I participated in Defence Exercises today, not with anything like my former vigour, but making a start.
Lessons with Wilhelmina included Drawing and Geography, with both Violet and George joining us as their duties permitted.

In the late morning and through midday, we were back at the dressmakers for more fittings. We also stopped at the stationers and a few other places. I am in short supply of drawing paper.

In the afternoon, I rested and read an article which Mr Scuddamore had sent over. It was a piece by Mr J.C. Burtlethorpe comparing some varieties of day-blooming and night-blooming lilies. I thought it well reasoned and clearly written, except that it seemed to allude to chemical properties of the plants which were then not specified.

Friday, 11 August 1871

I received some good news today. Lady Cowperthwaite tells me that she is expecting a child. She and Mrs Salmalin actually came over to have tea with me and to tell me about it--I didn't have to ferret it out on my own. I didn't even have to guess based on smirking by Mrs Cuthbert. I loaned Lady Cowperthwaite my annotated copy of Thomas Bull's treatise, and invited her to add her own annotations. In time we may have a book of our own which is actually helpful.

The child is expected to make its debut next March or April.

The other interesting news she brought is that she and Sir Cosmo are planning to go by yacht to Africa. Sir Spencer will be also acquiring a yacht, so there will be sufficient space for all our households who wish to travel. Lady Cowperthwaite says that she is very keen to go hunting for big game. I thought this appalling until she indicated that she wants to learn to use a new rifle with a mile of accurate range. I was instantly intrigued. While I am quietly disgusted at the idea of killing animals for sport, I would certainly like to learn to use such a rifle. Not for sport.

I also received interesting information from Helen Shorrock today...I wrote to congratulate her on her courage and her superb presence of mind in her dealings with that nasty stoat, Comte Montelimar, and to apologise for not calling on her and her aunts sooner. Her reply said she would see me at the Embassy ball. She had received an invitation. Imagine that! I can only guess that her ordeal in Gravesend has recommended her to the Ambassador's attention.

Saturday, 12 August 1871

It is becoming unbearably hot in Town.

Helen and I went to the Naturalists Society Library together. I told her about the trip to Africa, and she suggested several books about the areas we propose to visit. Our destination will be the Gold Coast, rather than Mr Shorrock's familiar territory in the South of the continent, but she did have some very useful hints even so. She reminded me that I must prepare myself for a much hotter climate, and far worse biting insects, that anything I have encountered heretofore.

We finally departed the Library when the babies became to noisy and threatened to disturb the naps of the Society members in the Library. I fed the babies in the carriage--the most private area available--and then we all went to my favourite tea shop. The shop girls were in ecstasies about the babies, though one of them was a bit put out when Robert spit up on her.

Over our tea and sandwiches, Helen regaled me with the tale of the ball gown her Aunts had secretly had made for her and brought along to Town. When she had attempted to decline the invitation to the Embassy ball on account of having nothing to wear, they were well prepared to refute her argument. I assured Helen that the Ball would be enjoyable, with all of us, her friends, there to keep good company.

Sunday, 13 August 1871

The custom observed at St Johns grants me freedom from attending services for some weeks more, until I can undergo the "Prayers of Thanksgiving" &c, &c. Mr Frazer brought home a note from our vicar suggesting we plan that event for Sunday, 17 September. With any luck, I will still be away from London.

I spent the afternoon with Benton and Turgenov, we went for a long stroll with the babies (and Violet). It was a little cooler today, especially in the park under the trees. We walked very slowly, because persons of every possible description stopped to greet my husband and admire the children.

Monday, 14 August 1871

Wilhelmina resumed at Lady Ottoline's today, after missing last week due to our work in Portsmouth. She has kept up on her assignments, and I have reviewed her work. When she returned home, she seemed to be counting under her breath, and her feet were twitching, so I surmise she had dancing lessons today.

She seemed to be practising some rather arch mannerisms, I hope they wear off by tomorrow. Her greatest charm is in her natural girlish enthusiasm, and this study of clever society manners, while it cultivates self-control, brings out her precocious superiority in a most distasteful way. I hope the frilly new dress will restore her.

Tuesday, 15 August 1871

Our exercises were later today, as Sir Cosmo and Lady Cowperthwaite were enjoined by their caretakers to stay abed late into the morning, resting for the coming evening's exertions. Edward and I spent a few hours in the schoolroom before I had to send him off to help prepare the carriages, and still leave enough time for Wilhelmina to dress.

