Today I learned that I am carrying twins. This was rather a shock to me. Mrs Cuthbert has known for some time, but said that she didn't want to interfere by telling me, that it wasn't her business. Not her business? She doesn't seem to realize that I rely on her advice more absolutely than anyone else's. Without her, I would be completely panicked (whereas with her reassurance, I am only extremely nervous).

My father-in-law seems to have known about this as well, and has told everyone who could hear him (except, apparently, Benton). I asked Mrs Cuthbert, confidentially, if she could tell the sexes of the children, and she said it was to soon to tell. I asked her to tell me, and only me, as soon as she could make an identification.

The way that I learned about this unexpected circumstance was peculiar in the extreme. The four of us who have stayed at Dearden House, plus a few others, were apparently all affected by the hallucination-inducing hibernation of Mr Shorrock. All of us dreamed the same dream, from our individual points of view. This was not so outlandish an hallucination as we experienced out on the moor—we were all at a fête at the local church. I found myself there, with Benton, each of us pushing a pram. Sergeant Frazer appeared, commenting that it was good we were taking the babies out in the air. I exclaimed to myself, "I wonder if this means something." Benton turned to me in some surprise and we embarked on a conversation about whose dream this was.

This dream continued with minor odd occurrences. We met up with Mrs Cuthbert eventually, and I asked her if I was really carrying twins (fully aware that any confirmation I received would still be within the realm of this dream). Our conversation was cut short by simultaneous disturbances with Edward's voice in one direction and Wilhelmina's voice in another. I left Benton with the two prams and went to find Edward, and so I discovered him vexing the officiant of the Aunt Sally game by insisting to continue playing after breaking the pipe three times running.

I dragged him away from this minor misbehaviour, and went in search of Mrs Cuthbert. I found her attempting to break up an impromptu lesson being given by Wilhelmina to a group of urchins on how to open a safe with dynamite.
Next, a train car, complete with a safe aboard, appeared for Wilhelmina's demonstration. She had just been handed the dynamite by an adult man: Frederick Shorrock's manservant, Sullivan, who seemed very interested in the technique. Our troublesome Wilhelmina proceeded to light the fuse despite Mrs Cuthbert's exhortations.

The expected explosion occurred, none of us in the dream were injured. The nefarious Sullivan was just reaching to the rubble of the dream safe when Sergeant Frazer grasped his arm. The Sergeant exclaimed, "Shark! I thought you were dead!" just as Sullivan exclaimed, "Frazer! I thought you were dead."

We were at once awakened by shattering glass in the waking world. It was the very early hours of morning. Mr Frazer and I ran into the corridor, I pausing to don a wrap, but Mr Frazer still mostly dressed.

We arrived in the study to find Miss Helen standing in the middle of the room, not entirely awake, As she woke, she reported that she had dreamed that she was at a church fête, and that she had been playing the Aunt Sally game. She had sleepwalked and come here the study, and had thrown a paperweight out through the window.

Mr Frazer and Turgenov examined the grounds and discovered traces of a lurker, but whoever he was (and we agree that Sullivan is likely, from the traces found) he had been frightened off by the sound of breaking glass.

We saw to the securing of the broken window with boards, and then Mr Frazer and I remained in the study for the rest of the night.

I was left pondering the significance of the dream. Not only the likelihood of twins. Also the simultaneous presence of both Edward and Wilhelmina.

And the fact that Emily was there on the arm of Lt Wooster. She looked quite...embarrassed? Alarmed? in the waking world, when she appeared in the corridor in response to the breaking glass, but that could certainly be ascribed to the alarm of waking and the proximity of a man (my husband) in his shirtsleeves and braces.

In addition to the shock of learning that not one but two babies will be...forthcoming, I also experienced the first sensation of quickening. It was very odd, even alarming. I was just settling to a bit of breakfast and...it was a fluttering, swishing feeling, as though I had a live fish swimming in my abdomen. Mrs Cuthbert caught my stifled gasp, and after a moment she smiled, reassuring me that my little fishes were well.

But, I digress. We are still pursuing a case.

