But Mariana is out of my reach now, and who is left but Miss Walker? She who will be here at two o’clock with her handsome face and shy demeanour and polite conversation. On our short stroll last week, it did not take long for her to confess to me that she does not wish to marry a man, clearly wanting to align herself to my own spinsterhood. Or something else? I tried my luck with a kiss. I believe she will make a good companion, if nothing else. I am forty-one years old and I fear she is my last chance. It is not that I am heartless, but the practicalities of my situation seem to have come to the forefront of my thoughts these days. I feel I have wasted some twenty years or more pursuing this woman or that, and forever being spurned; and though I have enjoyed my adventures, the clock ticks on and my diary pages fill up and I am still a spinster whose fear is that I will be alone and unloved, and never achieve happiness.

From now on I will try to thrust myself into work on the Hall and estate and embed myself in Halifax life and society, though some days I just want to run out of the door, through the courtyard, down the lane and head… where? I know not. Some days I dream of being anywhere but here. But this new acquaintance at least gives me something to think upon. Could Miss Walker be a reason to stay?

Miss Walker

My heart races already and I still have an hour before I leave for Shibden. She has a power over me. I fear her and long for her in equal measure. I fear for how I will act, what I will say. I fear I will blush and my aunt will see it written across my face that I have let this woman kiss me. That I have let her kiss me passionately. That I did not resist but kissed her back, for in her presence I feel more alive than I have ever felt. Her confidence radiates and envelops me and gives me a strength I can only remember from when I was very young. Before… before life took hold of me.