I am pleased to report that my earlier fears about Mr Frazer's wishes were unfounded. He apparently received the note I sent him, in which I told him (as bravely as I could manage), that he should not feel obligated to marry me just because I told him that was what I wanted. His response was to appear at my door and reiterate his proposal with gratifying sincerity.

He presented me with a bracelet of petrified mammoth ivory, a relic of his years among the people of Chuk-Chi. Now that I think on it, I wonder if he has been carrying it around with him all this time...to give it to me? I suppose I'll know some day.

In my contemplation of these compelling personal matters, I failed to note here that the rail lines to Belgium are expected to reopen tomorrow, and we will probably be underway to Antwerp in the afternoon.

We have planned a shopping excursion in the morning.

Wednesday, 28 July 1870
(mid afternoon)

We are en route back to Antwerp, where we will regroup and also return this train and its Belgian crew to their right places.

This morning began in our usual way, with our Defence exercises and breakfast.

Mr Frazer Benton and I announced our plans at breakfast, and everyone congratulated us warmly. Miss Whitnell and Mrs Cuthbert were smirking almost intolerably.

I posted a letter to my parents, as well. I had been concerned that they (especially Mother) might consider a clerk for the Metropolitan Police beneath my station, but I decided last night that I don't really care. In any case, I know they'll like him once they meet him.

The other point of interest at breakfast was that I gave my female colleagues manuscript copies of the treatise I have been working on in my spare moments: the "Practical Guide to Clothing for Ladies of Action." It is considerably derived from Emily's paper on the topic, which she shared with us when first we met her. I have rewritten it, and added some additional ideas, and also included some illustrations. I was concerned that she would feel that I had trespassed upon her writing, but she seemed delighted. It is written anonymously, so I could not include my own name nor any acknowledgments.

I also took advantage of the relatively secure diplomatic channels to send a copy to Lady Ffolkes, so she could review it and possibly recommend it to Sir Anthony.

The rest of the morning was spent very pleasantly, in the shops of Metz. The residents here seem to feel very festive, no doubt due to the narrow escape from devastation by Prussian troops.

Metz is hardly the same as Paris for shopping, I'm sure, but there were still plenty of shops to visit. I was glad of the Marquis's suggestions-- he has rather a knack for shopping, and seems to know the best places to go after only a few days in town.

Miss Whitnell and I bought some fabrics for replacement garments. I bought some new boning for the corset that I was wearing when I was stabbed. Miss Whitnell and I conspired to select some nice material for new garments for Emily (who refuses to buy anything good for herself) and for Wilhelmina (as Miss Whitnell noted that she only seems to have the one dress). I picked out some lace which I confess I envision on a wedding ensemble. I picked out a few little things to take home to my sisters and nieces as well. I have quite over-spent my own clothing allowance, but fortunately, much of the fabric is for replacement garment which Our Employer will reimburse.

It was challenging keeping track of such a large and scattered party. I felt compelled to count heads every time we moved on to a new area. Good thing too, as I had to search out Inspector MacGregor in an Apothecary's shop. I had the feeling that the Apothecary was not quite right. He took and unconscionably long time to make up a simple headache powder, and the Inspector looked very uncomfortable. Either his headache was very painful, or something else was bothering him. I didn't inquire of him, as I wouldn't want to pry, but I did examine the headache powder carefully for any inappropriate compounds.

I went into a bookshop with Emily, Edward, and Inspector MacGregor. I recommended some titles on Botany for the Inspector to bring home to his sister, who is apparently an avid reader. We also found some translated copies of those ridiculous magazines that Miss Chigwidgeon is so fond of-- featuring fictional versions of Dr Wilson and of Mr O'Flaherty. We also saw a poster promoting the next issue, and it featured none other than our Miss Whitnell and Mr Salmalin battling Schmidt in Antwerp! Oh, Dear.

I convinced the shopkeeper to sell me a poster, so I could show it to Sir Cosmo. He and Sir Anthony will need to know if our identities are compromised.

We returned from our shopping to find that our luggage was being loaded in preparation for our return to Antwerp. Thanks to the diligence of the servants, we have boarded our train in good order.

I'm certain Mrs Middleton will be relieved to return to the Consulate to find us gone. I hope she will recall my words to her regarding her daughter.

Wednesday, 28 July 1870
(evening)

We have arrived back at the villa outside Antwerp. Sir Cosmo had a little trouble with the Estate agent about the earlier damage to the dining room wall, but once he assured them that he would pay for the damage without cavil, we were able to settle in.

We have been planning our next moves. We have two primary tasks left here on the continent:
1) defeat Herr Bopp and recapture the Bull artifact.
2) discover the whereabouts of Miss Cecily Haverson and rescue her if necessary.

