January 28, 1812

Today, I am three and twenty. By some grace of God I made it through the day with little to no comments or suggestions of my becoming an old maid at this ‘late stage of my bloom’. I must confess though I have had not a single suitor other than the horrendous Mr. Vincent, I have no fear of what my fate may bring. I find it is better to not think upon the subject if I can help it at all. Mrs. Hegwood, though her intentions are nothing if not wholly good and just, was the first to remind me of my “growing unfavorable circumstances” as I have shown no sign of being in a hurry to marry. How can I think upon such things when other thoughts weigh so heavily upon my head?

Mr. Hegwood has declined even more so this week. He has grown desperately thin and his gray, pain haggard face does nothing but look out of his window all the day. He has ceased to speak to any of us, and his hand has grown cold and listless each time I hold it in mine. I have ordered the pianoforte moved from the upstairs parlor into his bedroom so that I may play for him and he does not have to stir nor disrupt his comfort. I did write to Dr. Allison about the condition of my dear Mr. Hegwood, and sent it with the greatest of haste. Dr. Jackson has been dismissed, finally, as Mrs. Hegwood caught him nosing about in her private boudoir, near her jewelry, no doubt in a desire to lift some to enhance his means. I have no doubt his living is so meager considering how inept of a physician he truly is. I will wait for a proper prescription for Mr. Hegwood by Dr. Allison, but I am of the opinion he must be moved to warmer climates, where the entirety of the winter months are not spent shrouded in snow, and the sun is more readily available and not as weak when it is about.

I took the liberty today, as we had a dreadful downpour of snow last night, to walk about in the fresh drifts while I could, as there was sun to be enjoyed along with it. It was so quiet and peaceful on the property that I nearly forgot the world back inside the Hegwood Estate.

I listened for birds, and watched the ones I could with my little spyglass, given to me last September by the Doctor. The Cardinals looked like little rays of joy with their bright red cloak of feathers splashed in places across the snow. I could not but laugh at them as they hopped about fluttering in the deep snow, making such sweet little noises and raising such a fuss that the Hegwood's cat came about to also watch them, but I am sure with a different motive than to laugh at them. The cat and I took a few turns together, until the snow began to freeze my toes and cause the cat nosmall amount of frustration as he kept sinking into the deeper, looser drifts of snow.

 I entered the house with rosy cheeks and a much finer spirit, to see a letter from Dr. Allison waiting for me in the frantic hand of Mrs. Hegwood as she had intercepted the letter before myself, waving it about as she scolded me for going behind her and Mr. Hegwood. I calmly removed the letter from her hand and told her that it was only for a second opinion, and to not give herself into a fit of hysterics if she could help it. I opened the letter and to my shock found a very brief note scrawled hastily urging us to move Mr. Hegwood to a warmer climate as soon as it was possible. I relayed the information to Mrs. Hegwood who set to such a frantic squawking and rambling and panicking I thought she was near to doing herself some sort of harm! Abigail and Mrs. Murpheys, Mrs. Hegwoods personal maid, came into the room briskly to calm her and bring some sense into the immediate vicinity. I took the opportunity to escape to my own room to pen a response to Mr. Allison, informing him that we would prepare to quit the Estate by week's end, and to please find us suitable rooms until we could arrive and look for more permanent lodgings. I do hope that Mrs. Hegwood will warm to this idea rather quickly.

January 18

T is with a mixture of elation and of growing bleakness that I record the recent days and weeks since last I wrote. A small package arrived the evening before last from England, and sustained little damage to my pleasure considering the last item I received, and I was most surprised to see it from the Doctor, as I had expected only a package from England would be sent by the hands of my Mama, Papa or dear Kathryn. Indeed, though, it was a small collection of belated gifts for Christmas from the dear Doctor, and I could not have been more pleased with them, along with the sweet note enclosed. He was kind and generous enough to send to me a new wax seal with a beautiful W upon it, which makes a fine statement imprinted upon the red wax; a lovely little novel I have not yet read called ‘Pamela’, and nestled away in protective layers of tissue paper and confined in a small box was a beautiful locket with his portrait in miniature affixed to the front on an oval of fine ivory. It is a most faithful depiction of the Doctor, and does immense justice to the features which I have grown so fond of. My heart leapt within my breast upon relieving it completely from its paper wrapping, and I forgot entirely that Mr. and Mrs. Hegwood were present with me in the room.