M Shafrat, when he personally delivered invitations to the Charles Street establishments, insisted that not only was Wilhelmina invited, with her nanny or governess, but there would be numerous children of various ages, and rooms set aside to entertain them while the adult guests were dancing. Several mothers of infants have been invited, and provision has been made for the comfort of both the mothers and the babes. I find this quite extraordinary, but welcome. It would be impossible for me to attend the Ball without bringing the babies, and if no place were provided, we would have to make shift to find a secure and quiet location for Violet to stay with them. I shall have to discover if this is a French custom, or a peculiarity of this Ambassador and his Vicomtesse.

Wednesday, 16 August 1871
(morning)

It was only knowing that I would wake the babies that kept me from losing my temper.

Our Inspector MacGreggor acted a complete ass at the Embassy Ball last evening, and Benton insisted on arguing his side as we were discussing the evening's events. Only of course he wasn’t arguing, he was speaking in that infuriatingly reasonable voice.

Inspector MacGreggor was invited to the Ball. All of us, even Wilhelmina, were invited, with no apparent concern for our ordinary places in society. The Inspector decided that this meant it was a trap for us. He decided that it meant that he was “on duty.” He would not dance or even pretend that he was having a good time. He completely cut Helen, and when I asked him if he was doing it intentionally, he only answered, “I am on duty.” That did not answer my question!

It’s not as if the rest of us were completely insensible of the possible danger. Does he think we are stupid? Lazy? Incompetent? All of us were alert, and ready to act quickly if anything happened. Which it did, but that is not the point. The Inspector was being so rude that he drew the attention not only of our party but of our Host and Hostess.

Poor Helen was standing at the wall, playing the shy violet. She declined to dance with several gentlemen, saying her card was full. When I stood by her, I could see that her prospective partners were none other than Sir Latimera Chalumnae, Lord Protopterus Annectens, and that new fellow, the Hon Mr Neoceratodus Forsteri. I could hardly let that pass. I nudged Benton, and he immediately asked her for a dance, and she accepted. She dances perfectly well. Sir Cosmo and Lt Wooster danced with her as well. I suppose she simply doesn’t enjoy dancing with total strangers.

The Inspector continued his preoccupation even after the reason for his invitation was made clear. He and Benton and Mr O’Flaherty were all presented with medals for "Service to the French Empire, Civilisation and History". It seems the Ambassador was well pleased with our assistance in removing his enemy Comte Montelimar from action. Unfortunate that our celebration was slightly premature, but that could not be helped. We quickly rectified the error as soon as it was brought to our attention, and the troublesome Comte is at least somewhat more dead that he was before.

Of course, I missed the excitement. When Mme deVere stole that crystal trinket from the Ambassador's party toy, and various members of our party were in pursuit of her, I had just gone to feed the babies. I was quietly ensconced in the private chamber our Hostess had allotted to that purpose, with Violet on hand to assist me, when Benton came to warn me that something was afoot. He joined our partisans and the Vicomte and his Embassy guards in a pell-mell race to the roof. I could take no action, as Caroline had finished on the right and Robert was just getting started on the left. I could hardly disengage him now, and if I did, I would be awkwardly lopsided. It was only when I heard gunfire, some minutes later, that the milk stopped and I could get free. Even then, it was some minutes before my clothing was settled again and I could climb out of the window to assess the situation.

I was just in time to see Mr Salmalin plummeting from the roof 5 storeys above, holding the ankle of Mme deVere. As I watched, Mme deVere transformed herself into an owl and flew off. Mr Salmalin did not seem able to right himself to land on his feet. George leaped off the building and somehow fell faster than Mr Salmalin (I see my friends defy the accepted laws of Nature on a regular basis, I suppose I should be accustomed by now). George got hold of Mr Salmalin and landed on his feet, absorbing the impact of the landing. There were very deep indentations in the flower beds, but George was able to step out and set Mr Salmalin gently on the ground.

I shot at the owl, as did Sir Spencer, but she did not fall. We went off to search for any sign that we had winged her. Sir Spencer seemed somewhat perturbed at having to shoot as his niece--he had held his fire for as long as he could, I think, until he was quite sure that she was truly a menace to Our partisans. Once he was decided, however, he set about her capture with grim determination.

When we returned, empty handed but for a few feathers, I learned what else had occurred.

This set-to began with the exhibition of a rare artifact for the enjoyment of the guests at the party. This artifact was a clockwork swan in silver and gold. It was made (so the Ambassador told us at length) in the 15th Century by an artificer serving the Pope of the time as a gift for the King of France. This King, Charles II, had given up his only daughter to a convent when she was identified as a "living saint" with powers of prophecy. He was so saddened to be parted from her that this artificer created this swan so he could "communicate" with his daughter despite the distance between them. The Ambassador demonstrated this device by inviting guests to ask questions of this alleged prophetess' spirit. It answered all questions with the sort of vague pronouncements that all prophetic sources (especially absolute charlatans) share.

