I was so tired when we finally made it back to our rooms at Goxhill Manor, I went right to sleep. But then I had a terrible dream which woke me. Benton is still up and writing his official reports, so I might as well write my own account as well.

The dream which woke me was a distorted summation of much of the day...

First I dreamed that I was having tea with a monkey, and it kept offering me more sugar, and I kept filling my cup with more and more sugar. Just as I was about to drink it, Benton asked me to dance, and we were suddenly at a party. The floor of the ballroom was three inches deep in water, and everyone was dancing through it without really noticing. Then we were doing some sort of quadrille and suddenly several of the dancers were dark-clad turbaned men, all swinging great shining scimitars as they moved through the dance. Everyone else just kept dancing.

I was facing one of these men and instead of the allemande the figure called for, he whirled and slashed my abdomen open. It didn't hurt, but a baby fell out and started swimming through the water, which was growing deeper. I started chasing it, afraid it would be trampled in the continuing dance, I called to it to come back, but it kept swimming and started shouting in Edward's voice, "Can't catch me!" That's when I woke up.

I remember Mary telling me once that she had very strange dreams when she was expecting her first. I wonder if this will keep happening! Not being able to sleep at all is bad enough, but I'm used to that. This is worse.

Now that I have written that out, it seems so silly and unreal. I hope that means it will stop bothering me.

Perhaps if I write out what really happened today...

We began with our Defence exercises. I had already had a small early breakfast of cold chicken which Benton had been kind enough to bring me. I worked hard at our exercises. I suppose it won't be long before people start telling me I'll have to give them up. I plan to be as fit as possible before that happens.

After exercises, we went in to breakfast, where we met some additional guests who had just come in on the early train.

We met Lt Wooster's sister and brother-in-law, Mr and Mrs Travers. Mrs Travers is actually fairly clever, and I enjoyed her conversation. She also warned us that a reporter from the "Echo" had been on the train with them, and had harassed them. The Echo has been determinedly printing all the most slanted reports of Mr. Wroth's death and now also Mr Jokking's. How inconvenient. How cheeky.

Once we were able to get away from these other guests, we made plans for the day's investigations. Miss Whitnell reported that she had done some mystical searching and had detected some oddities:
1) After the early train had left the Goxhill station, someone aboard the moving train had thrown a small satchel off into a field. A person stood up from among the grasses and retrieved it, then ran off at unusual speed. Miss Whitnell was able to track this person as far as Goxhill Grange, Sir Charles Fernly's residence.
2) Once she was looking around there, she discovered that the place was obscured to her mystical senses, but that someone was preparing a sizable ritual.

She returned to her body at that point, concerned that she might be discovered.

Inspector MacGregor, Mr Frazer, and I had already planned to visit a number of potential witnesses in Hornsea regarding the events of last Saturday. We now determined to interview the servants at Goxhill Grange, where Sir Cosmo said he was at the time of Mr Jokking's death. We could then go on to check other stories around town.

So, we took a carriage with George for a driver, and set off to call at the Grange. We sent in word that we wished to speak with the servants who had spoken to Sir Cosmo when he was there on Saturday. We spoke at some length to Umbleby, Sir Charles' very elderly butler. He confirmed that Sir Cosmo had come at about 3:30 in the afternoon, and had remained until ten of 4:00. So, we have one reasonable disinterested alibi for Sir Cosmo, at least.

We also sent our cards in to Sir Charles, as an expected sort of courtesy, but also so we could have a little more time in the area of the house to look around as we waited for a reply.

I was trying to identify the remnants of a cocoon and pupal casing I had spotted in the shrubbery just under one of the windows when I heard voices from indoors. I heard a man's voice and a child's voice, the man scolding the child, and the child asking to see its father...I guessed that this child was Humphrey Fernly, but I couldn't even guess the identity of the man (upper class, educated, light baritone). It sounded like the man struck the child. How infuriating!

Mr Frazer, Inspector MacGregor, Turgenov and I were scattered about outside the front of the house when Umbleby returned and unexpectedly conveyed an invitation to come inside. As we entered, Umbleby slipped me a note, which I palmed and pocketed to read at a more private moment.

