The Secret Diary of Jane Elliot

Tea & Etiquette - 11th of May 1851

As it is still the 11th I'd find it quite ridiculous to not write down the events of the day, even if it is slightly confusing.

Father came and greeted me with a warm smile at breakfast, and, much to my relief, he avoided all conversation about the fact that it was my birthday- although I do have a sneaking suspicion that he knows, but wishes not to speak of it since it reminds him of mother. After our meal father retired to his office and I was free to roam around our grounds. I am now sitting under a rather grand blackthorn tree in our gardens, and it seems like the sun has cleansed away the heavy rain from the night so the air smells like fresh grass.

My dear friend, Charlotte, came over to me as I sat outside, alone and admiring the general splendour of the nature surrounding me. She is a servant, a rather good one at that, and because of that I am not allowed to call her a friend so we must keep our friendship a secret. She is five years older than me and I have always thought of her as an older sister, even if our paths in life lead in such different directions.

"There you are!" She exclaimed happily in her usual cheerful tone. She sat down next to me and looked at my book as I put it down, "What's that? Are you writing a diary?"

"No." I lied, but Charlotte knows me too well and I had to tell the truth after the look she gave me. "Oh fine... Yes, it is a diary.I could not sleep last night, because of the rain, and I had so many thoughts I couldn't help but write some of them down," I explained in truth.

"That's very smart of you, miss Elliot."

I laughed and shook my head, taking her hand into mine. "Please, have I not told you to call me Jane before?"

"Yes, miss, you have, but I fear I may get flogged again if they hear me call you in a way they think is improper," Charlotte frowned and looked down.

"Don't worry, dear Lottie," I stroked her hand, "I won't let them."

After our quick conversation Charlotte had to return to the servant quarters before they noticed that she was gone. I hate how they treat her there- she is not a slave in my eyes, but a dear friend. Yes, we pay the servants to the best of our abilities and I have often made tea and cakes for all of them as a thank you after my father's parties, which they work so very hard for, but I despise how terribly they seem to be treated by their superiors. I must remember to speak to father about their treatment and work hours, for I fear that they are overworked.

-

Confusing news- Sir Radcliffe came over for tea and has been invited to stay for dinner. I have sought quick refuge inside of my living quarters to gather myself and I pray that I will not become stuck in a private conversation with the sir. I felt his blue eyes stare at me so often and with so much intensity while we were taking our tea that I can imagine he now knows every detail of my anatomy, much to my uncomfortableness.

-

Sir Radcliffe caught me on the staircase as I began walking back downstairs again to join our dinner party, and he graciously offered to walk me back to them. He gave no smile nor did he show any sort of general aura of pleasantness- he was merely a plain gentleman with no charm.

I have never been taught anything other than to graciously accept an offer from a gentleman, so I did, but what struck me as strange was that he spoke to me before I gave a sign of wanting him to speak to me, which was one of the strict rules of etiquette.

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There are many rules of etiquette, almost too many to count, but, for future reference, here are a few:

• It is expected that a gentleman stand up the first time when a lady enters a room or takes her final leave.

• It is considered chivalrous for a gentleman to open a door for a lady if he happens to be in reasonable proximity.