“My dear, show us what else the Doctor has sent, whatever it is has a fine look from the back, but I see that the front is where the interest lies. Do turn it about so we may also gawk at it!” Exclaimed Mrs. Hegwood good-naturedly, jostling me out of my reverie, and also reminding me gently to close my mouth, which from the moment of seeing the locket hung open in a most indelicate expression of astonishment. I placed the locket in her outstretched hand and she immediately crooned and lavished the trinket with praise and admiration. Mr. Hegwood gave a warm smile and heartfelt nod of appreciation and winked in my direction with a gentle pat of my hand. I have since affixed it with a thin black ribbon around my neck and pinned it to the front of my dress so that it would find no harm swinging from my neck as I moved about the house. At each glance since, Mrs. Hegwood has exchanged her opinion between adoration of it and chastisement of it coming with no “promise”. Each time her mind waxes pleased upon the item, she regales me with tales of how Mr. Hegwood presented such a similar gift to her, and shows me the well-loved and worn portrait. Mr. Hegwood was a fine handsome young man with a straight back and strong features when he sat for the painting, and it breaks my heart to see him in the state he is now.

My dear, poor Mr. Hegwood has found himself in a steady decline since late October, as the weather slowly began to cool. When winter set its claws in for good and the snow began to fall readily and thick, he was taken drastically ill. He attempted to make himself rather scarce as to not frighten or vex Mrs. Hegwood, though he may have considered himself clever, he was no match for his wife’s cunning. She found him out almost immediately, and Doctor Jackson, the Hegwood’s personal man, was sent for directly. Mrs. Hegwood and I waited in no small amount of agitation all the morning whilst Dr Jackson saw to Mr. Hegwood’s care. Since then, Dr. Jackson has made himself quite at home in our guest quarters four days out of the seven, but Mr. Hegwood has shown no improvement. It does my heart much damage to watch him decline so, and his complaints of pain in his legs and back have grown more frequent and sincere, and his appetite has all but vanished in his melancholy state. I have found Mrs. Hegwood’s constant bemoaning of her dear husbands state, and the state of her and I should he die, straining on the little courage I have left. But a brave face I have kept on and I have dutifully seen to dear Mr. Hegwood every day, and kept him warm company, as he has lain unable to move from his bed. On days where the weather is not as bitter, and some sun peeks through the tenacious clouds, with the assistance of his personal man-servant and two or three footmen, he is able to be removed from his bed and placed into his wheeled chair with plenty of wrappers and warm garments, but is confined to the upstairs parlor and rooms, as he cannot yet traverse the steps. I play for him on the days that he is able to be removed from his bed, and it seems to warm his spirits as much as they can be, for the oppressive gray of the winter days is beginning to take its toll on the entire house.

I have written to the Doctor upon receipt of my gifts, and have made mention of Mr. Hegwoods current condition, in hopes that he has a suggestion better suited to care for him than what Dr. Jackson has done. I have also had mind to write to Dr. Allison in Tennessee, who my dear Doctor has mentioned more than once being a wholly competent and able physician. I will touch upon the subject with Mrs. Hegwood at supper and gain her opinion on the idea. I cannot suspect she will be disinclined to ask for a second opinion, as I see from her no amount of appreciation for Dr. Jackson, who I have caught sleeping in Mr. Hegwood’s favorite chair when he should be attending to Mr. Hegwood's ever-growing complaints of pain on more than one event.

A subject which has distracted me as much as it can from the fate of my dear Mr. Hegwood, is the knowledge that the 16th of January has come and gone, and I suspect the Doctor is making his way back to America at this very moment. Other than the quick note enclosed in my package, I have heard nothing of his time in England. I made mention to Georgiana about his being in England, but it seems her dear husband Thomas missed the Doctor by just a few days on his last trip to London. I have put her mind at ease, informing her of the Doctor’s delay, but that he was safe and sound as the package signifies, though with the time taken in the mail between England and America, I fear it was a superfluous action, but I find it always best to keep everyone informed, where I can. I very much look forward to the dear Doctor’s return, and have counted down the days again, and have spent much time beside my globe, tracing my fingers over the path Mr. Hegwood placed the first time, before he was confined to his bed, and memorizing his kind face in the miniature that is always by my side or on my person.