Inspector MacGreggor came to call at Dearden House, and he and Mr Frazer asked some further questions of the Shorrock ladies, this time on the matter of the lady's maid who had married a furniture maker–this woman whose relevance to the case we have deduced by the targets selected by the Kennington Road Burglar.
Our Gentlemen continued their inquiries in town as well, interviewing additional persons who might know more of this lady's maid. I summarise their findings:

A woman named Cooper was the lady's maid to the Mother of Miss Shorrock, Miss Agnes, and Nathan Shorrock. Cooper had been named in Mrs Shorrock's will to receive some particular pieces of Mrs Shorrock's jewelry.

This Cooper had said that although she was not a witness to the will, she had seen it. She maintained that the will which was filed with the family Solicitors, which was ultimately read at Mrs Shorrock's death, was different from the will she had seen.

This possible substitution of wills had been part of Horace Shorrock's claim that his Father had withheld some of his inheritance from him.

Eventually, Cooper had married a journeyman furniture maker named Eccles. The diary of that Mrs Eccles, mother of the current furniture shop owner, is one of the items stolen by the Kennington Road Burglar. Could the burglar have been seeking clues to the diamond's hiding place? or for substantiation of a claim regarding the inheritance?

While our gentlemen pursued these lines of inquiry, Mrs Salmalin joined Mrs Cuthbert to attempt a seance to locate Sean Malloy. It would be worthwhile to know if he is actually dead and we are dealing either with a post-mortem manifestation of him or some relative with a close enough resemblance to confuse Sergeant Frazer.

Sean Malloy did not answer Mrs Cuthbert's summons. The next course was to attempt a scrying on Sullivan, but we had nothing of his for the Mystics to work with. Edward volunteered to retrieve something, which I thought was a good idea..a good use of Edward's particular talents. Mr O'Flaherty had the cheek to suggest that this was immoral and would lead the child astray. As if anyone could lead that child anywhere! However, his argument found favor with others, and the idea was crushed for the moment. Edward was made to promise not to pursue this course. I happen to know just how futile such a promise is with Edward.

So, we had to try some other ideas for learning more about Sullivan and about the fate of Sean Malloy.

I am writing all this while aboard a train bound for Manchester. Mrs Salmalin and I had already contrived to do a little shopping for birthday gifts for our respective husbands, I had come to her for assistance in finding a particular gift for Mr Frazer, and she confided to me that Mr Salmalin doesn't actually know his birth date. The two of them had agreed to honor the day that he was so dramatically resuscitated after his effort to save Sir Cosmo and Miss Namaste so nearly killed him. Very apt and symbolic, I'm sure, but that gives her very little time to find an appropriate gift. She and I also asked the Marquis to accompany us, as his instincts for shopping have proved unerring in any city.

Sir Cosmo had also decided to send Mr Salmalin with us, to assist us with carriages and so forth (not to mention personal protection).

When we offered to run any little errands for Inspector MacGreggor, we learned that he was about to send Mr Frazer to collect Algibert Timson, hoping that he could identify Sullivan, possibly as Sean Malloy. We could hardly transport a prisoner, so Mr Frazer joined our expedition. This combination of companions does complicate our efforts to shop for gifts, but we can hardly refuse. I think Mr Frazer has just finished the report that he has been writing, so I'd best close this.

Monday, April 3, 1871
(continued–late)

While Mr Frazer handled some various errands (wiring and posting reports, and so forth), Mrs Salmalin and I popped into a bookshop. I found a copy of Mr Darwin's "The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex." A perfect gift for Mr Frazer. The copy I had reserved from the second printing will no doubt be ready by the time we return to London, but I need a copy right now. I will surely find a use for the extra copy.

Mrs Salmalin, in some despair over what to give her notoriously ascetic husband, selected some very practical black socks. She is not entirely satisfied with this gift, and has resolved to think further. I'm afraid I was little help to her. Mr Salmalin is certainly a greater mystery to me than to her.

We rejoined Mr Frazer for an early tea, and then we three went to the courthouse (leaving the Marquis to a discussion with a haberdasher). While Mr Frazer negotiated with the very obliging Manchester Police, Mrs Salmalin and I took another look at the records of Sean Malloy. The death certificate showed no sign of falsification, and the attending Physician is no longer alive to answer our queries. However, further investigation of the circumstances suggested that the diphtheria outbreak in the gaol caused enough chaos for a clever and ruthless man to find and advantage. Malloy could have played dead long enough to escape, or traded places with another inmate who had died.

