I count my blessings that my uncle included me at all and I have some freedoms. As my father shows little interest in the estate, I have the freedom to make some changes here and there – but what I see is potential, a great deal of it, heading in two distinct directions; the potential to make more money from the land itself, and the potential to change the Hall for good. What I envisage, or should I say dream of, is parklands, a woodland walk, a lake at the bottom of the valley, a grand entrance, and once and for all to hide away the servants in passageways and tunnels. One cannot create the idea of grandeur to guests when the servants are marching back and forth in plain view.

The grand designs for little Shibden excite me, but their price takes the wind from my sails. I shall start small. I have restored the timber cladding to age the Hall again, increased the wooden wall panelling throughout. I have nearly convinced Father and Aunt that raising the ceiling and adding a staircase in the main hall will greatly improve it. I have more work to convince them yet. Without more money I cannot do much else for now.

Moreover, without more money I cannot travel again for a while. I enjoyed my time in Paris, but my friends have moved on and married. I’ll visit again but it will never be the same. I think I need a big adventure. Something no one else has done; at least not someone from Halifax. I can be remembered as the Lister Explorer.

I find my well-thumbed atlas and open it on a random page. Russia.

Then I remember my poor flower, wilting just a few miles away. Can I really consider leaving her? Or must I wait for her to recover and join me? How much convincing will it take for her to come to Russia with me? It’s taken several months just to get her to York. I decide I will give her a few more months; by my birthday in April I will decide our futures. Or rather, I will give her until then to decide to commit to me or not. If I am going to travel with a companion, I’d like at least to know privately that she is my wife.

Damn Mrs Ainsworth. Fancy falling out of a carriage.

Miss Walker

Miss Lister cannot stop me from crying and I tell her perhaps we should keep our friendship private, a secret even, but she will not hear of it. She gives me an ultimatum: unless I carry on as we were, she does not wish to see me. She tells me she will go travelling, on a two-year expedition, travelling all the way to Russia. Russia of all places! Why does she want to go to Russia? Why will she leave me?