My greatest wish is that all those I care for will make it through this winter unscathed, happy, and healthy so that we may pass the warm and pleasant months all together and in the joy of the season.

December 30, 1812

N the bustle and festive spirit of the season, I fear my diary has lain beside my bed almost entirely forgot, gathering dust instead of memories. Between the balls, feasts, and parties large and small, I have found little time or energy to encourage myself to write. The winter season in New York is a bitingly cold but beautifully white season though with an equal amount of warmth and joy to combat the conditions out of doors. Mrs. Hegwood has proved herself most adept and enthusiastic at providing for anyone in her household elaborate and very rich meals, sparing no expense on various types treats and delicacies, whether guests are involved or it is just out small familial gathering of three, and of guests there has been no shortage of; at any given day and time. I have had not a single moment to experience any melancholy feelings, and my smiles have come more readily, and given freely. Even the Vincents have had little success in irritating or exasperating me.

Mr. Vincent at either his good and generous spirit or the idea given by my dear Aunt, has given to me a most agreeable gift; a letter of credit for me to use at whatever I may desire; as I do not carry money upon my person for fear of danger. I have used it only at five separate merchants in town for only the direst of necessities, which are as follows:

• Three yard lengths of eight different colours and styles of ribbon to be used as trimmings for hats and gowns
• Two different kinds of charming lace in one-yard lengths for the neckline of gowns or kerchiefs
• A bunch of crisp white ostrich plumes
• A bunch of trimmed peacock tail-feathers
• A bunch of dyed ostrich feathers in various colors
• The newest and most popular colours of thread for embroidery
• A small birdcage with a pair of finches for my bedroom
• A pair of blue softened leather gloves

There are other things I wish to purchase, but upon reviewing the receipts given to Mr. Hegwood, he has advised that I allow myself some time to enjoy the things that I have already purchased before adding to the collection, which is a wisdom that I suppose I cannot argue.

Christmas day is fast approaching, and I have been given the most precious gift asked for. A letter arrived from the Doctor yesterday, sent to my surprised whilst he was still at sea. He reports to me the most exciting of events! A British Royal Navy ship overtook them, just as he suspected and I feared. It seems that had not the Captain of the Jupiter been in some pain of a bad tooth, the outcome of the Doctor and the rest of the crew’s fate could have ended very differently. As it was the Doctor was cunning enough to barter the freedom and safety of the crew for his skills in aiding the Captain in his distress, and in the end the crew and passengers of the Constant were allowed safe continuation onto England unmolested. I worry still for his safety, as of course I shall until I know he is safe in England at last, but I can guess he may very well be on land as we speak, and I hope that he finds himself comfortable and warm, surrounded by those he cares about and those who care about him. Sadly, it seems the Phoebe, the ship in which his letter was sent back on did not take the particular care in which I’m sure he wished, sustained some water damage on the back and front, but the inside remained mostly unmarred.

Mr. Hegwood has not received the receipts as of yet, but I have also used my letter of credit to purchase for the Doctor a few small gifts that I hope he will be able to make use of and be amused by; A small charming sextant for his travels, two books on Flora for when he is in the field researching all manners of life, and a lovely pencil, which he may use to sketch his new findings, as I have not seen him carry one before (I suspect he may have lost it). I do not think that dear Mr. Hegwood will chastise me for these selfless purchases for one which we both share a warm affection for, in each of our ways. I will send them out when they arrive at the Estate, for there were too many packages for me to carry home, and I ordered them delivered at their earliest convenience. I hope that no damage or ill will come to them; and worry for them if the Doctor’s letter is any indication of the treatment mail is given during these somewhat turbulent times between England and America.

November 13, 1812

he frost has begun to thicken upon every surface in the early mornings, at times not thawing out until well after breakfast, making the now barren trees shine as the weakening sunlight touches them. The age of the house is showing with each passing day by allowing the cold to penetrate at every thin corner and draughty passageway. Staying warm is far beyond my ability in such conditions, and I have been permanently attached to the fireplace in my bedroom or in the parlor, straying not away if I can help it lest I freeze myself straight to death! I cannot even play my instrument any longer, for my hands cannot bear the movements when they are so cold. I am told the weather will continue to get colder, and Mr. and Mrs. Hegwood tease me kindly about my obvious inability to remain warm. I cannot abide by the cold, and this is a painful sort!

