Goxhill Manor is rapidly emptying of the teeming masses of guests.

Of course Sir Cosmo and the new Lady Cowperthwaite departed yesterday, and with them the whole reason for us all to be here.

Mr Frazer must return to his work tomorrow morning. Ever since he learned of the Dovercourt Conspiracy’s tampering with the files in the Foreign Office and the Home Office, he has been most anxious to return and see what he can reconstruct. Since we are also sending quite a number of prisoners back to London, he and his colleagues will be very busy indeed.

I will be staying here in Goxhill a little longer, so I can spend some time with Humphrey Fernly. I will probably stay until Tuesday, but it all depends on how my work here goes.

Monday, 16 January, 1971

Miss Whitnell and her family have all departed in various directions. Before she left, Miss Whitnell gave me a parcel of what felt like books. She told me that she had been carrying these about with her ever since she had removed most of her possessions from her brother’s home. She said she didn’t have a use for them but that I might. I asked what they were, and she told me they were research materials.

When I finally opened the parcel, I was astonished to find several child rearing manuals. Some were simple little pamphlets, while some claimed to be comprehensive guidebooks. Two of the better-made books were inscribed to Miss Whitnell, or actually to Mrs Forrester, and were dated around what must have been her wedding date.

I have attempted to overcome my disappointment that these are not Elementary Chemistry texts or something similarly useful. I must forgive Miss Whitnell for raising my hopes, as I know she was only so vague about the parcel’s contents in order to avoid revealing my Condition to the others who were nearby. I will read the books and see what information they might impart. I suppose it would be wise to begin to research this latest project, I just don’t want to be seen reading such a book by anyone who doesn’t already know.

Tuesday, 17 January, 1871

I have returned to Charles Street.

Mr O’Flaherty made the return journey with me. It was very kind of him to arrange his schedule so that I would not have to travel alone. I am perfectly able to travel alone, but it does seem a little safer to have the company of such a person. While I could defend myself against a common hoodlum, it would be conspicuous to do so. With Mr O’Flaherty nearby, well, any hoodlum (any seven hoodlums, for that matter) just wouldn’t dare trouble me.

Mr Frazer met me at the train station, along with Mrs Cuthbert and the Cuthberts’ carriage.

Over supper, Mr Frazer told me a little about the further information which had been unearthed in the Dovercourt Conspiracy. He mentioned that they had learned of a warehouse in Liverpool which might contain another centre of operations, and the possibility of finding more conspirators (or at least minions), more material evidence, and perhaps even the analysis engine which we suspect has been a project of the mysterious Mr Dower. The Liverpool police have been instructed to secure the warehouse. I just hope they don’t botch it.

Wednesday, 18 January 1871

Mr Frazer and I are being sent to Liverpool today. We are on the early train. Sir Anthony said that the Analysis Engine had been recovered as hoped in yesterday’s raid, but that Mr Dower was not present. The police on the scene had not been able to find any clues as to his direction. Sir Anthony thought it might be worth the risk to our anonymity to have us examine the scene. I almost wish one of the Mystics could join us, but we can’t risk that much exposure with a Police establishment that doesn’t know us.

I don’t feel at all well this morning, and writing on the moving train is making my stomach uneasy. Perhaps I shall have a short nap.

Wednesday, 18 January, 1871
(continued–late)
Mr Frazer is writing his report, but it probably won’t take long. We hardly found a thing in Liverpool. Unfortunately in the course of the raid, the Liverpool Police had trod upon every square inch of the warehouse. Even Turgenov couldn’t find anything except a discarded chips wrapper–which was then identified as being dropped by one of the Constables yesterday.

If that weren’t irritating enough, the Liverpool police were rather cheeky with us. They didn’t understand why an evidence clerk (even a Senior Evidence Clark) from Town would be coming to look at their scene. They understood even less the presence of his wife. I tried to keep a low profile as I examined what traces I could find, but they saddled me with a junior Constable, who was obviously instructed to keep me amused and out of the way, and who kept trying to make conversation with me while I was trying to overlisten the surrounding discussions.