The Mystics are at present convened in the Parlour to do a bit of research.

In a few minutes, I will be joining Benton for a stroll in the Villa's very charming gardens, in company with Sir Cosmo and Miss Chigwidgeon. The temperature has just begun to cool, and the roses should still be fragrant from the day's heat.

Thursday, 29 July 1870
(mid-morning)

Our plans are beginning to coalesce.

The consensus has been that although Bopp is the greater threat, Miss Haverson's plight is more specific and probably more quickly settled, and so we will address her situation first.

Through the Belgian Police, we have received reports that a woman matching Miss Haverson's description was removed from an Hotel in Amsterdam after causing a scene in the lobby. The details leave little doubt that it is Miss Haverson, and that she has been captured by the very same Dutch agents that accosted Lt Wooster and Mr Caine on the road to the villa on Monday 19 July.

These reports coincide with the scenes the Mystics scried, which showed Miss Haverson locked in a trunk (and escaping by means of a saw blade which had been concealed in place of a steel bone in her corset). She escaped the room through the window and proceeded to the lobby in her underthings. The silly creature then handcuffed herself to the bannister and started shouting. She would have done better to find some clothes and just walk out of the hotel to find the American Consulate.

As it was, the commotion attracted her captors, who convinced the Dutch Police and the Hotel staff that she was their patient and being treated for Brain Fever. She was given back into their custody. They stripped her of all possible weapons and tools in a most indelicate fashion.

Mrs Cuthbert's pendulum, swinging over Mr Frazer's map of the Netherlands, indicated that Miss Haverson was still in the Northern part of that country.

As it happens, Mr Cuthbert found an invitation awaiting him here at the Villa in Antwerp. He, along with "his party," have been invited to go hunting with His Grace Prince Rupert, the Duke of Florin. This would take us directly to Florhooven, in the North of the Netherlands.

We all agree that this is certainly a trap. Yet, if the agents who had come after Lt Wooster were any indicator, the might of Florin does not impress me. The Agent they sent, one Count Rugin, had managed to botch a perfectly simple abduction, with numerical odds eight to two in his favor. This on top of the fact that the entire objective of the operation had been based on erroneous intelligence and the assumption that Lt Wooster is England's Rocket Genius. It doesn't seem like we have much to fear.

While in Town today, Sir Cosmo will be reporting at the Consulate. Inspector MacGregor and Mr Frazer also have reports to make. The Mystics have an appointment to visit Baron von Raalik and tell him of our defeat of Herr Schmidt and our plans regarding Herr Bopp. In fact, nearly everyone has decided to go for one purpose or another.

I have remained here, along with Miss Chigwidgeon, and Dr Wilson. George has taken on Mr O'Flaherty's task of guarding Dr Wilson so Mr O'Flaherty may go into Antwerp for a well-earned day of liberty.

Since Edward is with Sir Cosmo, I am at liberty myself. I have made the following plan:
1) to spend some time in the garden with my watercolours.
2) to read over Edward's last mathematics lesson
3) to practise with my pistol

Thursday 29 July 1870
(continued–evening)

The party has returned from Antwerp lacking three members. Mr Cuthbert, Mr O'Flaherty, and Inspector MacGregor have all been detained for the night in the city's gaol. Apparently, the three men went to a public house, and Mr Cuthbert was buying the drinks. Somehow, the three of them became involved in a common barroom brawl.

Honestly! I would have thought that we had all had enough excitement recently. Could they not refrain from causing an embarrassment? They will have to go before the Magistrate in the morning. As if we didn't already have enough reputation for trouble after the destruction of the Knights of St Mary's hall. At least Mr Frazer and Sir Cosmo weren't involved.

I just hope that they will be freed early enough tomorrow that our plans to leave for the Netherlands will not be disrupted.

Friday, 30 July, 1870

Despite the aggravations of yesterday evening and a particularly irksome interlude in the early hours this morning, we have all taken to the rails on our way to Florin, as planned.

Our wayward threesome have been reclaimed, and are not much the worse for their night.

Just past midnight, we were disturbed by a great deal of commotion over nothing much. I had scarcely gotten to sleep when I was awakened by Miss Whitnell's feet running past my door. I also heard Miss Chigwidgeon's door open and close, and a set of thumps and exclamations as the two of them collided in the corridor.

I threw on my dressing gown and followed the commotion. I arrived in the servants' quarters, where Miss Chigwidgeon and Miss Whitnell were exclaiming concern for Mr Salmalin. Emily and George were standing about as well.

The two ladies were rather incoherent, but it seemed that they had both been very much disturbed by a bad dream, in which Mr Salmalin had been killed. Indeed, everyone in the corridor had the same disoriented air. Miss Chigwidgeon, with her ususal disregard for propriety, had apparently already embraced Mr Salmalin joyously upon seeing him. Miss Whitnell was now standing directly in front of him, in the grip of some profound emotional state. I thought she would break in some direction at any moment.