What followed was a very strange interview. It began fairly normally, with introductions and mutual compliments. Sir Charles seemed weaker than I had expected, but he seemed to gain in vigour as we chatted about our work and what we had read recently.

As I was surreptitiously examining my tea for drugs or poisons, he said, "have some more sugar," and he was very insistent that I normally take more sugar. How would Sir Charles know how I take my tea? I thought he might be trying to tell me something, so I palmed a lump to take home and test. That didn't satisfy him and he continued to insist. He was looking at me very intently, and I realised that it was someone I had met before looking out at me. It took a long moment for me to recognise that it was the regard of one of our former foes... Baron Scarisbrick's experimental subject Iota.

We took our leave then, and climbed into our carriage. I pulled out the note Umbleby had given me. It was addressed to "Edward's Tutor," and read, "They've done something to my Father. Help!" in a childish scrawl. Well, I had an idea of what sort of something "they" had done.

As we rode toward Hornsea in the carriage, I told the Inspector the details of our previous encounter with Iota. I admit that I had not thought of Iota as a possible ally of Master Tandu. We were quite sure it was dead... apparently the scraps of fur we found in the rubble should not have been considered conclusive evidence of its demise.

Then, Mr Frazer noticed that we were not on the right road. We were just drawing near the seashore. Our carriage was surrounded by a group of 6 dark-clad men in turbans. With swords.

Mr Frazer and the Inspector immediately requested their respective fathers to find Mrs Cuthbert and call for help. Along the edge of the sea were a group of abandoned houses, victims of the encroaching waves. Coming toward us from that direction was Mr Proctor Xanthus, clad in inappropriately elegant clothing and sheltered from the intermittent sunshine by a valet with a sunshade.

It was instantly obvious that George had been compromised. The Inspector hopped out one side of the carriage and started protesting (causing a distraction). Mr Frazer and I climbed out my side. I grasped George's ankle, in the hope that my "gift of quiet" might push whoever was possessing George. He looked at me, still not himself, and so I called for my parasol. He grinned evilly, and said that I should be more careful about whom I touched, hinting that I would myself be possessed if I did it again. But he gave me my parasol.

Mr Xanthus proceeded to gloat at us. He gleefully told us all about his cleverness in devising this entire plot to destroy Sir Cosmo, how he had killed Mr Wroth and Mr Jokking, &c &c. I found his discourse quite irritating, but we all kept him talking, since he was conveniently confessing his deeds and his plans, and also taking up time during which our comrades would be coming to help us.

After some time at this, he separated Inspector MacGregor from Mr Frazer and myself. We might have resisted this, save that he threatened harm to Sir Charles and Humphrey if we resisted. Xanthus had indicated that he planned to destroy Inspector MacGregor by making him appear to murder Sir Sebastian Ffolkes. He told us that he could plant evidence in the Inspector's file at the Metropolitan Police to manufacture a motive.

Mr Frazer and I were taken away to one of the houses, where we were bound together with our arms intertwined, and secured with Mr Frazer's and Inspector MacGregor's handcuffs. We were situated on the ground floor, standing in a muddy, salty puddle. We were watched for some while by a pair of the armed men.

We heard a portion of our captors go upstairs and continue at least to the second floor, taking the Inspector with them. We heard some chanting, which sounded like one man, (and not Proctor Xanthus), and I could smell some candles burning. I thought it likely that some ritual was being enacted to "possess" Inspector MacGregor's body.
In time, we heard a party go out of the house and we heard a carriage (presumably our carriage) depart. The pair guarding us went upstairs.

Mr Frazer and I commenced to try to get free of our bonds. Our captors had searched him, taking his knife and the keys to the handcuffs. They had neglected to search me thoroughly, however. Mr Frazer was able to remove my hatpin (my hat fell down into the puddle, and is mostly ruined now), and then pull a hairpin from my chignon with his teeth. He dropped it and it stuck in the collar of my bodice, but he was able to retrieve it. This could have been quite diverting, if not for the danger of our situation. Sgt Frazer and the late Mr MacGregor also returned suddenly, and made some impertinent comments, which made it yet more difficult to concentrate.

