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angry

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I really want to go to tea in Caerleon today and spend some time with Cassie and maybe talk to Addie as well, but I can’t take Alma with me, and if Saint-Germain puts on a theatrical today, I don’t want Alma to be alone in the middle of that.

The worst of it is I wouldn’t be surprised if that girl really did sleep with von Thorwald’s son but I don’t think she liked it, she wouldn’t be here if she had. It must have been very difficult for her to get away, if she was a conqueror’s mistress. Especially after her teacher took advantage of her as well. Reynard Saint-Germain says that didn’t happen, but men always believe each other, even if it’s someone they care about that it’s happening to. James wouldn’t have believed me if his friends hadn’t told him about it. And nobody believes that our Rasputin raped Allegra Crumb except me. Well, and Katya, but she’s his sister. She knows him.

Colette Saint-Germain has no idea what men are really like even though she’s certainly willing to let them put whatever they want in her. I’m sure she wouldn’t have been able to say no to one of the von Thorwalds, either—but she got out, and she’s lucky she did.

The things I want to say to people. But I don’t. Still, Cassie needs me. Also, I have a few things I want to say to my cousins, the Misses Pritchard and Flint. They ought to have noticed that Callie Lovelace’s parents and brother died, too. She and Ambrose at least have each other, but other than that they can’t be doing much better than Cassie is.

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resolute

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A certain fat whore and her anorexic shadow have exhausted the depths of my patience. Alma is my friend. I don’t care if they like her or not. I don’t care what they think about it, either. I don’t know what I’m going to be like in sixth form, but...not that.

I think I’m going to Robbie’s memorial tonight. I know Cassie hates me and has since about second year, and I can’t even say that I don’t deserve it, because I would hate me if I were her, but James is right, for once in his life: we just have to go. I don’t even know why I feel this way, but I’m going to surprise James and go with him. It’s not like Hawkwood would even have any idea who Robbie Campion was.

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sad

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I got a letter from Mother this morning and in it she said that Medmenham Abbey has burnt. I hope this is not her dread vengeance on Endymion, because the Tatler was more than enough, but I gather it was something of a surprise, so probably not. She heard it from the Walsinghams, where Maria was staying. I hardly know what to think. I don’t know if the house is destroyed or not, I don’t know if the catacombs have been destroyed, and I don’t know what happened to Lord and Lady Dashwood—Mother thinks they’ve probably died, which means Maria’s in a fix, for she hasn’t anyplace else to stay but with the Walsinghams, and she’ll have to delay her wedding again on account of being in mourning. Unless she goes to stay with the Ozzer, but if she were going to do that, why get engaged to Willy at all?

I wanted the Abbey badly. Am I to get nothing I wanted at all? I should say something to Endymion, but I don’t know what to say. It’s not as though he loved them. Also, I’m still perturbed that my first thought was to wonder if Mother or Grandfather had anything to do with it.

Apparently the reason Mother confiscated the last Light of the Home is that Portia Parkinson is in it; Miranda Haskell has a copy. Mother hates her because she used to give parties for Nicodemo Malaspina, whom she says practically destroyed my father’s career. Which is a lot of rubbish. Father and Grandfather did that all by themselves. It’s not Nicodemo Malaspina’s fault they left it where he couldn’t help but walk into it. What was he supposed to do, walk around with it stuck to the soles of his shoes? I like Portia Parkinson, although it’s Lalage I admire; she gets what she wants, just like I will someday.

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sore

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Today is the first day of school. Despite the fact that this is Claudia’s second year, she is still whooping it up in the hall outside like a mad thing. I can see haloes around all the gaslights, and when I think about food my stomach lurches. I want to pull the bedclothes up over my head, take laudanum and sleep until I’m dead or this headache is.

I am so looking forward to taking the train to school, dealing with the danelaw, and being stared at by everyone who didn’t have the chance to stare at me at the Vieiras’ ball. I wonder if I can get a cubicle all to myself and darken the windows and silence it. I wanted to sit with Alma and Miranda. I really did. But I think they’d prefer not to have to silence themselves and sit in the dark, though I’d appreciate the honour guard right now.

I hope to God my mother doesn’t ask me if I’m pregnant. There is nothing worse than trying to explain to that woman that if I’m pregnant she had best get right with God, because it’s going to be the second coming.

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uncomfortable

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I need to push Miranda harder to tell me what she heard about Alma’s engagement. I’m worried about her. With her family’s reputation being what it is, anyone her parents would think of betrothing her to is not someone I would want on my dance card for more than a quarter of an hour.

Even more worrying is the way my mother is slinking around the house looking incredibly pleased-with-herself. Especially after she told me Thomas Endymion was going to get what he deserved for embarrassing me like that.