After wasting the entire day, I was adamant that we return home this very evening, rather than staying overnight and returning in the morning. Mr Frazer seemed concerned that I would be overtired by the journey, so I obliged him by closing my eyes and seeming to sleep on the return journey. I was so annoyed by the memory of the day’s aggravations, I couldn’t really relax.

Now that we are home, though, I hope I will be able to sleep.

Thursday, 19 January, 1871

We had our Defence exercises this morning, for which I was very grateful, having had no exercise and much sitting on the train yesterday, as well as missing yet another of my swimming lessons.

Since breakfast, Mrs Cuthbert has been dragging me all over the house, all atwitter about what rooms will be best for a nursery and which furnishings will suit the purpose, what colors to repaint and what sort of pattern wallpaper to put up. I’m glad to know that she is so happy about the baby. I am happy too, but I am still feeling very cautious about it all. It’s just a good thing that so few of the League are in Town just now, because I don’t think my Condition would remain a secret for long with all this excitement over here.

I’m just dreading the fuss, and having everyone give me advice and tell me what I must not do, and trying to make me eat strange things. Perhaps I will have to employ the “three most important pieces of advice” plan again.

I’m sure my Mother will want me to come to Bridgwater for my Confinement, which is the last thing I want to do. I suppose I can just tell her that I am seeing a specialist here in Town, which will be absolutely true. I don’t have to tell her that my Specialist is a Spiritual Medium. She wouldn’t believe that anyway. I don’t believe it myself. I wonder if I should find an ordinary physician as well? I suspect that he would only be a nuisance and ask a lot of personal questions that I don’t want to answer.

Friday, 20 January, 1871

I was quite pleased to receive a letter from the Yorkshire Naturalist asking permission to publish the Moth Paper. I replied with my assent immediately. Now that I personally know some of the Naturalists who make their homes in Yorkshire, it seems all the more pleasant to have my work recognised.

I was glad to have some encouragement. I felt so sick this morning, I could barely make it through the Exercises. Emily was obviously at a loss to understand my sluggishness, but she was trying to be patient. Mrs Cuthbert looked concerned when I took the third fall in a short time. She helped me up and gave me a motherly pat and encouraging words. Her kindness buoyed my spirits, and I completed the exercises with somewhat better focus.

Still, I couldn’t eat much at breakfast, and I quickly retired to my room to read.

Sunday, 22 January, 1871

Mr Frazer and I attended church at St John’s this morning. The walk over was invigorating, except for the fact that the air of Town is so noticeably wretched after a week in the country.

I have suffered stomachache for days, and I could hardly sit still through the service. I know that the sermon was not any longer than usual, but it seemed absolutely interminable. After the service, I spotted some of the altar guild ladies advancing on us in a purposeful way, and I grabbed Benton by the arm and tugged sharply until he took the signal and we went outside. I have no idea what they wanted of us, but I knew I would not stand up gracefully to any prodding today.

I think I must have looked as ill as I felt, because when we got outside and Benton really looked at my face, he asked anxiously if he should call a cab. I declined, saying the walk would refresh me. It did help, and I had recovered enough appetite to have some tea and toast when we arrived at home.

I read in one of the books Miss Whitnell gave me that this sickness should only last a little longer. Of course, all the books contradict one another, so I doubt their accuracy. I am tempted to write to my sisters for advice, but I think I shall wait a little longer to tell them.

Monday, 23 January, 1871

I spent the day in the Library at the Naturalists Society today, and have come to the unhappy conclusion that I must re-direct my efforts. My plan to write a survey of the insects living in and around London is thwarted by the simple fact that the topic has been canvassed already-- by no less a person than Sir Meacham Murbles.

This work was not entirely completed in 1868, when Sir Meacham passed away. Unbeknownst to me and many members of the Society, his assistant Mr Trowdon has been labouring to complete it from Sir Meacham’s notes. Now that it is nearly ready for publication, it would be inappropriate for me to embark on the same topic.