At last, he picked the lock on his handcuffs and with some contortions were free. Mr MacGregor was able to give us some information about the location of the Inspector and of the guards. We heard Turgenov by the window, drawing our attention to the half-rotted trellis on the outside of the building. I removed my outer skirt and crinoline and ascended very carefully.

I passed the first floor windows and made it up to the second floor without being spotted by the guards. I peered in and saw Proctor Xanthus tied to a chair, and no one else. The late Mr MacGregor had said that something was not right with the Inspector, and given various other indications, I thought it possible that this was our Inspector imprisoned in Xanthus' body. This idea was confirmed by his behaviour and by his responses to my sotto-voce questions. I cut him free of his bonds and quickly secured a splint to the wrist he had broken while trying to free himself.

We were contemplating our mode of escape when a ruckus outside drew us to the window. Mr Frazer and Turgenov were fighting with 4 of the enemy guards. They had subdued 2 (one of whom was struggling against entanglement in my crinoline), but the remaining 2 were attacking most unsportingly. I shot one, and Mr Frazer was able to defeat the other. I thought that if I'd known they were so easily beaten, we might not have allowed them to separate us in the first place, despite their threats against the Fernlys.

I signaled to Mr Frazer that the Inspector and I would check the rest of the house and join him shortly. We crept down the stairs. As we crossed one of the landings, one more enemy made to leap out of a closet at us. The Inspector, forewarned by his Father, slammed the closet door hard against the black-clad arm, and I shot at the assailant through the door.

This villain proved far more formidable than his compatriots in the yard. He somehow dodged my bullet, despite my point-blank range--I think he deflected it with the blade he swung around. He instantly made a sweeping slash at me, and was intent on another.

I had just fired another shot when Turgenov leapt seemingly from nowhere and knocked him over. Man and dog tumbled out the small window which lit the landing and into the yard below. The Inspector and I ran to the window to see the villain throw aside Turgenov's limp form and advance upon Mr Frazer.

Just at that moment, our compatriots arrived in a wild careening of horses and carriages. Emily leapt out of one of them and attacked the foe with blinding speed. I now could not shoot at him without an unacceptable risk of hitting her. I jumped out the window and started gathering stones to throw at him. However, my stones proved unneeded, as Sir Spencer, more certain of his aim than I, fired at the foe's leg He brought his blade down to deflect the bullet, which left him open to Emily's stroke--she ran him through.

Speaking of being left open, I realised that the foe's blade had completely slashed my bodice, cut open my corset, and severely compromised even my chemise. Mr Frazer ran over and gave me his coat, which was inconveniently large on me, but very much better than the indiscreet and distinctly breezy state I was in.

I ran over to see about Turgenov, but Mrs Cuthbert was already at work on him-- he was badly slashed but alive. As soon as Mrs Cuthbert had done what she could, Mr Frazer carried him to one of the carriages.

We were all talking at once now. Inspector MacGregor was very anxiously inquiring after his body, which was lying unconscious in the carriage. George (who appeared to be himself again) was busy apologising for the fearsome bruise which was spreading over the unconscious body's face.

Mr Frazer was hovering over Turgenov, and glancing anxiously at me from time to time.

Emily was asking Miss Whitnell if she should permanently dispatch the surviving foes (Miss Whitnell said, "No.").

Then I remembered the threat to the Fernlys. I was unwise enough to mention it aloud, and Edward was suddenly in a furor to be off to rescue them. He was right, though, especially since we didn't really know if or how the parties of enemies might communicate among themselves. We warned them that Master Tandu, Iota and the unknown enemy Mystic were still at large.

Inspector MacGregor was extremely anxious about getting back into his own body, and was plaguing Miss Whitnell about whether she could put him back right away. She was adamant that it could wait. She told him that she had never done such a thing before, and furthermore his body would not expire for some time, even uninhabited as it was (Miss Whitnell and Mrs Cuthbert had already removed Proctor Xanthus from it and put him in Lt Wooster's flask).

