selected a pair of exquisitely delicate earrings in gold filigree, each with a small sapphire and three tiny pearls. I have never had anything so fine! Miss Whitnell selected some charming earrings with deep red stones. She will be able to wear them when she comes to Half-Mourning, I think.

In addition to our visit to Lady Ottoline's recommended Dressmaker, we stopped in a few shops to select stuffs to make our own Reform ensembles.
I am hoping to contrive a way to wear a Reform ensemble with a more conventional skirt and crinoline added on top, so I can simply unhook the skirt and be ready to work, without even needing a private place. (Fortunately, belted waistlines are continuing popular, even though the skirts are changing.)
I haven't truly solved the problem of corsetry yet. Perhaps I will simply have to resign myself to wearing a looser corset at all times. Not too outre for daily wear, but not too constrictive for emergency action. One can hardly be a Secret Agent if one's clothing attracts everyone's attention.

After this whirlwind, we stopped home for a bit to eat and to retrieve Edward and Sir Cosmo (the other gentlemen of the household were all out at various clubs and supper engagements). We all proceeded to Claridge House to see the exhibit.

The Paintings were fine. Numerous landscapes, a few portraits, some excellent still-lifes, and a handful of nude figures (the last were modestly screened off to avoid inadvertent viewing by sensitive persons). In the interest of being well-rounded, I looked at every single painting, even the portraits. Edward tagged along dutifully, and seemed to be paying good attention.

I was distracted from my circuit when I overheard an Irish gentleman describing a meeting with Sir Anthony Blakeney. I felt compelled to make sure that this man was not talking about something he shouldn't be. I couldn't be sure even after listening for several minutes.

I drew the attention of the others to the situation. We brazenly engaged this man and his companions in conversation, They were all doctors at Bethlehem Royal Hospital (how unnerving!). Fortunately, Sir Cosmo was able to draw off some of them by discussing funding for some projects at the Hospital.

With some effort and awkward conversational ploys, we were able to get the Irish Doctor, Creven Shinnach (or so it sounded), to tell us all about his business with Sir Anthony. Fortunately it appears to be not particularly secret, just a case of an unfortunate madman formerly in the Naval services.

He told a very eerie tale of a patient, who had turned up with no memory of who he was, who has been ranting for days about apocalyptic visions. Sir Anthony was simply involved in an effort to identify the man and make sure he was well cared for.

Reassured that no breach of secrecy had occured, I looked for Edward and found him settled in a corner, sketching busily. We took our leave.

I have settled down to catch up on correspondence. I think I'll write to Mr Frazer to tell him about the Exhibition, since it was he who suggested seeing it first. What a shame he couldn't come along. I suppose I can address my letter in care of the Police, and either he'll receive it when he returns, or someone will forward it to him, wherever he is. I hope he's well and safe.

I also must write to Father and Mother, as I haven't written since before we went to Liverpool. I am taxing my imagination to make my life sound innocuous. I'm sure they were delighted with my account of the Ball at Goxhill Manor. I haven't dared say much about most of my friends here. My description of Edward would not be recognized by any that know him. I think the only really accurate thing I've said about him is that he doesn't like to wear his shoes. They are impressed and anxious about the circles I'm moving in now. Mother, especially, fears that I'll get ideas above my station, and yet I think she secretly harbours hopes of me marrying upward--at this late date! The Very Idea!

I suppose I'll be awake late, as the sandwiches I dared to eat at the Exhibition are giving me the stomachache. I can while away the hours copying another Moth Paper, I suppose.

Friday, 6 May, 1870
(mid-morning)

I awoke in time to attend Salmalin's practice session, but I am not in good form today. Last night's lack of sleep is weighing more heavily than usual. Edward began banging on the submersible vessel Very Early. He is quieter now, because he is filling it with water to check for leaks.

I have had a little weak tea, but I still look about as lively as Lt Wooster, who was out very late again (Apparently he's having trouble with his sister, who is pressing him to marry--for some reason, I had always thought of arranged marriages as an anxiety faced by women only, that men have freedom to choose. I guess it's a more universal aggravation than I realised.)

The ladies of the household have all been invited to tea with Miss Louella Pinker. I am going to try for a nap, so as to be alert enough for Society manners.

(evening)

Poor Dr Wilson has been very downhearted this evening.

There was a very important test of his latest Rocket in the Water Tank at his laboratory, and apparently it did not go well. He has been working so hard on it (between the distracting events of our Other Exploits, that is), we have scarcely seen him about the house. What a shame to have this setback. Still, he is a very determined and very knowledgeable man, and I'm sure he will succeed in his plans in time.