I was beginning to feel dissatisfied with the scope of this idea anyhow. I couldn’t possibly cover such a broad range of insect life with any depth. I understand that it took the last 15 years for Sir Meacham to get as far as he did.

I hope to have an opportunity to review the survey before its presentation. Surely there is some element of the topic which can be further explored. Or perhaps I could offer some supplementary illustrations. I have seen the work of Mr Trowdon, and I know that illustration is not his forte. Sir Meacham had a clear style, though it lacked a certain elegance.

I am not sure what to do with myself. I simply must have at least one more paper written and published before the distractions of Motherhood overtake me.

Tuesday, 24 January, 1871

Today I went with Mr Frazer to the Tower, where he has been assisting with the questioning of the various prisoners from the Dovercourt conspiracy.

I had come with an appointment to visit Natesh, or I should say Albert. Mr Frazer had reported to me that Nat Albert had been very cooperative and had answered all questions put to him with apparent honesty. So far, all of his statements that might be substantiated have proved out.

I spent three hours with him today, and have received permission to return tomorrow. I confirmed that his engineering and mechanical skills are nearly equal to Edward’s, and that his handwriting is much better. Mr Frazer had informed me that he was very cooperative especially if given instructions in Hindi. I found that of less use, perhaps because my Hindi is not so very fluent.

The most troubling (and annoying) matter is that Albert persists in imitating Edward’s mannerisms. I cannot see what he hopes to gain by it, and I have made some attempts to convince him to desist, to no avail.

Wednesday, 25 January, 1871

Swimming lesson today. It was so pleasant to float in the water again, after so many weeks without practice.

In the afternoon, I went again to the Tower to work with Natesh Albert.

I also sent a note round to Mr Trowdon, via the Naturalist Society, explaining the circumstance of my incomplete researches and offering to assist in the completion of Sir Meacham’s work.

I have not personally met Mr Trowdon except very briefly at a lecture some 3 years ago. I do not know if he knows anything about me or whether he has any interest in my assistance. While assisting an assistant to publish a posthumous work is hardly going to advance my own cause, it is preferable to completely scrapping what I have learned so far. From what I know of Sir Meacham’s work, it will be a most worthwhile piece of scholarship, and will advance the cause of general knowledge.

Sunday, 29 January, 1871

I read an article in the Times this morning, by our acquaintance Mr Oliphant. He had interviewed Mr Hawksworth and also his physician. Poor Mr Hawksworth is immured at Broadmoor Sanitarium. Sir Cosmo is paying for his care there.

I find it interesting to reflect upon the fates of children who, innocently or not, cause tragedy. Sir Cosmo’s revelation that it was actually the young Hawksworth (Dickie Collins as he was then) who was the immediate cause of the Letchworth disaster sheds some light on the insanity that plagues Mr Hawksworth today.

Sir Cosmo and Mr Balderstoke elected to accept the blame for the accident, in a kindhearted effort to shield the 10-year-old boy who had sabotaged the autunite batteries to protect his father’s livelihood. But the boy knew what he had done. He has lived with it, unacknowledged in his conscience, all these years. After a while, he must have come to believe that Sir Cosmo and Mr Balderstoke really did cause the accident, only the guilt in his own heart twisted his perception of the whole dreadful affair.

What would he be like now if he had been acknowledged as the cause of the train’s destruction, but then been pardoned? After all, he couldn’t have foreseen the real consequences of his attempt to help his father. I think he might have been forgiven if the truth of the matter had been acknowledged at the time. But all Sir Cosmo’s tender efforts could not shield him from his own memory.

I compare this situation is to Sir Cosmo’s reactions to Edward destroying the Teutonic Knights’ stronghold, or to Albert murdering Mr Jokking.

Even if we shield children from the brunt of punishment, we must never completely shield them from the knowledge of the consequences of their mistakes.

Friday, 3 February, 1871

I had a difficult morning. I felt typically sick at my stomach, and again found it very difficult to concentrate and perform my exercises. Mrs Cuthbert privately suggested that I avoid sparring, because the repeated hard falls could be Harmful. I have been telling Emily that I have been feeling ill (without specifying the cause) and I have asked if I could just do basic exercises and stretches.