They’re never going to see the knife coming. But I will get to see their expressions when it slips through their guard.

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confused

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The party at Cynthia’s house could have been much more horrible than it was, but I did not want to go to the after-party at Prue’s house. I should have gone, because Antares is going, and he will almost certainly do something he is going to regret. But I don’t care as long as I don’t know about it, and since Barty and Cynthia are helping her parents clean up, it will degenerate even more quickly than usual.

Dashwood and Kyteler said they were going to leave early, but they stayed to the bitter end of things. I couldn’t be seen leaving before they did, but I had a good time when I was with Antares, even though some of Cynthia’s guests were beastly.

James was there but he didn’t speak to me. He’s probably gone back to Tante Sophy’s house. He disappeared for a while and when he came back he looked like he’d just had it off with some tart. I didn’t see Cordelia Hawkwood there, but she is a Vieira poor relation; she might have been upstairs looking after the little ones. James thinks I don’t know about them. Officially I don’t; I know I’ll need the leverage eventually and I’ve got no intention of wasting it.

Antares looked at me as though he were thinking of kissing me but knew I wouldn’t like it. I almost let him do it anyway. If he marries me I’ll have to learn to tolerate it. It might not be so bad with him.

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predatory

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I never thought I would find myself agreeing with James, but my family is being especially stupid right now. ‘The contract is already broken. You have to destroy it before you can make another one.’ What is so tough to understand about that? It’s not the sort of thing you need to be called Scalara to understand! If they had just let Wilkes destroy the contract when he asked them the first time, I would have been able to go shopping today with Miranda and Alma, and I wouldn’t have had to listen to Claudia whining all day about how boring St Pantaleon’s is.

I need to find another escort for Cynthia’s ball, and it has to be someone older, wealthier and prettier than Hadrian Kyteler. Who will keep his hands off me. I could go with a girl, but people would talk. That might be funny though, except people would say I was only doing it for sour grapes, and I’d rather not be that obvious. It’s just that since I don’t like sex, I’m not sure it matters who I’m not having sex with at parties, and if I went with a girl we’d have more to talk about. But a boy would be more prestigious, and I am going to rub Dash’s nose in the fact that I can get somebody better than Hadrian Kyteler.

I wonder if Antares Dee has asked anyone. He brings me daisies when he calls on us. My mother always laughs because they’re common, but I like them. I’ve never cared for roses. They may not grow in fields, but they’re more common than daisies, because everyone thinks they’re what all women want. And I don’t.

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nauseated

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I started throwing up during dinner and I’ve been sick ever since; it’s finally settled a little, but I still feel like a slops bucket. (Or Cynthia Vieira. Take your pick. Though really Cordelia Hawkwood’s the slops bucket.) Endymion’s gone and done something wicked, I know it--he as much as said he was going to. But I haven’t the first idea what. I can’t help him if I don’t know what he’s done. And Kyteler had better not fuck off this time.

I could ask Jonathan, but he wouldn’t tell me anything even if he did know, and Maria won’t know anything. I’m almost willing to write to James. Almost. I don’t understand what’s got into him. Why should he care so much about Addie? She’s in Caerleon, and she’s always hated him. James says she’s jealous of Endymion, which is rather disgusting honestly. Trés Pritchard. (I can’t believe they’re our cousins.)

I really don’t want to have to go to hospital. The last thing I want to do now is face Hadrian Kyteler’s mother, whose fault this all ultimately is.

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irritated

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Hurrah! James is staying with Aunt Sophy until school starts and I shan’t have to put up with another minute of his posturing. I wish he would stay there for ever.

Prue says Endymion’s taken up with Hadrian Kyteler again (and is blackmailing her over it) so we mustn’t say anything untoward to Addie at Cynthia’s party. Well, I wasn’t actually going to, especially not given how upset Cross was, but Prue always has to take things too far and involve too many people and it always blows up in her face. I have, as Cross would say, learnt my lesson; I have learnt not to tell Prue anything that I wouldn’t want printed in the Herald. I wonder why Endymion told Prue that he’s with Hadrian now. I hope he doesn’t think that making sure the whole world knows about it will keep him from getting hurt when Hadrian’s bitch of a mother decides to throw another fit, or when Hadrian just decides to fuck off again.

I do hope Endymion realises that while I have absolutely no more interest in him than he does in me, he had better take at least as much care with my dignity as I do with his, and more than he does with his own. I don’t want him to get hurt. I also don’t want to get hurt myself. This was our idea two years ago and I’d all but given up on it. I’m not sure I still want it now, but the parents do, so we’ll just have to make the best of it.