Miss Chigwidgeon, reassured of Salmalin's safety, returned blithely down the corridor to her room. I was waiting there to walk back with Miss Whitnell, but she was frozen. Emily, on the far side of this tableau, looked uncertain as to what to do. It was becoming clear to me that this could go on all night.

In a fit of pique, I told Emily to return to her room, that nothing more would happen that night. I turned away to return down the corridor, expecting Miss Whitnell to shake off her state and follow. Which she did. A few moments later. I am fairly certain that she did embrace Mr Salmalin, but I made a point not to look. The whole situation was just too absurd. The whole pitch of emotion about the place today was entirely out of proportion.

As it turned out, everyone in our group had had the same dream, even me. I felt somewhat uneasy at first, fearing some interference from Schmidt or someone like him.

Many of my colleagues have become convinced that the dream was real, and that we actually lived through a Friday, 30 July in which we had never met Inspector MacGregor, and in which Salmalin was killed fighting some kind of demon.

The fact remains, however, that here we have all awakened in the morning of Friday, 30 July, and the Inspector is alive and well, and Salmalin is alive and well, and no trace remains of any reality of what we all dreamed. So the dream's "reality" is completely academic and an unprovable hypothesis.

Despite this, many of the party are particularly perturbed. Inspector MacGregor is suffering, since this dream has revealed a deep and unrequited regard he holds for Miss Whitnell. Miss Whitnell feels guilty, I think, for his unhappiness, and yet her bizarre attachment to Mr Salmalin has only grown stronger. I have no idea what Mr Salmalin is thinking. Who does?

I discussed this experience at some length with Inspector MacGregor. Despite what could be a humiliating sense of exposure to a lesser person, he has held up quite stoicly. All of us have been impressed with his demeanour. I have learned more about his previous history and upbringing, which leads me to respect him all the more. I daresay his father was a brute and a cad, and yet the Inspector is a gentleman of uncommon compassion and sense.

On the topic of mental perturbation, I have noticed a continuing distraction in myself. I had hoped that having an Understanding with Mr Frazer would settle my mind, but it doesn't appear to be the case. I still feel restless when I am not near him. When I see him, I feel all thoughts drain from my head. Frankly, It's maddening!

I spoke with Miss Chigwidgeon about this phenomenon, hoping for reassurance that it might be temporary. She mostly looked at me blankly, which was not very reassuring. I see in her the same restlessness that I feel. She seeks Sir Cosmo's company like an iron nail seeks a magnet. Yet, when they two are together, she comes to rest and achieves serenity. That gives me some hope, at least.

Meantime, I am plagued with idiocy. For example:
As I was repacking a few things this morning, I found again the poster which I had purchased from the bookseller in Metz. Somehow it does not seem so alarming as it did when first we saw it. The illustrations of Miss Whitnell and Salmalin are not nearly so exact in likeness as I recalled.

It is not like me to recall so imperfectly. Did I imagine the likeness? Was I having some sort of delusion? The Inspector saw it too, but we now know what sort of strain he's been under.

In addition to that, last evening I sewed the new collar onto my grey bodice entirely the wrong way, and I had to take it apart and do it over.

I also discovered that some pages of the Practical Guide manuscript, which I lost two days ago (and blamed the Consulate faeries) were actually folded up inside my botanical sketchbook.

I simply can't afford this mental vacuity. Sometimes, I can't help but curse Mr Frazer for putting me through this. If only he weren't so...

Well now, I've forgotten what I was writing.

Saturday, 31 July, 1870
(early morning)

We are already on our way back from Florin, having concluded our business there rather abruptly.

Things started out so pleasantly.

We were met at the train station by Prince Lukas, who is the younger brother and heir to the unmarried Duke of Florin. He was very pleasant, though he had the scatty air of an aristocrat who wants to be useful but doesn't really have any practical knowledge.

We arrived quite after the supper hour, but we were greeted in an after-dinner reception by Prince Rupert and the Dowager Duchess, and other worthies of the Duchy of Florin.

Among them was the Bishop of Florhooven, who seemed alright except for an unfortunate accent or speech impediment of some kind.

We also met Count Rugin. Lt Wooster was entirely devilish, and pretended to know him from somewhere other than a road ambush in Antwerp, and shook his hand warmly. The Count's pained grimace was explained by the Lt later, when he described shooting the Count in the hand in that earlier encounter.

After some pleasantries, some milling around, and a great number of very rich pastries (I think Edward had enough confections in his pockets to open his own tea shop by the end of the evening), we returned to the rooms we'd been assigned. Several of us immediately convened to search for hidden doors and passages, as the architecture suggested that there would be an abundance of them.