When the swan had finished its answers, it was taken off through a side door, presumably to be locked in some secure vault. Mrs Cuthbert noticed that Mme deVere, who had attended the Ball in the company of Admiral von Klink, followed through the door. Mrs Cuthbert and Lady Cowperthwaite decided to follow. Several members of our party followed at intervals, and were variously vexed by closed doors and confused guards. In the end, it was Mrs Salmalin, Inspector MacGreggor, and Sir Cosmo who found the swan, surrounded by the sleeping forms of several guards, Mrs Cuthbert, Lady Cowperthwaite, and Mr Salmalin; Mme deVere had opened the swan and removed a crystal component, described as 8" long and slender, a glowing green in colour. She had then proceeded up the shaft of a dumbwaiter, and she was followed that way by Mr Salmalin.

All of our partisans not already involved were alerted, and also the Ambassador. The Mystics sensed something transpiring above, which caused a race up all stairways to the roof. The Ambassador must have told the orchestra to play louder to cover the sounds of the ensuing fracas. Most of the guests had no idea that anything out of the ordinary was occurring.

When our partisans came up to the roof, Mme deVere had already thrown Mr Salmalin off the roof once. She was exchanging arrogant comments with the Comte Montelimar, who had appeared. alive and seemingly well, to try to steal the crystal as well. As he and Mme deVere we gathering their mystical powers to battle one another, our partisans came upon them. Mrs Salmalin seems to have somehow shunted away most of that power, leaving the Comte vulnerable to bullets, and the coup de grace of an Etheric Pulse shot from Wilhelmina--that was the gunfire I had heard. The Ambassador appeared promptly and announced that, in compliance with the French Empire's warrant regarding Comte Montelimar, he was to be executed. His scorched and bullet-ridden corpse was quickly beheaded, which the Ambassador seems sure will actually keep him dead. This struck me as the knowledge born of experience. Interesting.

Mme deVere, meanwhile, was teetering on the edge of the roof arguing with Mrs Cuthbert when Mr Salmalin climbed back up the wall and grabbed her ankle. She responded by stabbing him with the crystal, and the two of them fell. It was at this point that I emerged from the window, to see the fall of Mr Salmalin, the transformation of Mme deVere, and the mid-air rescue by George.

After all this was concluded, Sir Cowperthwaite and Lady Cowperthwaite, Mr and Mrs Salmalin, and Mrs Cuthbert went home. I stayed with Mr Frazer, as I had scarcely had any opportunity to dance. Wilhelmina and Emily stayed as well, since Wilhelmina was also anxious to have some more dancing, and there were still a few gentlemen of close enough acquaintance with whom she could appropriately dance. It's not every day that a young girl is invited to such a prestigious event. I was inclined to indulge her, especially in view of the particular efforts our hostess had made to accommodate young people and women with infants. Such a kind condescension should be rewarded by full appreciation. Miss Helen stayed as well, perhaps still hoping for a dance with Inspector MacGreggor. That gentleman did not ask her or anyone else. She accepted a few more dances with gentlemen she knew before she retired for the evening.

Lt Wooster, spurred perhaps by misguided chivalry or by too much drink, asked Emily to dance. I tried to steer him away and to assure Emily that she did not have to dance with anyone, and that it was inappropriate for him to impose upon her this way. Despite this, in evident social confusion, Emily accepted. She danced passably well, except that she would not meet Lt Wooster's gaze at all. I recognised, with horror, the behaviour as that of a shy girl infatuated with a man she considers beyond her reach. Emily, for whatever reason, has developed a tendre for the Leftenant. She is as skittish around him as with any man, and yet she does not rebuff him. I have tried to make it clear that no man of quality has a right to press her with attentions or to seek her favours.

Of all the men for her to fall for! This man, the most insensitive and frivolous of my acquaintance, toying with the most tenuously balanced woman I know. She has no basis for understanding just how careless he is of her reputation and happiness, and he has no conception of how seriously he can harm her with his flighty attentions. And he has no idea of how seriously she might harm him if he breaks her heart! This is not to be trifled with! And yet, my female colleagues seem to think it's harmless and romantic, and are ready to wish them joy. I suppose I should expect nothing else, considering that cross-class romance seems to be a specialty here. But they fail to consider the profound difference between a Sir Cosmo or a Mr Salmalin, both loyal and of surpassing understanding, and a Lt Wooster, who is...not. Also the differences between a Namaste Chigwidgeon or a Victoria Whitnell, both sure of their own worth and approaching the social hazards of their relationships with eyes open, compared to an Emily Bertilde, not sure of anything except her sword, afraid of men, and not remotely fortified against either the inconstancy of a lover or the scorn of his family. What can I do? Perhaps Caine can help. At least Lt Wooster will be leaving to take his ship to France shortly. With any luck, he will forget all about Emily before any further harm is done.

