July 2nd, 1763

Today we had a picnic in the park. Only the young people. It was a welcome distraction of Mrs. Littledales babbling about the difficulty in finding trustworthy servants, how perplexing and time consuming a task it would be and that she was worrying about her future daughter-in-laws capacity in having her servants' appearance, behaviour and language reflect the image of her family for which she needed years to establish. For my part, I was wondering that this woman, though kind and amiable she was towards us guests, was doing anything else than what the usual genteel lady was supposed to do: arranging flowers, doing fancy needlework (we had quite a show the first evening we stayed here), distilling flower essences and making special confections.

She seemed to have given up all housewifely duties to her housekeeper. I could only perceive that competent woman running about and directing every body to their task and not Mrs. L, who had never even rose a finger since we're here. Not that I'm the picture of a wife, but I have no son to marry off...


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