At least the explosion didn't damage the facilities. Edward is to be allowed to use the Water Tank to test his submersible model tomorrow. He is pounding vigorously as I write, putting some finishing touches to it.

Other than that, a fairly uneventful day. Our visit with Miss Pinker was pleasant. She was as genuinely charming as always.

Mr Ramsay came to call while I was napping this morning, and spent some time with Miss Whitnell and Mrs. Cuthbert. I'm not sure exactly what they were up to.

I know I shan't sleep with Edward's work going on. I think I'll look in on his progress, then settle down for some sewing.

Saturday, 7 May, 1870

A fine day, in all.

The notable event was the success of Edward's model. Its clockwork mechanism seems to have propelled it as planned, and Edward declares that it is free of leaks. Hurrah!

Dr Wilson, though initially somewhat put-out by this success in contrast with his own machine's failure yesterday, quickly recovered and began consulting with Edward about their respective methods. Dr Wilson impressed me with his willingness to respect Edward's Accomplishment and treat Edward as an ally rather than as a rival.

I encouraged Edward to document his findings carefully, and keep notes of all the less successful innovations as well as the successful ones. His methods are rather intuitive, and he's not very concerned with documentation for Posterity. Still, it gives him a chance to practice writing on a topic that really interests him. I am struggling to get him to use actual English words rather than his usual vague descriptive terms. Even completely new inventions need respectable names if they're to be accepted by the stodgy members of the Scientific Societies.

Sunday, 8 May, 1870
(late evening)

Were aboard a train, rushing to board the HMS Griffin.

The day started with exercises, then a scattering of the household.

After early Church Services Miss Whitnell and Sir Cosmo accompanied Miss Chigwidgeon to luncheon at the Grahams'. I understand that it went well.

Mrs Cuthbert and Mr Cuthbert attended the regular Sercvices. The house was quiet, so I was amusing myself with sketches of my newly ordered gown and designs for the removeable skirt.

A messenger came with an urgent note for Mrs Cuthbert from Mr Ramsay, saying that she was needed right away. Graves and Patsy were at services, too, so I took the message to the Church and slipped in to give it to Mrs Cuthbert.

Off she went to see what Mr Ramsay was about.

As seems to happen often with us, small, seemingly unrelated events occuring over several days have all come together at once and pitched us headlong into action.

Mr Ramsay had called for Mrs Cuthbert's help in a matter for the Order of St Jerome, wherein one of their members on assignment had gone off with an Expedition to the Cape Verde Islands. The Expedition had arrived well enough, but had then disappeared.

The former Navy man, with the apocalyptic ravings, was identified as a member of that same Expedition. The Expedition was mounted because this man, a onetime cartographer for the Navy, had acquired a strange object in his travels, an Egyptian-looking artifact which he had found on an uninhabited island a long way from any known Egyptian influence. The man showed the artifact to a Professor who was so excited that he immediately set up the Expedition and hired the Cartographer to guide them.

Sir Anthony's inquiries have brought to light the lifeboat that the raving man was found in, and it belonged to a French "Aero-Frigate" called the Majeste. This knowledge brings new light to some of the man's statements, the proverbial grain of truth. Among other things, he spoke of being taken into the sky by a behemoth (or some such), and it being destroyed by firebolts.

The Majeste has been noted as Missing, and our madman might be a witness to its demise, as well as the destruction of the Expedition.

So, off we go to the Cape Verde Islands, having spent all afternoon packing madly and rushing to catch the train to Harwich. I have never been abroad, and I'm rather worried that a Sea Voyage will not suit my stomach.

The HMS Griffin is a brand new ship (made all of metal, imagine!), with a new propulsion system designed by Sir Cosmo. This being its "maiden voyage," Sir Cosmo is supposedly along as a technical consultant, and bringing his entire household as a gesture of Confidence in the new ship.

I have fairly firm faith in Sir Cosmo's invention, though a tiny qualm takes me when I recall that his own parents were killed by one of his inventions. I'd never speak of it, of course. He's much more accomplished now.

I just can't imagine what the sea is really like, or what Cape Verde is like. I'm sure the food and the shipboard accomodations will be dreadful. Still, I can't help a thrill of anticipation for this entirely unlooked-for adventure.

I packed my painting things and my sketching kit, and all the pieces of my half-made sets of Reform Clothing. I refuse to be drowned by my own crinoline if I am swept overboard, so it's Turkish Trousers for the Duration of the Voyage, and damnation to Propriety!

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