Mrs. Hegwood has begun to decorate the rooms with sprigs of holly and other festive flora in light of the approaching holiday season. While I am not particularly fond of it, the bright colors and lovely fresh smells bring my heart a greatly needed cheer. It calls to my mind fond memories of my childhood, when the same sights and smells brought excitement and anticipation of guests from afar and so much joy and warmth. I am reminded most fondly of my mothers close friend whom she knew from school, Miss Isabella Ashborne, who much to our collective sorrow strayed far from us to Eastbourne after the death of her husband. She was always much like an aunt or an elder sister to me, and I have known her since I was but a babe. I wrote to her, as often as I could whilst back in England, but since I have been in America I am afraid no letter has been sent, and I am most remiss in my duties as a friend. I have resolved to write to her before the week is out, and recall the cherished memories of her visits during the holidays. I find myself remembering things about England that I will no longer be able to enjoy, at least in the same manner, now that I am in America. I will miss Mama and Papa deeply and Kathryn as well. I hope that she has been well, and will encounter no difficulties this winter as her condition every day progresses closer to the happy time.

Mrs. Vincent has invited Mr. and Mrs. Hegwood and myself to a dinner party and ball on their estate to celebrate the holidays, and I am told all the best society will be in attendance that is to be found in Albany. Mrs. Hegwood has expressed a great interest in the “various eligible bachelors” that will supposedly be there as well, even some with titles on the line to be inherited, visiting from home.

Says she; “My dearest Emily, it would be good to divert your attentions to someone who you can rely upon, child.” To this, I could not help but respond, entirely shocked and offended; “Mrs. Hegwood, I would expect more of your good opinion towards the Doctor! You do me great injury as well as to him.” I of course, could say nothing more for I did in truth have no grounds to claim him attached to me, as much as I wanted to state it as fact. She said no more of the matter, but patted me on the cheek and gracefully moved to another subject. Her words, though, remained with me for quite some time, and I began to think perhaps she was correct, and to lay away my affection for the Doctor unmarred by disappointment and heartbreak in their happy memory and move away from pinning my hopes there.

Without our knowledge, Mr. Vincent had observed the entire exchange from just beyond the doorway of the parlor. If Mr. Hegwood had not happened upon him and let out a startled exclamation, who is to say how much more he would have heard? By now I fear he already knows more than I wished him to. The Doctor was to remain safe from Mr. Vincent, locked away in my heart, but now I am afraid he cannot be any longer. Mr. Vincent is a terribly perceptive and sharp man, and will find it all out in time.

After his abrupt entry into our company in the parlor, he bowed graciously to Mrs. Vincent, and greeted her and humbled himself in a most falsely sanguine manner, causing my blood to boil. As he addressed me I returned them with the shortest answers deemed polite and sufficient, before sitting at the furthest corner of the room from him, forsaking my place by the fire, and picked up the nearest book. He was not to be dissuaded, however, and insisted upon sitting beside me and engaging me in conversation. Mrs. Hegwood suddenly remembered something that needed her direct attention, and made haste from the parlor, dragging the hesitant and confused Mr. Hegwood behind her. Mr. Hegwood turned to look at me over his shoulder as he was pulled from the room, and my eyes begged him to stay, but Mrs. Hegwood would allow no such thing, and forcefully bade him come away with tugs, looks, and threats.

Mr. Vincent watched them go, pausing in his barrage of dull questions and comments to hear the footsteps fade away from earshot, before wiping the gentle and amiable expression clear off of his face and donning his natural state, before turning back to me with a haughty sneer. “So, Miss Waterman, who is this Doctor,” said he as he moved closer to me, removing the book from my hands none too gently and tossing it onto the chair which just moments ago my only protector had occupied. I chose not to answer him and smiled, moving to the furthest end of the couch in which we resided, commenting on the sudden change in the cold weather. Mr. Vincent hushed me violently midway through my sentence, and startled, I chanced a look into his face, and I found it most ugly; flushed with anger and pride. “No, Miss Waterman I shall NOT be moved from this topic. You will tell me who this man is, and how he comes to dare have the claim over you which I so deservedly possess, for you are mine and no other man’s,” Said he. My heart trembled something wild within my breast and my hands shook, but I stayed my course. “Mr. Vincent,” said I, “It is no part of your business what I conduct in my personal affairs or with whom I conduct them. You shall not get the answer you desire from me, and this interview has concluded.” With that, I removed myself from the couch and from the room as quickly as I could, and left him there, spluttering in his shock and rage, to barricade myself in my bedroom.