At last a plan was devised...Mr Frazer and I would take two of the extra horses and ride at best speed for Hornsea, where we would wire to Mrs Godwin in London and ask for her help. Then we would ride on to Goxhill Grange to join the rest of the League in rescuing Sir Charles, Humphrey, and any of their household.

Miss Whitnell had removed her own bodice and given it to me, so I would be better able to ride into Town. I must have looked a sight-- my overskirt and crinoline were muddy and deformed, my bodice mismatched, and my hat-- well, not quite as smart as it was this morning.

In all, we were not in terribly good condition. Lt Wooster had been badly shot, Turgenov had been slashed, and Inspector MacGregor's body was unconscious. The Inspector's mind was in Proctor Xanthus' body, and that had a broken wrist. Emily had taken a noticeable slash from the last foe. Mr O'Flaherty had a broken arm from last night's fighting. My own close brush was hardly worth mentioning compared to all that.

Still, there was nothing for it but to saddle up and charge on. Mr Frazer and I galloped off toward Hornsea, and the carriages careened off at the fastest speed Edward could urge out of the tired and frightened horses.

I am very thankful that I did not fall off my horse. When Mr Frazer and I arrived at the telegraph office, it took a bit of trouble to convince the agents there to transmit our message and stop asking questions about what happened to us. He had to invoke the privilege of "Police Business." Well actually, it was I who invoked it, as Mr Frazer was too polite to interrupt their nattering.

We also called on Constable Boles and asked him to round up the prisoners (and the one corpse) we had left at the house on the shore. We did warn him that there might be other members of this gang in the neighbourhood, and that he and his constables should be extremely cautious.

At last we concluded that bit of business and rode on to Goxhill Grange. By the time we arrived, the fight was over.

Edward was leading a boy toward the group from away off in one of the fields. George and Mr Salmalin arrived from the back of the house to report that some 8 "hassassin" fighters had been dispatched.

The Mystics had formed one of their circles out behind the house. I did not venture too close, but I could see not only our partisans, including Miss Chigwidgeon and Mr O'Flaherty, but also Miss Chigwidgeon's great-grandmother, (who apparently answers to the title "Nanny") and another very elderly woman.

Some minutes later, Emily stood, looked around, and dusted herself off. Inspector MacGregor, now in has own body, was helped to rise. He was moaning rather piteously with the pain of his broken jaw. Even with Mrs Cuthbert's help, I understand that this will take some time to heal.

When I was told that Iota had been killed by Sir Spencer's elephant gun, I insisted on seeing for myself. This was quite grisly, but I found enough bone fragments, including pieces of a small skull, to be fairly certain that the nasty little creature was actually dead.

I also saw the body of the reputed mystic who had been responsible for the body-switching, which was also in very bad condition. This fellow had been in the midst of a ritual when he was killed. The resulting surge of uncontrolled energy caused some problems, but these seemed to have been set right.

We convinced Sir Charles to come with us to Goxhill Manor and allow the Police to clean up the carnage in his house. I'm afraid that between the elephant gun and the all-out fight of Master Tandu against Mr O'Flaherty and Emily, there are some significant holes in the Grange's woodwork.

When we returned to the Manor, Miss Whitnell and I both voiced some concern about being seen by other guests in our present state of deshabille. Edward volunteered to solve this problem by taking us in through the hidden passage which goes into (and out of) the Nursery. This explains a great deal!

Despite my vexation in belatedly learning of Edward's escape route, we were nonetheless grateful for the discreet entrance. I was able to go to my rooms and change. Benton insisted on a detailed inspection of my person to ensure that I had not been cut by the blade which had so dramatically destroyed my clothing. This caused some delay, but eventually we made our way downstairs for tea.

I was pleased to greet Lady Ffolkes, who had arrived on the midday train. Sir Sebastian had been scheduled to accompany her, but had been detained in London on business. Still, with the testimony provided by two police officers regarding Proctor Xanthus' confession (i.e. arrogant boasting), she felt confident that Sir Cosmo could justifiably be given into Lord Greyminster's custody rather than being arrested.