I don’t think I have been gaining much weight, but I am feeling ungainly, and my clothes are fitting strangely.

It seems so unfair. I can’t help but contrast myself with Mrs Cuthbert, who seems to be getting stronger, more agile, more slender and fit, with each passing week, while I feel that I am expanding and becoming increasingly torpid, like a termite queen.
And this is only the beginning!

Fortunately, I regained some appetite this afternoon, and ate some cheese and cold chicken. I felt better then. And Benton brought home an almond bun from the pastry shop, the kind he knows I like. His thoughtfulness was at least as cheering as the bun itself.

Benton reported that Xanthus was found guilty of the kidnaping charges. Thank goodness for that! Since the Plot of ‘53 is the basis for all Xanthus’ recent actions, having him acknowledged guilty there will probably smooth the way for our more recent case.

Sunday, 5 February, 1871

Mr Oliphant continues to be of service to our cause. He has written an article about Proctor Xanthus which portrays him (accurately, in my opinion) as quite mad, vicious, and obsessed with vengeance.

Since he was taken into custody, he has been tried for two sets of his crimes:
-the murder of 6 men in Southwerk
-the kidnapping and attempted murder of Lord Robert St Simon in ‘53 (which is being prosecuted privately by Lord Robert himself)
He was found guilty in both trials, but sentencing is being deferred until the other cases against him are tried.

Saturday, 11 February 1871

Mr Frazer received a note from Inspector MacGregor today. He says that he will be leaving Goxhill Wednesday next to travel to Uffington to visit his Mother and sisters. His note indicated that his health was much improved.

Monday, 13 February, 1871

Today is my 33rd birthday. Last year, my 32nd birthday passed unremarked in the company of the Mertons. I was resigned to living out my days with one family after another, never quite at home, never in the company of persons I could respect, an aging spinster.

I could never have imagined this life I am leading today. This morning my husband greeted me with a kiss and brought me breakfast in our room, where I plan to spend much of the day working on a paper to be presented under my own name. I will shortly go downstairs and engage in vigorous practise in Self Defence. Sometime in August (if all proceeds well) I will achieve Motherhood. I have intelligent and interesting friends and work which I find challenging and worthwhile. I am happier than I have been since I was about 5 years old.

If only I didn’t have this dratted stomachache.

(Later)
I had a very peculiar interview this afternoon, and I have only myself to blame for it.

I realised, when Benton wished me a happy birthday, that although he knows my birthday, I do not know his. I was horrified at the idea that it might already have passed unremarked!

I wracked my brain to figure out how to learn the date. He has no living relatives I can ask. I realised that I would have to ask his dead relatives. Fortunately, I have access to someone who can do that.

After Mr Frazer had left for his day’s work, I went to Mrs Cuthbert to beg her assistance. (I wouldn’t have believed this a year ago!).

She agreed to ask Sergeant Frazer on my behalf. She assured me that she could perform this ritual, especially for such a well-known spirit, without difficulty even with me nearby.

Once Sgt Frazer responded to Mrs Cuthbert’s call, I could hear his voice (as I occasionally do). We asked the question, and the Sgt proceeded to tell a long story about “that snowy November”. Then he stopped and seemed to be talking to someone else. Mrs Cuthbert said there was another voice, a female voice, chiding the Sgt roundly and telling him he had it all wrong. We could not be sure if this might be Benton’s mother or grandmother or someone else.

We are left with some uncertainty. Mrs Cuthbert says the female voice indicated a date in May, but the exact date was not clear. I am inclined to believe the May date, simply because a mother, or even a grandmother, is more likely to remember the conditions under which a child is born, including the time of year.

I will apparently need to delve further if I wish to learn the date. I suppose I could ask my husband outright, but where would be the fun in that?

