My money runs low as this extravagant trip and fine rooms and my new dress have been costly, and my diary reads woefully despite the foreign shores and new experiences. I feel as if I have seen it all before. I am not excited by it. Perhaps I need to go farther afield to really interest me again, avoid these modern cities which all seem similar to each other, with the same sorts of restaurants, theatres, dance halls, hotels; the carriages are the same, even fashions are similar and still fail to interest me.

I feel like a cork floating on the surface of the sea, unanchored, directionless; I can no longer see the coastline. I no longer know which way is home.

Would it be different if I were not alone? Would this be better if I had someone to share it with? It seems I am collecting experiences just to fill my diary, which may never be read, or shared, or appreciated. I long for someone to join me, not just for this trip, but for my life. If I am not to be blessed with love, then surely I cannot also be cursed to be left alone for the rest of my life as well? I need a companion.

Miss Walker

Like a ghost that will not leave me in peace, Mr Ainsworth rears his ugly head again. He has the audacity to write to my brother-in-law, the equally intolerable Sutherland, recommending he suggest I take him up on his proposal. The snake! Of course, both my sister and Sutherland are naive about him and think it a wonderful idea, but the letter, and Sutherland’s menacing idea to read it aloud at dinner with guests, makes me flee from the room. Men are so cruel, doubly so Mr Ainsworth and Sutherland! Where can I go in the world to be protected from them, away from their gaze and meddling intentions?

My sister knows there is more to my reaction. She does not press the matter, but a week passes before Sutherland gives us any privacy. Finally, with the children in bed and the two of us alone, I tell my sister what happened when I was seventeen. When I told Miss Lister she was angry, but she did not know me at that time; for my sister, it brings back memories and explains why she had to see me in such a state. She tells me I should have told her, that she would have understood, she would have protected me, and after much apologising and sobbing, we swear to tell each other everything from now on. After imagining what has gone on these last five years in this house, we are up all night as she tells me what it has been like; nothing is secret between us any more. Except, of course, my true relations with Miss Lister. For why need I tell her of that? Miss Lister is gone from my life forever.