It has been two days since, and I have heard nothing from him, and am gentling a hope into existence that he has gone from me for good, and I have succeeded at last. Mrs. Vincent must be entirely unaware of the exchange, for she has continued to amuse Mrs. Hegwood, and the invitation has not been revoked. Mr. Hegwood since that day, has begun to take a closer interest in my safety, and I believe he has made an acute observation of Mr. Vincent’s effect on me, and has taken pains to remain in my presence as often as he can. If I could thank him without him knowing of Mr. Vincent’s previous conduct, I would wash over him the kindest expressions of gratitude I know. Instead, I provide for him as much amusement and entertainment as I can, and he seems contended enough with that. He reminds me very much of my dear Papa, and I shall endeavor to be the best to him as his own natural daughter could be.

There is still no letter yet from the Doctor, but Mr. Hegwood assures me that he should be safe in England soon enough.

November 5, 1812

have been most spoiled by the affectionate and dearly sympathetic Mr. Hegwood whilst he has watched my daily decline in spirits and heart since receipt of the Doctor’s letter. He has taken a keen interest in rectifying my melancholy state and has offered and provided such a fatherly tenderness that I have warmed to him as much as to my own dear Papa. My rather spacious bedroom has most recently been furnished to my surprise with a very lovely and charming globe, which Mr. Hegwood informs me, is to be used to track the weekly progress of the Doctor’s travel. He, familiar with the course I am told, will assist me in where to place the marker every Sunday evening before I sleep. I am utterly delighted by this handsome and meaningful gift, and have spent long hours tracing the distance with my fingertips, memorizing, and yet despairing in it.

Since the rain has ceased for a spell and the roads have dried back to safe traveling conditions, The Vincent’s have resumed their nearly daily calls. Mr. Vincent has been less and less in attendance with Mrs. Vincent, but I am too suspicious to feel I am freed of him just yet. He has sent me notes in his absence from the Hegwood Estate, most of which I have tossed into the fire without opening, fearing reading the words would somehow allow for him to continue his hold over me without his presence. I can find nothing else to report of them since they have provided nothing extraordinary in their behaviors short of Mrs. Vincent’s usual effusive ways, and Mr. Vincent’s continued false sense of possession over me, so I shall spend no more time upon them.

I have written hastily to Georgiana to inform her of what has recently come to my knowledge about the Doctor, both his change of situation and my change of feelings, and have begged her if able to make a trip to London to report to me first hand in his safety and welfare, for she is most expedient in writing to me, and would be the first to inform me if anything was the matter. It seems foolish, but it has put my heart and mind at some rest knowing there will be a pair of very trusted eyes upon him.

I fear my time riding for the season may be at a close. Mrs. Hegwood has very excitedly expressed concern for me catching a chill riding out in the mornings where the frost is thick upon everything. I find it rather stifling that I must be kept indoors now all day even if the afternoons are fine, but I am too meek of late to argue the point. The instrument in the second parlor has provided me enough entertainment, though I am growing bored of the pianoforte in my excessive use of it. Mr. Hegwood finds great pleasure, though, during the evenings in listening to me play, and has boasted that ‘he will grow quite vain of his little charge’s talent if I continue to progress so charmingly’. I fear he will soon open the Estate for small concerts to all the neighbors, as he has oft suggested the idea to Mrs. Hegwood. It has been a great luck that the weather has proved fickle and unpredictable, preventing most from making any sort of trips too far from their homes. I do not wish to be made a spectacle of, only to use the music as a sort of salve for my wounded heart.