Wednesday, 15 February, 1871

I received a kind note from Miss Helen Shorrock today. She and I have corresponded for some years, she on behalf of her father Mr Nathan Shorrock, and I putatively on behalf of Peter Sinclair.
She is staying with her Aunts in Lancashire, not far from Edenfield Court. I am looking forward to meeting her personally when I travel that way in something over a month’s time.

Tuesday, 21 February, 1871

I have completed the third month since my estimated date of conception. Mrs Cuthbert continues to assure me that all is well. I have resolved to tell Lady Cowperthwaite when I see her next at Edenfield Court. Sir Cosmo will need to know, since as my Condition continues it will increasingly affect my ability to work. And of course having a small child will do so also. Still, it seems indelicate to tell Sir Cosmo directly, so I hope Lady Cowperthwaite will be my intermediary.

Wednesday, 22 February, 1871

After my Swimming Practise, I went into Town. I purchased a quantity of soft cotton for the construction of blankets for the baby. I am not quite ready to work on anything so obvious as clothing.

My other concession to preparation today was to ask Benton to bring me his family bible. I told him that it would be helpful to refer to any Genealogical information as we select names for the baby. I did not mention that I am also hoping that the date of his own birth might be recorded there.

He looked a little odd for a moment, but then said, “Yes, right, good idea.” He gave me a little kiss, and off he went to take Turgenov for a run. I think his family bible is stored at the house in Sudbury, so it may be a few days before he has opportunity to bring it to me.

Monday, 6 March, 1871

Today Xanthus made an escape attempt while being transported to the Old Bailey for his next trial.

I heard of it when not one but two different runners brought messages to No. 12 and No. 18. Mr Frazer had sent a note which read:

“R–
X Escaped. Secure houses & remain alert. Moody agents on trail. You Must stay clear so they can work.
BWF”

As much as it vexed me to remain here, I had to acknowledge that Mr Moody’s pursuit probably relied on some Mystical process that my presence would only disrupt.

Besides, the League members here could hardly run off to join the pursuit leaving Mrs Whitnell and Miss Betty unprotected. Xanthus could find his way here in hopes of exacting revenge on Sir Cosmo and the rest of us–he’s that sort.

When I went to Stuart to inform him of the danger (and he already knew, thanks to the other runner–from Mr Willoughby), he looked tense, as though he were bracing himself for something. When I said I thought all of us from No. 12 would be coming over to No. 18 so we could consolidate our defences, he relaxed perceptibly.

“What did you think I was going to say?” I asked.

“It’s nothing Miss–er, Ma’am. It’s just that I was concerned that you might...insist on going out. Which would be awkward for me, Ma’am.”

From which I can construe that he had received orders to keep us here.

We all passed a tense two-and-a-half hours in the main Parlour at No.18, trying not to let Mrs Whitnell and Miss Betty see our worry. Actually, Sir Spencer wasn’t tense, he was asleep in an armchair with the paper resting on his chest. I was passing the time helping Miss Betty master a particular leaf stitch which had been difficult for her.

At Last we received a message that matters were settled at the Tower. Stuart readily prepared the clockwork carriage and I shared a ride into the City with Mrs Whitnell, Miss Betty, and Emily. They had some Society business, while I went to the Metropolitan Police and then to the Tower in search of Benton.

When I finally found him, he was carrying out his search of the area with a disturbed intensity. Even Turgenov seemed nervous–his tail low, his ears twitching continuously. I asked Benton what was troubling him. He informed me that one guard had been killed, and another two had been injured. That was bad news, but not enough to account for Turgenov’s state.
“What else?” I asked.
He looked discomfited, and said, hesitantly, “I can only hope that you never have occasion to encounter Mr Moody’s, er, agents. They are rather, well, unpleasant, even at a passing distance.”
Turgenov confirmed this by hiding under a nearby table with his face under his forepaws.

Anything that could disturb my generally fearless husband in this way must be dreadful indeed. As it turned out, these agents had cornered Xanthus in some hiding place, and by the time the rest of the pursuers had found him, he was so badly frightened he could only cry and whimper. He was physically untouched. Dear me.