One party of searchers included Miss Whitnell, Miss Chigwidgeon, and Inspector MacGregor. The other included myself, Edward, Emily, and Mr Frazer.

My party found a hidden staircase behind a wall in Dr Wilson's room. We tied a rope around Edward (as this has proved wise in the past) and allowed him to take the lead.

We had gone down 4 floors, peering through peepholes and checking secret doors all the way, when we ran out of rope. The stairs continued, and we all wanted to see more. In the interest of safety, we decided to alert the other searchers to what we had found.

We went back up to Dr Wilson's room and found the others.

Our combined party went down once more, this time without the rope. We had gone a little further than our previous halting place when those of us in the lead heard voices. We shuttered the lamp and stood in the dark. Edward crept forward and looked through the cracks into one of the Duke's rooms. The Duke and Count Rugin were discussing their plans, unfortunately they were speaking Dutch. My German gave me a partial understanding of their discussion. It was definitely about us and how they would get control of us.

All at once, Count Rugin approached the hidden door. I was certain Edward would be caught, but the clever child remained concealed behind the door as it swung into the secret passage. Nerves of Steel!

The rest of us had retreated as silently as we could up the stair. Rugin turned to go further down, and we thought we were safe. Then, a thump, a cry, the sound of tearing taffeta, and all of the ladies were tumbling down the stairs and falling in a tangle at the Count's feet. How humiliating!

Mr Frazer came down the stairs to help us. Edward and Inspector MacGregor were not to be found. I clambered to my feet and apologised to the Duke and the Count for disturbing them. I positively gushed about the wonderful old castle, making every effort to appear silly and harmless. I wasn't sure they would believe this act, but I hoped I could at least keep them off balance enough that they would not commit themselves to a violent course of action.

The rest of the group followed my lead, and we continued dithering. Finally, the Duke invited us to return to our rooms by the main stairs, to which we innocently acceded, only to find ourselves surrounded by six well-armed palace guards. We were then led down deeper into the castle, into what can only be called a dungeon.

We met additional partisans of the Duke:
-a strange unkempt person who appeared to be afflicted with albinism, and
-a huge man bearing an uncanny resemblance to our Mr O'Flaherty.

I continued with stalling at every opportunity. We were outnumbered, and the guards had guns as well as swords

They were preparing to chain us up. I was still equivocating. I knew we could expect aid from our colleagues shortly. I also felt sure that we could get out of any chains and manacles once we were left alone. They hadn't searched or disarmed us. I suppose I was waiting for some ideal distraction.

Well, the distraction was provided by the Duke himself. He signaled to one of his guards, who brought in a profoundly ghastly object: an iron witch-binding helmet from the dismal depths of the Dark Ages.
We couldn't have any of that! Manacles are fine, but no one can put something that awful on our Miss Whitnell! She went entirely wild, and charged at the Duke himself with sword drawn. This was our moment, ready or not.

Emily drew her own blades and attacked Count Rugin. I was just drawing my pistol when a round object with a sizzling fuse bounced in through the doorway-- Edward's work. I dove for the corner and covered my head. The fuse was long, though, and I had time to look up, aim, and fire at Count Rugin, who was giving Emily a better bit of exercise than she usually gets.

Mr Frazer accounted well for himself, disabling one or two guardsmen and claiming a sword from one of them. Miss Whitnell was having a bit of trouble with the Duke, taking a nasty gash. I was surprised to see, though, that the giant man turned around and struck one of the guardsmen, who had been about to slash Miss Whitnell. He seemed to find it unacceptable to stab a woman in the back.

At about the same moment, both Mr Salmalin and Edward appeared, as if from nowhere, and held the Duke at the points of several knives. At the Duke's word, fighting stopped.

By the time our reinforcements arrived, the matter was mostly settled. Mr Cuthbert and the Inspector escorted the albinistic henchman to the auxiliary dungeon where Miss Haverson was confined, and they brought her back without further incident.
We then asked the Duke to order up the carriages and take us back to the train. At our pressing invitation, the Duke escorted us personally to the border of his country.

Before we parted from him, I took the opportunity to remind him that only half our company had prevailed in his very own dungeon, surrounded by his most able agents.

I further pointed out that we had come into his country in search of a person whom we did not even like. I invited him to imagine what would happen were he to harass us any further. He seemed to accept the chastisement. We hold the additional power over him that if he were to attempt to annoy us, we could tell his mother, and indeed everyone, that he had not only attempted kidnaping, but had failed dismally.

We are now steaming back to Belgium again, our number increased by the addition not only of Miss Haverson but also of Jeroen, the giant man who betrayed his allegiance to Prince Rupert by protecting Miss Whitnell's back.

We seem to pick up the strangest people!

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