As winter is approaching, I am feeling the dullness of the season to accompany it. The grayness of the sky hanging over our heads and the abrupt end to the colors of Autumn have left my spirits equally dull, and I am forced to find more things within the walls of the Estate to occupy my time and my mind. I have spent some time writing poetry that frustrates me in its unwillingness to cooperate in making sense or stirring anything within anyone present (I pity Abigail immensely), I have drawn nearly everything and everyone within immediate vicinity to me, and have played until my fingers ached, and it seems to only dismiss half of the day. Mrs. Hegwood has recently invited me in her weekly visits to the less fortunate that reside around the property of the Hegwood Estate, ensuring their collective health and happiness. These visits have a talent for disrupting my mind’s stubborn orbit of the Doctor and my sorrow, and give me new focus and purpose. In the quiet hours of my home bound days, I have mended old clothes to give to them, made for them blankets, and have written up lessons for the children in arithmetic and language. I cannot feel sorry for my own unfortunate circumstances whilst so surrounded with theirs, yet they seem not to feel their situations, and it gives me strength. Perhaps I should increase the number of my visits during the week, and better fulfill my Christian duty, as certainly it will provide within me a peace and solace.

As each day passes, though, I am finding myself more and more able to tolerate the knowledge that the Doctor is every day growing more distant from me, and that our paths may never cross again. Who is to say how long I am to reside in America now, since it seems I have failed in my ‘duty’. I am no fool, and I know why Aunt Elizabeth sent me here, for more reason than her disregard for Mr. B--- for what other reason had she to dislike him so, than as competition for where HER heart desired for my future? She has won in the regard that I have placed all my hope and affections on the Doctor, but now he is quite gone, and I have succeeded in nothing but causing injury to myself, once more. I have started to write to her many times, but each time the letter has begun I have ended it by throwing it into the fire before the ink has even dried. I cannot bring myself to tell her what has happened, as I am not ready to tear myself from this place. Though Mrs. Hegwood oft exasperates me to no end, and the Vincents constantly plague me, my heart is still too attached to this continent, and my hope that the Doctor will return to America too strong. If I were to leave here now and return to England, and he were to return to America after all, we would be divided for certain, and whilst a spark of hope is still kindled in my breast, it must remain alive only in America.

I still every day stir from whatever it is that I am doing when I hear one of the footmen respond to the bell, or when I hear the approach of a horse’s hooves, though I know it is by far too soon to expect any letter. I count down each day to the prediction when Mr. Hegwood suggests the Doctor will arrive in England, and will place a new marker in my globe each Sunday evening, and pray with all my soul that he arrives safely, and will choose to return to me.

A rememberance

I was, today, giv'n mind of the trip to The Farnsley-Moremen estate in September. You may see said rememberance in the journal of Mr. and Mrs. Cummings. Look for our Miss Waterman engaged in her archery on the front page.

October 31, 1812

t was decided by all in the house, most servants included, that I should waste no more of my life mourning the departure of the Doctor, and I have taken the opportunity and forceful suggestions supplied to reach out to those about me to fill the empty place within my heart.

I wrote to Miss Liebert yesterday, imploring her to provide for me a kind heart and touch to rely upon whilst I felt I could not trust Mrs. Hegwood still. She immediately responded to the note, and made haste to the Hegwood Estate despite the threat of more rain and poor traveling conditions. I could not help it, my heart so exposed as it was and so tender to any sort of kindness, that I told her all. I told her everything from the first mention of the Doctor’s name in my home in England to the precise identification of my love for him discovered three days prior, and even all about the loathsome Mr. Vincent. Hours passed unnoticed by either party as I laid at her feet everything there was in the heart of Emily Waterman. The wonderful creature that she is, she only provided me a hand to hold and a gentle touch to brush away my tears as they fell in great numbers. She offered no suggestions, and no advice, only sympathies and a much desired gentle heart.

When finally the conversation turned to lighter topics, she suggested my attendance at a wonderful masquerade ball that was to be held that evening. Mrs. Hegwood, being always desirous for society, immediately agreed it best for my spirits. My heart still raw and yet to recover, I could not muster the energy nor vice to argue, and it was agreed upon by Miss Liebert and Mrs. Hegwood that I would go as an angel, as to them my face was nothing but sweetness and would hold no other disguise nearly so well. Mrs. Hegwood offered a new gown for the occasion, but I detained her and told her I would wear the same worn to the Congress of Vienna, and would accept nothing else. She of course could not understand my sentimental attachment to the frock, and I was not in the mood to discuss the matter. I removed the red trimmings to keep the proper illusion, and the ensemble was very well received by all present. The henhouse was raided by any of the servants who could be spared for any and all white feathers, and the quick and creative mind of Ms. Liebert produced a pair of serviceable angel wings to be worn with my snow white muslin ball gown. Pearls were draped through my hair and silk flowers, as well as three crisp and new Ostrich plumes. I confess I felt myself quite a magnificent sight as Mr. and Mrs. Hegwood, Abigail, and Ms. Liebert all fussed over me and crooned how lovely a picture I was.