Well, I cannot sit here writing anymore, I have lessons to do with Edward or Wilhelmina, and later I have calls to pay and packing to do.

Wednesday, 16 August 1871
(continued--evening)

Our Households' removal to Lancashire has been forestalled for a day or two to give various of us (especially Mr Salmalin) further opportunity to recuperate before the strains of moving. We are expecting to make our migration on Friday.
We had Defence exercises with Emily today. I am feeling better than I have for the past few days, except that my feet are tired--my new shoes are not sufficiently softened to allow an entire evening of dancing and climbing.

I did some of my packing for the exodus from Town. Fortunately, Violet is handling most of the packing for the babies, and my Mother is helping (Violet says she really is helpful, too--she raised three children, after all, and knows what's needed). Unfortunately, Mother has declared her intention of coming to Lancashire with us. Not that she did so in so many words, of course, she just dropped her usual deft hints until Sir Cosmo invited her. I really must write to Father to see if he can convince her to go home.

Lessons consisted of penmanship and composition with Wilhelmina, wherein we wrote notes to the hosts of Last Evening's party and to all the gentlemen who so kindly condescended to dance with us. Emily crept into the parlour where we were working, and waited for us to finish before she begged leave to ask a startling question: "Are Edward and Wilhelmina really, um, the same person?" I have some time since concluded that either Emily has grasped the secret and is keeping quiet, or would never grasp it at all. It would appear that I was wrong in both cases. I explained the reason for the appearance of Edward, and Wilhelmina explained that she maintains Edward's existence for the freedom of action he provides. Emily did not appear to be alarmed by these revelations, nor yet put out that she had not been informed ere now. I cannot guess what prompted this sudden flash of understanding, but I can hope that Emily will be able to protect the secret to Wilhelmina's satisfaction. Especially since I urged Wilhelmina to tell her as soon as I knew, but Wilhelmina insisted that Emily could not keep it mum. I would like to see Wilhelmina be wrong (without any explosive results), she needs taking down a peg.

This afternoon I called on Helen and her Aunts.

The strangest thing happened. I had meant to talk with Helen about Inspector MacGreggor, to find out how she felt about him, to comfort her if she had been hurt by his cut at the Ball, perhaps even go so far as to suggest that it was just as well to forget about him. But as we spoke, I found that I was explaining his actions, telling her that he had thought himself on duty, that I didn't think he had intended to slight her, but that his sense of his duty tends to override his more personal interests. I even gave her fair warning of how protective the Inspector could be under certain circumstances (alluding as delicately as I could to his treatment of me since the later stages of my Condition). I had also told her that he was unusually forward-thinking and would respect the intelligence and abilities of any woman who might marry him.

She mentioned that she had received a note from him, but she did not show it to me, she only told me it said something about his duty and that my comments had clarified its meaning somewhat. I am left unsure as to her feelings--she is very reserved in these matters. I can understand it. Having been left unwed for so long myself, I understand how one guards oneself against hopes and the speculations of others. I can say that if the Inspector cuts her again, for any reason, I will personally kick him. Hard.

My other call proved equally strange. I visited Admiral von Klink. I wasn't sure if he would even receive me, but he did, and we had a very amiable conversation. I thanked him for his help in the fight at the drydock, and also for his kindness when I was stuck in his submersible at the onset of my travails. We talked about his submersible and his seagoing career, and about Mme deVere. We commiserated about the mischief she had caused us, and reflected on the help she had given as well. He did not seem terribly surprised that she had fled without so much as a fare-thee-well to him. I commented that he hadn't seemed much shocked at her more unusual talents, such as turning boys into dragons--I was fishing to discover if he had had previous exposure to such things, but I didn't learn anything conclusive. We parted with kind assurances and hopes for future meetings.

One of the interesting developments of the Embassy Ball is a new treaty signed with the Netherlands in the back rooms while the rest of us were dancing. Because they were raising such a fuss about their "untersee" boat, they have been given further information about the Island of Kor and why no one is permitted to conduct research in the area. This could only be done if they signed on to the Treaty with Kor, promising to keep its existence a secret. They will give up their interests in the area and England will give back the boat (which was fairly salvaged, whatever the Dutch contend), and officially apologise for any misunderstanding as to its salvage. The fact that Prince Lukas of Florin is their official envoy seems to take some of the sting out of being required to apologise for something we didn't do--he's such a likeable fellow. No doubt this disarming mien is exactly why a relatively small nation would send him as an envoy.

