I have received news from my aunt. We are to return home on the 15th, much earlier than she had originally planned, to make preparations for the wedding. I shall pour my every might into making this a special day, not just for me but for my family. Aunt can't have much left, as horrible as it may seem it is the truth, and she thinks of me as her daughter. She has been there for me ever since my mother's death, so quite literally from the very day I was born. Although he never admits it, and I'm certain he never shall, I do feel as though the event of my birth and, subsequently, my mother's death was what triggered my father's difficulties.
Drinking is the main thing, and it puts him in such a bad mood I've long since learned to leave him be after dinner, but during the day he's a sweetheart and nothing less. I do not want you to get a bad impression of my dear papa, diary. He's kind and sweet-natured to me, and always has been, but I will admit that the time during which he is fine is limited. During the morning he has such a pain in his head his mood drops entirely, and during the evening he takes to his drink again, but during the day, most notably between 12 and 4 o'clock, he is the kindest father one could ever ask for. I ask for anything, be it books or an instrument, he gives it without hesitation.
True, it may make me a bit conceited and foolish at times, since I have caught myself thinking ill of others for not living in such luxury such as I am, but I have been trying my best to understand other people and their different situations and troubles. Elizabeth, for instance, with her having to choose between her love and her family, is much different than from my trouble of having to choose between freedom and security.
On the subject of my security, Willoughby came and greeted me a good day this morning. I call him Willoughby now at the instance of him, and he calls me his Jane. His. The idea of being someone's property, being his from the moment I accepted, it frightens me a bit. I cannot definitively say that I have made a mistake, but I do wonder now if I should have waited. Aunt has already ordered for a coach to take us to the market district, and I hear her laughter downstairs with Lady Pennyworth. The two seem friendly enough with each other, I suppose, but I have noticed that both of their egotistic tendencies tend to disagree with one another and they often challenge each other. I try to mend things the best I can, but ever since I was essentially locked up in my bed I haven't been truly able to help, but today that will change. I am well again and, with the permission of the doctor, who's name I was as unfortunate not to have caught, I am to go to town with aunt.
She speaks of nothing but the dress. She insists on it being white, the most expensive colour one could have asked for! Ever since Queen Victoria's wedding, just 11 years ago now, the most fashionable wedding dress imaginable has been one of white silk and lace. I don't remember the wedding day well, but I do remember there was an overwhelming sense of joy as the entire household bustled with life and celebration. Father went to St James's Palace, where the wedding took place, while I stayed home. I was only five years old, after all, and the crowds that gathered were said to be so vast and great that father couldn't even see the royal couple and therefore felt disappointed over even haven traveled all the way to London. This had been the first marriage of a reigning English queen since Mary the first almost 300 years prior; a most vile, fierce queen. Oh how it pains to think of her phantom pregnancy, her disgusting way of haven thrown her sister, the then to be Queen Elizabeth the first, into the tower! I do not know much of her way of character and reason, but there is no doubt in my mind she was troubled, the poor thing. In a way I pity her, but not enough to make me think any better of her.
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I have just now come back from town. The prices of white are absurd! The silk aunt had settled on for my dress cost too much, in my taste, but aunt decided to buy it and said that I deserved to wear only to best out money could buy but, and this is just ridiculous, as soon as she mentioned a wedding they brought the price up! I find this to be criminal! On the good note, at least we have the silk ready.
I must leave now. It is time for dinner, and I am sure nothing of interest will happen for the rest of the day. I know that my life isn't interesting enough to write down it's details, so I won't bother you with nonsensical explanations of my conversations unless they're absolutely necessary. I know I have much to take on, now that I am engaged. It still feels so strange to think of me like that, though... Oh, I must leave. My heart is in confusion, but my will must overcome it. I cannot regret my decision for security, even if it gives up my chance for happiness. Perhaps a child will bring in the love I so desire, but the thought of children scares me. Everything scares me, it seems. Well, everything except for Thomas.
STAI LEGGENDO
The Secret Diary of Jane Elliot
Storie d'amoreJane Elliot was the young daughter of a wealthy gentleman in Victorian era England. In 1851 she began to write a secret diary. A diary that has survived to this very day. She was married to a man she did not love, she got sent to an asylum, fe...
