A family solicitor with news

Dear Diary, (evening of May 19th)

That was the moment that my long day suddenly got a lot longer. “That's Mr. Naylor, your father’s solicitor.” The note of concern in Mr. Thornton's voice caught my attention, “What is he doing here?”

I knew even before Mr. Naylor reached me that I had arrived too late. The black band the grey-haired man wore on his left arm told me all I needed to know.

“Miss DiFlorentini I presume?” Under normal circumstances, my father's solicitor's drawl would have made me smile but that was neither the time nor the place. “I am so sorry that you arrived at this sad time. It is good, however, that you are here as your father's will is to be read tomorrow.” I learnt, as I was escorted into the salon, that I had missed my father's funeral by only a day and that several relatives were also expected to arrive tomorrow to hear the allotment of the properties. I was thankful for the glass of bourbon that was pressed into my hand. I don't normally drink more than an occasional sherry, but the shock of horrible news required a stronger tonic.

Thankfully, a pretty light-skinned **** in a neat white dress arrived with a tray loaded with consume and sandwiches so the bourbon was not sitting on my empty stomach for long. I still remember the way the girl called me 'mistress', it was different somehow when the word is spoken by a ****. I watched with interest as the girl smiled sweetly as she curtseyed to Mr. Thornton. It is likely just my imagination, but it seemed to me that my traveling companion's eyes lingered on her smooth brown chest far longer than would be proper and furthermore, the pretty **** was pleased by the attention she received from the young man.

Until that moment it had not occurred to me to consider the young lawyer in that way but seeing the man through the eyes of the ****, I had to concede that Mr. Thornton was quite handsome. He too will be spending the night here at the plantation, although I retired to my room before the gentlemen so I have no idea where he might be sleeping.

Perhaps it is the ****, but with a newfound confidence I've decided to include sketches in this journal, as I am the only one who is likely to see this private journal I may as well practice this skill.

The house ****:

I do not yet know the girl's name, but as she is one of the houseslaves I'm sure I'll be able to speak to her soon enough. I also sketched my first view of Havenhall, on the previous page. It may not be quite right, as I drew it from memory, but the essence is correct, it really is a beautiful place even with the empty sadness that hangs over the stately buildings.

The will is to be read tomorrow; I wonder if Mama and I will be mentioned? I wonder if I'll even be able to sleep ...