Thursday, 17 August 1871

Exercise and Defence lessons went well today. I then joined our friends at No. 12 for breakfast, and ate a surprising portion of cooked eggs. Lactation is nearly as demanding as gestation, it seems.

I have some time free this morning, as Sir Cosmo is taking Wilhelmina to visit an Aunt on the Moriarty side. She is out in Surrey in a Sanitarium there. I offered to go, but was enjoined to stay home with the babies. I was not inclined to dispute this suggestion, as I have had so few undisturbed days to observe my very interesting new subjects.

Today I replied to a note received yesterday from Professeur Emile Balar, whom I met at the Embassy Ball. In his note, he asked for my permission to translate the Moth Paper into French. Why did I not think of that myself? I didn't imagine it would receive such wide attention outside of England, but there it is. I responded to Prof Balar that I had planned to translate them myself, but that I would be honoured if he would consent to be the first to review the translation for accuracy.

I am delighted with the prospect of translating my most recent papers into French and into German. It will be a good exercise for my technical language, and give me something productive to do until I can do further fieldwork of my own.

(evening)
This afternoon, I accompanied Lady Cowperthwaite and Sir Spencer on an outing to look at some of those long-range rifles that Sir Spencer has been filling our heads with. Not only am I interested in the guns myself, but I thought it would be best to have another lady along, since Sir Spencer's exclusive company might not improve Lady Cowperthwaite's reputation in Society (and she cares not a bit, so won't take care to observe any proprieties on her own behalf).

My coming along freed Mrs Salmalin to help with the preparations to depart, allowing her moreover to keep an eye on her husband so he wouldn't do further damage to his wounds. This also allowed her to receive a visit from her younger brother, James Whitnell. Our outing was satisfactory, and Lady Cowperthwaite has ordered some of the rifles to be delivered to Edenfield.

When Sir Cosmo and Wilhelmina returned from Surrey, I read a paper they brought back with them, featuring an article by that idiot Ronald Fingleton. He asserts that the Moriarty criminal network is presently under the control of "a child." This so-called reporter, whom I suspect may be the author of the notes I received last week, has been dismissed from the Echo by the new management, and so has found another venue for his nonsense. Still, I could not fathom how he could contrive such twaddle without some inspiration from truth. So, I took the article and showed it to the second best informed source, and the one most likely to answer me truthfully: Mr Frazer.

He seemed to know all about it, but had not even thought to keep me informed. Apparently, the Actuary has been making overtures to Wilhelmina to resume control of the Cobb's organisation as her Grandfather's heir, and pursuant to that, she has been meeting with him to give instructions. This filled me with alarm, until I realised that one of the most law-abiding persons I know was telling me the story, and he didn't seem upset. Apparently, Wilhelmina has been instructing the Actuary to shift the Organisation's assets from illegal to legal investments. She has insisted on pensioning all the prostitutes to give them a less hazardous livelihood and to prevent them from simply being pressed into service by some even more dreadful procurer. She has sought advice and assistance from Sir Cosmo, and apparently from Mr Frazer. Perhaps I should have more faith in Wilhelmina, that she would remember the difficult lessons of her early childhood, but after all, children rarely have the empathy or the foresight to recognise the possible future impact of their actions on others. And lest we forget, Wilhelmina is rarely interested with the rule of law per se.

Friday, 18 August 1871

We have arrived at Edenfield Court. While not all of the League came out with us, we had more than enough people and baggage to create a circus. The Cowperthwaites and most of their staff, Edward, George, Emily, Mr and Mrs Salmalin, Mrs Cuthbert, Sir Spencer, Violet, the Babies and myself, as well as my Mother. We also included the Shorrock ladies in our train, since Mr Shorrock is still not quite recovered to come and escort them. The elder Shorrock ladies have still not forgiven Inspector MacGreggor, I think, since Miss Shorrock asked (with a disdainful sniff) if he would be with us and only accepted Sir Cosmo's invitation to join us when she was told that the Inspector would be remaining in Town for the time being.

Mr Frazer is still in Town as well, working on reports and updating his catalog of criminals. I hope that he will be able to join us for some weekends. I might also come back to Town a time or two, if Sir Cosmo has reason to bring Edward back to work at the shipyards here at some point. I also still have hopes of a short trip to Bridgwater in a few weeks, to show my babies to their Grandfather (the living one, that is). Traveling now takes more time and planning, and causes me more aggravation, since I must take the babies and Violet everywhere with me.

I just hope that this stay at Edenfield will be less eventful that last year's.

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