We were shortly joined by Mrs Godwin, who had come very quickly, along with Mr Weasley and a Mr Moody, in response to our telegram. She was relieved to hear that the situation was mostly in hand. She also agreed to assist with making sure that the enemies we had defeated today would not trouble us further.

So, it seems we have thwarted this plot, though there are still a few loose ends which require investigation. The most difficult task remaining is to try to clear Sir Cosmo in the eyes of the public and the press. We can hardly tell the truth, complete with maniacal monkeys, evil occult warriors, and possession by invading spirits. I don't even believe all that, and I have seen it with my own eyes.

Edward made an excellent suggestion that we circulate a story of Sir Cosmo being framed by a master of disguise. This would explain how witnesses had seen him at the various crime scenes. It is far-fetched, but might just capture the public imagination, especially if we can produce the killer. If, the "woman in mourning" was really Proctor Xanthus, then we might even get corroboration on the disguise story from the Fernly establishment.

Meanwhile, we still had to fulfill our social obligations and help maintain Sir Cosmo's standing in the neighbourhood by attending Lord Sidcup's party, which was, after all, being held in Sir Cosmo's and Miss Chigwidgeon's honour.

Some of us took a little rest, and then dressed for the evening. Inspector MacGregor stayed home, being still in much pain from his jaw (and looking quite terrible from the bruise). Edward stayed behind to keep Humphrey and Sir Charles company, and Emily and George stayed with him.

The rest of us rustled out in our evening dress-- Mr Frazer wore the cravat I had given him for Christmas. I wore my plum colored gown. Miss Chigwidgeon looked quite as radiant as ever. Lt Wooster was proud as a peacock wearing an outlandish waistcoat, which he had purchased in Paris-- Caine looked terribly chagrined, but had apparently been unable to dissuade the Lt from wearing it.

The party was a success overall. I felt as though I was an entirely different person from the woman who had been fighting for her life in the afternoon. I could hardly have said what seemed most unreal to me, the afternoon's adventure or the evening's decadence. I could still detect the faintest scent of gunpowder on my hands when I drew off my gloves.

I danced through much of the evening, including several dances with my own husband, and at least one dance with each of the gentlemen of our own party, and several others from around the neighbourhood.

Our nominal host, Lord Sidcup, spent the evening mostly in the card room and talking with other gentlemen. His son and daughter-in-law, Lord and Lady Rufford, handled the duties of hosting with enviable ease.

I heard a slight flurry in the reception line while I was out on the veranda with Mr Frazer, and saw a fellow being ejected from the house. I later learned that this was Mr Hawksworth, the reporter who had been annoying Mr and Mrs Travers on the train this morning. He had had the cheek to crash this party and try to get a story from Miss Chigwidgeon.

This fellow is very annoying, no doubt, but I have an inkling that if we are clever, we may be able to use him to our advantage; if we are careless, he can do us a great deal of damage.

With all the day's shooting, running, and dancing, it is no wonder that I am so very weary. I see that Benton is blotting his papers and cleaning his pen, so I think I will conclude.

I wonder if there is some bread and jam in the kitchen.

Tuesday, 10 January 1871
(morning)
To do:
-salvage trimmings from dark blue hat
-ask Mrs Cuthbert to examine me us me
-complete expense report for Monday's clothing losses
-spend some time with Humphrey Fernly and assess his capabilities and intellect
-confirm or refute the identification of Xanthus as the "woman in mourning"
-search Goxhill Grange thoroughly for evidence of other conspirators
-contrive some plausible story and a way to spread it to Hawksworth.
-double lessons for Edward to make up for Sunday and Monday: French, Latin, Natural History. Drawing practice covered by recent schematics
-thank-you notes to Sgt Frazer and Mr MacGregor for critical and ongoing assistance. How to deliver? Ask Mrs Cuthbert
-contrive choice treat for Turgenov
-extra practice in dodging/parrying blows to abdomen

Proceed to Time enought, yet, for another disaster

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