I wondered if Xanthus’ “lover” had anything to do with the escape. If so, the plan has certainly backfired, since not only was Xanthus injured (in mind, if not in body) during the escape and recapture, but the word is that this incident is likely to spur the Lord Chancellor to request immediate sentencing for the already completed trials.

Mr Frazer was already investigating the possibility of collusion by the secretive lover, so I joined him and we continued to search around the tower for signs of someone who should not be there.

I also thought we should confirm the identities of every person who had been in to interview Xanthus, and that the confirmed persons had actually been in for each of the interviews that they were logged for. This may take some time, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Tuesday, 7 March, 1871

As predicted, my efforts to find evidence of Xanthus’ lover have been tedious. We found no traces of physical evidence, and all of the interview log entries have checked out so far.

Mr Moody gave his opinion that if the lover had been involved, there would have been some sign of mystical tampering with the spells which allowed Xanthus to be found by Mr Moody’s agents. I refrained from commenting that these mystical procedures don’t always function as planned, but I did point out that lack of success or lack of evidence of an attempt does not necessarily rule out an unsuccessful attempt.

That said, I agree that it is most likely that Xanthus simply saw an opportunity in a slightly inattentive guard, or some sort of chance distraction, and he made an unplanned break for it.

Wednesday, 8 March, 1871

Today I bid adieu to Albert, as tomorrow he will be leaving for Portsmouth. He will be assigned to the Nightingale, where he will serve under the auspices of a Mr Kirati (the younger brother, I’m told, of Captain Rodgers’ most excellent batman).

The Nightingale is to remain at Portsmouth for a few weeks yet, and then she will set sail. I am not likely to see Albert again, so I gave him a few books, a sheaf of paper, and a modest writing set, along with the injunction to keep up his studies.

I hope he will thrive at sea, and I hope he will use this opportunity to discover his own personality, or at least to abandon the affectation of bad grammar.

Friday, 10 March, 1871

Today Proctor Xanthus was hanged. Sir Anthony and Sir Sebastian’s offices had decided that they had gotten all the information they were likely to get regarding all of Xanthus’ various crimes. They saw no need to go through with all the trials when he had already been found guilty of numerous capital crimes. So, he was sentenced on Tuesday.

I have heard that the Echo is still printing all their twaddle about a conspiracy. Of Course there was a conspiracy! It is merely that the Editors of the Echo are confused about which parties were the conspirators and which the victims.

All of the Dovercourt conspirators seem to have been accounted for, whether by execution, insanity, incarceration, and in the case of Madam Brody, transportation to Australia, departing tomorrow.

Monday, 13 March, 1870

Inspector MacGregor has returned to London, and started in to work immediately. Mr Frazer is once again assigned to work with him. I’m sure we will invite him for dinner soon.

Thursday, 16 March, 1871

We have received the most astonishing news. Mrs Cuthbert came tearing into the parlour where I was writing, clutching a telegram. I was worried for an instant, but when looked to her face, I could see the happy excitement. She read it aloud.

It was addressed to all of us living at No. 12, from Mr Salmalin & Miss Whitnell, and dated today:

“We married today Glasgow STOP
Edward & George well STOP
Returning EFC STOP” (that’s Edenfield Court, I presume)

I can hardly believe she really eloped with a Footman.

I don’t imagine that she would really have gone through with it unless someone was prodding her–she does dither. I am forced to conclude that Lady Cowperthwaite and Sir Cosmo have conspired to bring this about, since if Salmalin had deserted his post for this elopement, they would hardly be returning to Edenfield.

I am not certain that Mr Salmalin really knows what he is getting into. He often seems so composed and wise, but he is not so very old, and I am fairly sure he was raised in that insane Temple. He was not raised to know his own mind–he has followed first Moriarty, and then Sir Cosmo and Miss Chigwidgeon (I couldn’t say to which of them he has been most devoted), and now...

I hope her family won’t entirely shun her. Where are they going to live? What are they going to do? I certainly respect Mr Salmalin for his abilities, and we all have come to rely on him. But how can a gentlewoman live with a servant? Are they going to move away to her cottage? His history might be unknown there in West Darlson, but he is obviously not an Englishman and not her equal in breeding. In that small village they would be the object of merciless gossip.

