28 April 1870, Thursday
<Later>
The day was quite peaceful until the post arrived! In amongst the numerous letters for Miss Chigwidgeon was a letter from Mr. Ditteridge inviting us to come to his Grandfather’s estate to help sort out the late Baron’s affairs.
My trunks are packed. I limited myself too two– one entirely taken up with my Great-Aunts mystical paraphernalia. I feel as if I have tried to pack my father’s entire lab into one trunk! I seemed to have traded one vocation for another with no reduction in the amount of tools I must cart around. Mrs Cuthbert was too taken up with talking to Owen to be much help in my packing. Tattvik came home very tired from her lessons at Lady Ottoline’s school and insisted on helping me pack my clothes. I declined her help and sent her off to bed. She may be young but she still needs her sleep. Besides, if I am truly going to her allow her time to concentrate on her new studies I will need to learn again how to fend for myself. We talked briefly as I put her to bed but she was asleep before I reached the door. I miss having her at my side each day...
Miss Sinclair has become my corset partner– we frequently dress at the same time. She has become quite a convert to my reform costume and had the sense to think of making up a bag to carry with her at all times so as to facilitate quick movement between clothing others approve of and clothing we approve of. I have loaned her one of my turkish trouser sets and she and I are both intent on making more. That reminds me, I had planned to ask Lady Ottoline for the name of her seamstress and shoemaker. I hope to facilitate designing clothes that can be worn in pubic and are more appropriate for the continual adventures we seem to be falling into. I will try to set and appointment with Lady Ottoline after we return from Liverpool that will allow me to address this matter as well as to find out how Tattvik is doing in her classes.
Between the ball and packing for our trip, I have had very little time to read the books that Mr. Ramsey sent over. I wish he were coming with us as I keep coming up with questions at the strangest times. I sent a note round to the Library asking if he knew of a way to observe the effect of a spell cast in the past but I did not receive a reply. We will be gone before the first post tomorrow so I will have to satisfy my curiosity upon our return to London.
Mr Salmalin has taken to his new duties as if he had been with the household for years and not days. I caught a good look at him when Edward was showing him the clockwork carriages. He was listening attentively to our young charge and I could not help but notice how well he looks now that he is returned to health.
It is odd, but I had so much more to say to him when he was a captive in our basement. I struggled to find words to say when he was in hospital and now I think it is because he is a very hard man to lie to– the reassuring platitudes one uses in most such occasions lay like lead on my tongue– holding my speech captive. I see in him a calm and surety that I envy. My life has been turned upside down by events since my father’s death and on days like today I struggle to find my way, my role, in these events. There is so much that I do not know and what I used to know seems to be of very little use in my new situation.
I was reminded of all this partly by news I received from home. Both Mother and Anne wrote to me. Anne to say that she is expecting her third child. She was a little girl when I left with William for India, ten years later she is a mother of soon-to-be, God-willing, three children. What do I have to show for those ten years? Right now, being able to speak Hindi with some fluency seems a rather large price to pay for all that I have missed with my family.
At the same time, I find the members of the League of the Golden Clematis to be very congenial, even extra-ordinary people and I fear that our on-going adventures will not allow me to commit myself to be at Anne’s side when the time comes for her to be delivered or, realistically, to spend much more time with any of my family than I did when I was in India. Without my Father’s companionship and understanding I do find some of my family nearly unbearable. The difficulty of living with Mother, John, and Emily after Father’s death is still fresh in my mind. I do not want to return to being a dependant in that household.
I also received a letter from my Mother that confirms Anne’s report that Mother is rather adrift in the wake of Father’s death and Emily and John’s new role as head of the family. I advised Anne to get Mother out to visit some of our family friends who never come to London for the Season and are always good company. I think I should also consult with Our Employer to see if Mother might be told that Father’s death was not accidental... I do not know how she might respond but I am coming to think that the truth might be of some help to her condition.
Well... the packing is done and I should put aside my papers for some sleep tonight as tomorrow we take up a new headquarters at an estate in Liverpool that will be on loan to us for the duration of our inquiries.
29 April 1870, Friday
We have settled in for the night at the estate of Lord Haslingdon. I spent the train journey reading one of the books that Mr Ramsey loaned me and sleeping in the warm sunlight that filled the railcar. I unpacked and settled into my new room and then spent the evening watching Sir Cosmo assemble his duplicating machine. A fascinating device! Even after all my naps on the train I am quite sleepy– I fear I may have a restless night in a new house– with each new creak and clonk bringing me awake again. I did make it out to the stables before retiring and hope for an early morning ride before breakfast.
30 April 1870, Saturday
We are back from our ride and have had a wonderful breakfast prepared by Lord Haslingdon’s staff. What a nice way to start the day! I had forgotten how invigorating it is to ride first thing in the morning. I had a lovely horse that gave me a bit of trouble at the start and only served to remind me how many days it had been since I had ridden. I choose to take advantage of our relative privacy to ride astride, something I could never do at home and something I greatly missed. I feel that I have much greater control over a horse and can’t really see why any woman of good sense would choose to ride side-saddle. Mrs Cuthbert and Miss Sinclair joined me on the ride and Mr Salmalin supervised Miss Chigwidgeon’s introduction to the sport.
We did have a tiny mishap and a reminder that we are here on an assignment. The mishap was that the horse that Miss Chigwidgeon rode out on was spooked by a feral guinea pig. It was only a mishap because Mr. Salmalin was there and was able to pull Miss Chigwidgeon from the saddle before the horse took off with her. Though he was clear in giving me a report that Miss Chigwidgeon had acquitted herself admirably in staying on the rearing animal and refusing to give into panic. She was a bit wobbly in the knees by the time I got to her but once Mr Salmalin returned with her horse she was quite game to climb back in the saddle for the return trip home. I took the precaution of taking the reins myself as I am sure Sir Cosmo would be quite vexed with me if Miss Chigwidgeon came to any harm through my actions.
The reminder came from Miss Sinclair. Each of us had ridden slightly apart on the way out and she had stumbled across two people having a suspicious conversation. A man of the late Baron’s family seemed to be asking the servant of another estate to warn him when a certain person returned by train. Miss Sinclair, even with her amazing hearing, was only able to catch a few words from each person but there seemed to be very little reason to doubt her supposition. The League discussed the unexpected intelligence over breakfast but determined that we would need more information in order to take any action.
Now I have finished dressing for the day and I hear Mr Caine and Mr Salmalin rounding everyone up for the short drive over the Scarisbrick Estate. I am not looking forward to parts of the investigation to come but it seems that not all the malice in the house came from Paolo and Iota. There is work to be done yet.
Proceed to 5. The Blood Drained from His Face
Return to Miss Whitnell's Diary Index
Contents this page copyright 2001 by Kristin Fontaine. All Rights Reserved.