We met the Marquis at the station at the appointed time, and returned to Bury with our affable prisoner. We saw him safely ensconced in the Bury Gaol for the night, and we took some pains to keep his presence quiet. We had debated taking him to Frederick Shorrock's house to see what he thought of "Sullivan," but decided against it, hoping for better light and a less leading circumstance tomorrow.

So, most lines of investigation are in abeyance until tomorrow. The same four of us are again staying at Dearden House to help secure the ladies' safety. Mr Frazer and I will stay in the study. There is a reasonable comfortable divan here, and a good desk where I have been writing these notes.

Tuesday, 4 April, 1871

That idiot probably still doesn't know what hit him.

Last night, Mr Frazer and I were settled in the study at Dearden House, watching over the safe. We were roused from our quiet musings by a rapping at the window.
It was George, who had gone out at Edward's behest to acquire a relic of Sullivan's (I knew nothing would stop that clever rascal). He had then followed Sullivan here, and was alerting us to his presence just outside the outer door of the conservatory. I dashed upstairs to fetch Mrs Cuthbert and Emily. Mr Frazer and Turgenov went out and around the house, while the other two ladies and I went to the Conservatory through the house door.

We could just make out Sullivan, kneeling beside Mr Shorrock's case, rummaging in the moss. We split up to outflank him. As I approached, I unfortunately upset a flowerpot with my foot. Our quarry started up to face me. He put on what he no doubt thought was a menacing sneer and demanded, "Tell me where the Diamond is!" I simply said, "No." He drew a knife and repeated his demand. I admit I laughed in his face– it was unladylike, but I couldn't help it. This hatchet-faced ruffian was threatening me–a tiny little pregnant woman–with a knife. Little did he know that I had faced a 1600-year-old undead necromancer even uglier that he.

He barely had time to look aggrieved at my laugh when Emily's sword disarmed him, Turgenov knocked his legs out from under him, and Mrs Cuthbert's fireplace poker laid him out. Mr Frazer arrived just in time to catch him as he fell.

We sent word via Sergeant Frazer that we had made a capture. While we awaited Inspector MacGreggor to make the formal arrest, Mrs Cuthbert ascertained that Mr Shorrock was unharmed and I distracted Emily to prevent her from 1) disemboweling our hapless foe or 2) becoming hysterical at the thought of Mr Shorrock in his mossy unclothed state.

Now that we have captured "Sullivan," the Mystics have performed one of their scrying rituals. This has supported many of our hypotheses:
Malloy had taken on the identity of his dead cellmate during the Diphtheria epidemic in the gaol. He had been tried and convicted of his cellmate's crimes, and sentenced to transportation to Australia. This suited his plans perfectly, as it meant that he could again find Horace Shorrock, whom he thought had the Diamond. He no doubt continued to harass the poor man. He later attached himself to young Frederick Shorrock, and urged him to return to England to reclaim an unspecified birthright.

While Frederick Shorrock was in London seeing Solicitors and looking into the apparent disappearance of Nathan Shorrock, Sullivan/Malloy used the time to perpetrate the Kennington Road Burglaries.

While on the train, Sullivan/Malloy had seen Algibert Timson, who had taken him for a ghost. In London, when Malloy took the spoils of his various burglaries to the "fence" Radford, he suggested that Timson would be a suitable person to identify should the Police come around.

Little did Sullivan know that the fright he had given Timson would plant the seed of Timson's alibi.

We have a clear chain of events. Now all we need is real evidence.

(Later)
Evidence item #1: Algibert Timson has quite positively identified "Sullivan" as Malloy.

Evidence item #2: Mr Frederick Shorrock has allowed the Inspector to search "Sullivan's" room, and the diary of Mrs Eccles has been recovered.
Malloy has been placed in Edenfield's gaol, and Mr Frazer has taken Mr Timson back to Manchester to complete the remaining part of his sentence. Inspector MacGreggor wrote a report to commend Mr Timson's cooperation in our investigation, but Mr Timson has insisted that he would prefer not to be released for good behaviour until Sean Malloy has been taken to London.

The Inspector and Mr Frazer have been working on their reports and stirring about for supplemental evidence and statements. There are likely to be a few people in Manchester who can add to the Sean Malloy history. Frederick Shorrock's account of his time in London, and times that "Sullivan" was not with him, fits well with the times of the incidents of burglary.