I received no sympathy from Benton when I expressed my anxieties to him this evening. He said he thought it was wonderful, and they must really love one another, and that was all that mattered. Well, he grew up in a reindeer-skin tent, so what does he know about the troubles that await my friend?

Well, I can only hope to be proved wrong. It would be worth having Benton say “I told you so,” (not that he would actually say such a thing) if Miss Wh Mrs Victoria can really be happy.

Friday, 17 March, 1871

After Exercises, Mrs Cuthbert and I breakfasted at no. 18. Mrs Whitnell did not come down right away. When she did appear, she looked quite worn and listless, and she had ink stains on her fingers. Emily had come to see us at No.12 to express concern for Mrs Whitnell’s state. She has been much disturbed by her daughter Victoria’s news, but there is nothing for it but to let her think it over for herself.

In Deference to her sensibilities, I attempted to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Miss Betty kept returning to the topic, and exclaiming over the Romance of it all. As her Mother was present, I didn’t think it appropriate to correct her manners, even though she was being so frightfully insensitive.

Sunday, 19 March, 1871

Last night I heard a bit of a to-do of Lt Wooster coming in late to No.18, with Mr Caine cajoling him along as usual, but with the strange addition of Emily’s voice to the mix. I was too tired to rise and investigate at the time.

This morning after exercises, I inquired of Emily what had been going on. She blushed fiercely, though her subsequent story didn’t seem to have anything in it to provoke blushes.

According to her, she had been looking for an old friend of hers. Unfortunately, this friend proved to have died some months ago, only her ghost was still hanging about. This friend, Mary, had had a young brother, and this boy was being blackmailed into acting as a spy.

His target was Lt Wooster, and his blackmailer was in the pay of the Dutch spy, Count Rugin. The Count seems still to be labouring under the impression that Lt Wooster knows something about rockets and is trying to capture him.

The ultimate outcome:
-the boy was found and released from the influence of the blackmailer,
-a man who had been captured by the Count’s hirelings (thinking he was Lt Wooster) was released,
-the Count was injured–Emily’s knife through his hand–but escaped

Caine has probably already given a report to Sir Anthony, but I think I will ask him to tell me his version of the story as well, as Emily’s is not entirely coherent.

I am disappointed that Emily did not call on me to assist her, but apparently I was asleep and Mrs Cuthbert wouldn’t let anyone wake me. I have been unable to sleep at night these last few days, and so I am fatigued all day and prone to nod off. How annoying! Mrs Cuthbert was able to help discover the fate of Mary, at least.

Tuesday, 21 March, 1871

I received a note from Mrs Salmalin today (That name that will take some getting used to).

My notion that the match was promoted by Sir Cosmo and Lady Cowperthwaite has been confirmed. The four of them and Tattvick all went up to Scotland together, ostensibly to see how Edward and Mr Balderstoke are getting on. They all stayed the requisite 20 days and then it was simply done before the Registrar in Glasgow.

She and Mr Salmalin are settling fairly comfortably. Mrs Salmalin now has a Situation as Lady Cowperthwaite’s personal secretary, a position she is well suited to, I think. Sir Cosmo (though I’m sure it was actually Graves) has settled them in a groundskeeper’s cottage, thus dodging the question of Abovestairs or Belowstairs.

One of the things she mentioned in her letter was a lack of suitable clothing. I have sent a note round to Mr Willoughby asking for a short appointment to talk about the clothing allowance due to my friend to replace items destroyed in the line of duty.

(Later)

Well, today was a whirlwind day.

Mr Willoughby agreed to see me, and once with him I impressed upon him the urgency of Mrs Salmalin’s requirements. He assured me that the funds would be forthcoming.

