There were references to Griselda. She was mentioned on every page. There were intimate little details. ‘Griselda curled my hair in rags last night. I found it hard to sleep for them, but Griselda said I must keep them in so that I had curls next day.’ ‘Griselda has put a blue fichu on my white dress. It looks rather pretty.’ There were accounts of assemblies she had been to. She wrote of her dread of them, her painful shyness. I went on reading until I came to the entry about Dickon.
Today I met the most handsome man I have ever seen. He is in London from the country where, my father says, he owns a large estate. He asked me to dance and I did … most awkwardly. He said he wasn’t much of a dancer either and he didn’t mind my mistakes at all. He talked a great deal, so cheerily and wittily. I couldn’t keep up with him. My father was very pleased.
Yesterday my father sent for me and I knew he had something very serious to say because he called me ‘Daughter’. ‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘you have a suitor.’ Then he told me it was Richard Frenshaw. It is that wonderful man who danced with me. I don’t know how I feel. I am in a panic and yet it might have been that horrible old Lord Standing. Instead it is this wonderful, handsome man. ‘But,’ I said to Griselda, ‘at least Lord Standing would not have minded that I am not clever and that my hair will not curl unless it is all night in rags, and that I stumble when I dance and am shy.’ Griselda said, Nonsense. He would be lucky to get me, and he knew it. I had a great fortune coming to me and that was when men liked. Moreover she would always be with me. That was my great comfort.
There were several entries about the clothes which were being made and the announcement of the engagement at a ball given by her father. There were meetings with Dickon—brief and never alone. And then the entry: ‘Tomorrow I am to marry Richard Frenshaw.’
Evidently after that she had not written in it for a long time. Then there were the brief entries.
‘This afternoon it rained and there was some thunder.’ ‘Went to the Charletons’ ball.’ ‘We had a dinner party for twenty.’ Just bald statements with very little hint of what she was feeling. Then it changed.
Another disappointment. Shall I ever achieve my heart’s desire? If I could have a little baby it would make up for everything. Dickon wants a boy. All men do. I wouldn’t mind what it was … just a baby. That’s what I want.
I saw Dr Barnaby today. He said there should be no more pregnancies and that he should speak to my husband. I begged him not to. I told him how much having a child meant to me. He shook his head and kept saying, ‘No. No.’ Then he said: ‘You have tried and failed. You did your best. Now, no more.’ They don’t understand, I must have a child. If I don’t I shall have lost Dickon completely. It is the only way.
There is to be another chance. Griselda will be angry. She hates Dickon because of this. It is silly of her, but then she is silly sometimes. I know it is only because of her feeling for me, but she is so difficult. She gets so anxious and worried. She frightens me. I haven’t told her yet. I haven’t told anyone. I want to be sure. I am determined this time my child will be born.
They know. Dickon is delighted. That makes me so happy. He takes a lot of notice of me and makes me take care of myself. I could be happy if only … But it will be all right this time. It must be.
Dr Barnaby has been today. I have had a long talk with him. He is concerned about my condition. He says he should not have allowed me to dissuade him from speaking to my husband. ‘However,’ he said, ‘it is done. You must be very careful. You must rest and rest. If you can get through the first three months we can still hope.’
Three months … and all is well. How I long for the time to pass. Every morning I awake and I say to myself rather like someone in the Bible: ‘I am with child. God be praised.’