I have little doubt that we will ultimately get further testimony from Radford, though that may take some work, since the Malloys as a group can be very intimidating.

I have heard that a Mr Gribble, a journalist for the Bury Times, has been poking about asking importunate questions. None of our number, nor anyone at Dearden House, has wished to speak with him. This evening I read the result, in a sensational and indeed rather insulting article. This Gribble decided to interpret our Inspector's "I cannot comment at this time" as "Inspector MacGreggor Baffled!" The same paper had a nasty editorial about Her Majesty's continuing Mourning, which shows the paper to be run by unsympathetic brutes.

Mrs Salmalin and Lady Cowperthwaite have been huddled together over some piece of correspondence for some time now, but frankly I'm too famished to worry about that at this particular moment. I'm sure they'll be asking my advice soon enough.

Wednesday, 5 April, 1871

Despite the completion of the Case, we have been busy.

Mr Shorrock has awakened enough to be moved to a proper bed in a proper room. He is quite weak and groggy. The word is going round that he has returned from Africa early, because of illness. The vicar called on him today, but no other visitors have been permitted to see him. Unfortunately, the leading local physician was just killed in an "unexplained" carriage accident. Fortunately, we know that Mrs Cuthbert has been on the case, and she reports that Mr Shorrock is recovering well.

I finally have had a chance to read over some of Edward's writing assignments from the later part of his time in Scotland. I have marked and corrected the French writings, and Mr Frazer helped me correct the ones in Russian. Drat the child, he's trying to outmanoeuvre me by learning a language I don't know. Fortunately, I have a secret weapon in the person of my husband.

A journalist from the Bury Guardian (the rival paper to the Times) asked politely to interview the Inspector, and was received. I should note that the Guardian is the preferred paper of Lord Greyminster and several of his set in these parts, so I can hope we will get a sympathetic treatment in its pages.

Speaking of Lord Greyminster, he and the redoubtable Lord Shaftesbury are bringing their speaking tour here to Bury.
All of the Household naturally attended the event and the subsequent reception.

I was pleased to finally hear their presentation decrying the Bastardy Law and promoting the charities which endeavour to protect young unmarried mothers. It was perhaps well rehearsed rather than inspiring as rhetoric goes, but the audience was generally sympathetic and eager to show their support for the cause.

I took the opportunity to speak discreetly to Emily on the topic of thoughtless wealthy young men who so often leave young women in difficult conditions. I could be mistaken, but I have detected in her the signs of a very confused incipient tendresse toward, of all men, Lt Wooster.

She was quite enraged by the speeches, and I am not sure if she really understood the gist of my conversation. I would be happy to see her make friends with a sensible young man such as Stuart, but Lt Wooster is about the worst liaison I could imagine. She would probably kill him. I will see what I can do to keep them apart, and perhaps I can warn Mr Caine (though I won't be surprised if he already has a plan).

When I gave Benton his birthday gift this morning, he seemed pleased. But before I could stop myself, I asked if I could read it when he was done. Now he'll think I just gave him something I want for myself. Which I did, but I really do think he will like it too. I can only hope he will forgive me.

Thursday, 6 April, 1871

All has turned out for the best regarding my gaucherie over my husband's book. Last night as we were settling for sleep, he began reading aloud from it, "so we can both enjoy it," he said. The sound of his voice delights me, and we discussed the merits of Mr Darwin's arguments with great interest and amity. My little fishes seemed to like hearing it too, as they were swimming about tickling me as I listened.

I visited Helen today, briefly. She has been working very hard with looking after her father. She reports that he continues to recover. She has been trying to explain to him what has been happening while he has been hibernating.

She says that he spoke to the journalist from the Guardian early today, so perhaps we will read an interesting story about his trip to Africa. Though she says they spoke mostly about the Harrae Diamond.

Inspector MacGreggor and George took Sean Malloy back to London today. They are expected to return on Saturday, in time for Easter festivities.

Friday, 7 April 1871

I visited Dearden House again today. I spoke with Mr Shorrock, and wished him a speedy recovery. He seems to be slowly regaining his mental acuity.