So, I nipped round to our dressmaker, and ordered four dresses made up immediately, to patterns already fit to Miss Whitnell, in suitable materials and colors for a Well-Born Personal Secretary. I have not finalised the trimming selections yet, as Mrs Salmalin might have some opinion about that. I told the dressmaker that I would leaving for Edenfield Court in just ten days, and I would like to take three of the dresses with me. Our dressmaker is becoming accustomed to our requirements, I think, because she didn’t blanch this time. After I left, though, I heard a distinctly heightened pitch in the activity within the shop.

I also stopped by my preferred Millinery shops and purchased two hats and some trimmings that would complement the dresses I had just ordered. I also picked up some modest but well-made gloves and a versatile ready-made bertha.

All this should give Miss Mrs Salmalin a good start in her new Situation.

Wednesday, 22 March,1871

Just today Mrs Whitnell told me that the Salmalins will be coming to London for a visit, and they will be arriving on the 24th. So, in the later part of the morning, I went back to our dressmaker and asked her to finish two of the dresses to be delivered in time for Mrs Salmalin’s arrival. I chose trimmings in good taste that I think will suit her colouring. I can help her change them later if that proves necessary.

I do so want to have something to give her that will help her fit in to her new existence comfortably. I’m sure that the Salmalins will have hardships enough put on them by narrow-minded people.

Thursday, 23 March, 1871

I received a note from Sir Cosmo today. Apparently the respectable side of the Moriarty Family has now heard of Wilhelmina, and her Great Aunt has Taken An Interest.

Our friend Vice Admiral (formerly Captain) Moriarty has relayed a request from Mrs Moriarty to meet Wilhelmina after the Easter holidays. Sir Cosmo seems to hope that such exposure to respectable relatives may give Wilhelmina improved guidance toward Moral Improvement, and he has asked me to work with her on matters of Comportment &c.

I can hope that Mrs Moriarty might be a good model, but the fact is that Wilhelmina will only work to impress her if she is interesting and Wilhelmina deems her worthy of respect. If she is boring, stuffy, or unintelligent, her acquaintance could set back our efforts to civilise Wilhelmina by months.

Friday, 24 March, 1871

Mr and Mrs Salmalin arrived by the late train today.

Not wishing to interfere with the greetings between Mrs Whitnell and her daughter and new son, we all stayed at No. 12, but I was very curious about how matters were going. From all I have seen, Mrs Whitnell has come to terms with her daughter’s elopement, and I think she will be content if Victoria is happy.

Saturday, 25 March, 1871

Mr and Mrs Salmalin came over to No.12 for exercises and breakfast today. Mr Salmalin looked frankly ill-at-ease, and was nearly silent through the meal (though this is hardly a surprise, as he is so often silent).

Several of us went out for a stroll (which seems to help keep my feet from swelling so badly), and Miss Betty was quite loquacious, and seems already quite adoring of her new brother.

Mr James Whitnell had come from Oxford to meet up with his sister and her husband. I spoke with him only briefly, before the Whitnell clan were called in to luncheon at No.18.

In the afternoon, I asked the Salmalins to join us, with an eye to presenting Mrs Salmalin’s new-made dresses (which had just been delivered in the morning).

We settled Mr Salmalin in the parlour with Mr Frazer for company, and I took Victoria upstairs to show her the dresses that were ready. She seemed surprised, but pleased.

Then we had the Cuthberts’ carriage brought round and went to the dressmaker’s, so Mrs Salmalin could look at the other dresses I had ordered for her and select the trims for the final one.

We returned to Charles Street in time to send the Salmalins back to No. 12 for their tea with the Whitnells.

I had expected that the Salmalins would stay a few days, but I heard them preparing to leave this evening. I went to bid them adieu, and before we parted Mrs Salmalin gave me a sheaf of papers: Edward’s reports about his projects in Scotland (some of them seem to be written in cyrillic letters, I hope Mr Frazer can help me read them).

I thanked her for bringing them, and embraced her, and gave Mr Salmalin my hand (much to his consternation, though he barely hesitated to take it). I still worry about them getting along in the strange class they have put themselves in, but I can see Victoria’s determination to be happy shining through her. And she is as stubborn as I am, so she will surely succeed.

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