Ms. Liebert parted our company shortly thereafter to prepare herself and informed me she would meet with me upon arriving at the destination of the ball. I went forth with great trepidation and feeling very exposed and alone, as Mrs. Hegwood was obliged to stay behind due to Mr. Hegwood feeling terribly under the weather as the change of seasons oft caused him troubles in the joints. Abigail accompanied me in the coach as far as the ball, but could go no further and must be brought back to the Hegwood Estate. I wandered aimlessly among the company present, knowing not a soul and seeing not a person I recognized even from the Congress of Vienna ball. My heart began to sink, and my mind was immediately brought back to that happy memory, though I could think of it with no joy. I fancied I could still smell the distinct scent of the Doctor’s wool coat upon my gown as I moved, and I was forced to find a corner in which to hide myself, as my breath was caught in my throat, and I could scarce see for the tears brimming in my eyes. I was interrupted by one of the servants and handed a note. It was from Miss Liebert, and to my horror she begged for my forgiveness as she was unable to attend due to her obligation to care for her ailing mother. Her apology sounded so earnest that I could not resent her for her duty as a loving daughter. I made amends to carry out the night on my own, and was resolved to enjoy myself at least in part. All present made such a lovely sight, that my breath was stolen quite away upon observing the dance floor. It was a magnificent and large ballroom, brightly lit with as many colorful fashions as one could possible imagine. There were trees, fairies, the night sky, spring and summer, and as many creative masques as I could think, though I was the soul angel in attendance, and too many times did I see groups look at me and whisper behind their fans. I could not be sure if I was receiving a compliment or if gossip of my solitary attendance was sprouting, and my confidence wavered.

I spent a considerable amount of time observing faces, and those I could not see, observing movements. I was exceedingly happy to discover that neither Mrs. Vincent nor her dreadful son Mr. Vincent were to be seen. With this knowledge, I felt my heart lighten, and I was able to enjoy some of my time, and even danced a few of my favorites. Whilst taking air between dancing, I glimpsed over the shoulder of the charming young lady I was speaking to, a face that looked so like Mr. B--- that my head began to swim and the poor lady before me was obliged to grasp my hand lest I faint, and I was afraid I very well may have if not for her. I regained my senses quickly enough upon the logical realization that it was quite impossible for Mr. B---- to be present in America, and even more so now that he was married to the Miss P---, now Mrs. B----. Despite the assurances I recounted to myself, the memories of my recent affliction came anew, and I excused myself from the conversation, and called for my coach. I plead unwell and was not delayed in my departure.

Once home, I was surprised to find Mrs. Hegwood still out of bed, waiting upon my safe arrival. She took my hand and led me into the front parlor where a warm fire was lit. She sat me upon a low foot stool, and placed herself in the large chair behind it, and delicately removed the pearls, flowers, and plumes from my curls, taking down my bound tresses, and gently ran a brush through them. She said not a word, but I knew by her actions and uncharacteristic silence she had read the Doctor’s letter while it lay out upon my writing desk. I could not constrain the tears that I had so wanted to weep upon her shoulder, and with the first shaking of my shoulders, she put down the brush, lifted me slightly, turned me about, and placed my weeping head upon her lap, soothing my brow and gentling me whilst I sobbed. I told her that I loved him, and how my heart has suffered such a grievous injury in his going away so soon after I arrived in America and our acquaintance bloomed into such a cherished friendship. She mothered my tears and my wretched sorrow for quite some time, until I had calmed enough to realize how tired my mind, body, and heart had become. Mrs. Hegwood lifted me from my low perch and assisted me to my bed, helping me to undress and to prepare my hair for the next day. She kissed my brow, and smoothed back a few stray curls, and told me that she knew just the thing to help my aching heart, and to fear not, she would make all right again.

I am unsure that it is wise for me to trust her entirely in this matter, and I fear I already know what, or who, her solution will be, but I will humor her for her kindness to me.