Helen told him that while he had hibernated, the news had broken that I had been writing all Peter Sinclair's papers all these years. He is still rather vague, so I am not sure if he actually grasped the conversation, but he chuckled indulgently, and said, "Clever." He didn't seem to disapprove, at least.

Once Mr Shorrock had tired, and sent us away, I helped Helen with her duties in the Conservatory. It was very companionable. I spoke of her bravery during the fight in the mine, and told her how pleased I was to be her friend. I told her that I could see how essential her labours were to support her father's career. I asked her if she had ever attempted to publish her own writings.

Our conversation meandered thus, and eventually I came round to a generality about the importance of respect from the men in one's life. I spoke generally of meeting Mr Frazer, and how he had so readily accepted my capabilities. I alluded to a somewhat hair-raising trip to the Continent during the abortive war between France and Prussia. I said one learned the mettle of a man under the sorts of conditions we'd seen. All the men in our company had behaved with distinction, and had allowed the women to do the same.

I ventured closer to the subject of the Inspector. I asked her what she thought.

She said, "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course, " I replied (thinking, "at last, her feelings!").

"Can you actually shoot with that little pistol you carry?"

I answered that I was quite a decent shot, and left the other topic alone. Her enigmatic smile suggested that she knew quite well what I was about, and that my intervention was unnecessary.

We shall see.

Saturday, 8 April, 1871

Exercises as usual today. I would have liked to practise with my pistol as well, but the countryside is so quiet, I'm sure it would attract attention and disturb the neighborhood.

Edward is on holiday from most lessons, so I spent a little time in the workshop helping him. He is working to update the workshop to accommodate the types of projects that he and Sir Cosmo have been working on recently.

I wasn't terribly helpful, though. I seem to drop everything. Still, after some three-quarters of an hour, I seemed to find my stride, and I enjoyed having something productive to do. Eventually the noise got the better of me, and I retired to take a stroll in the gardens with the dogs. I heard distinct sighs of relief behind me as I left.

The Inspector and George have returned from London. They reported that Sean Malloy made one escape attempt, and spent the subsequent miles of the journey in an unconscious state.

Lord Greyminster has just arrived, but it is late, and he is no doubt intending to retire straight away. I should put up my pen and retire as well. Benton is looking at me expectantly, Descent of Man in his hands.

Easter Sunday, 9 April, 1871

I was startled awake by a soft step by the door to our rooms, not Benton, who was still beside me. Before I looked around, however, Benton gently grasped my arm to urge stillness. He was smiling. I listened as someone moved about...I could smell chocolate and almond. I smiled, too. It is Easter. No one has left me Easter gifts since I left my home in Bridgwater.

When our benefactor had crept out again, I rose to investigate. There were some very dainty confections, laboriously decorated...I found their scent overpowering and unappetizing at that moment, though I have since eaten one of them with great enjoyment. We have had to hide them from Turgenov, who has a love of sweets, and will hunt them out and devour them until he is sick.

In addition to the sweets, we also each received a gold fountain pen–this is a very clever sort of pen which carries a reservoir of ink within its shaft, so one need not dip into an inkwell continuously to write. Each pen is engraved with one of our names. How extremely generous of Sir Cosmo! How practical!

We rose and dressed in our new finery. My new dress fits well, despite the fact that I feel like I have grown in circumference in just the past few days. Benton has a new waistcoat and cravat, (though they look essentially the same as the older ones in his wardrobe).

Everyone looked splendid as we all came down to breakfast. Mrs Salmalin helped Wilhelmina dress her hair. Mrs Cuthbert and I spent 15 minutes persuading Emily to wear her new dress– she would rather enshrine it, and not risk damage by wearing it.

We proceeded to Easter Services, which were passable. I spoke briefly with Helen, and she said her father's condition continued to improve, and that Miss Shorrock had stayed with him so that the rest of the household could attend Services.

The rest of the day passed quietly, with a pleasant dinner and friendly conversation. Lord Greyminster was in high spirits, and his good cheer was contagious. After dinner, I took a stroll out with Mr Frazer, getting as much fresh air as we could.

Mr Frazer must return to Town tomorrow, his duties await him. I had planned to go as well, but it appears that Edward has persuaded Sir Cosmo that continuing work in the workshop is essential. Sir Cosmo, Lady Cowperthwaite, and their retinue will be staying a bit longer, and therefore so am I. We have a great deal of study to catch up.

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