August 19th, 1763

I cannot believe what my eyes show me! My brother and my husband are becoming friends. Or have become already. Something like that might occur between their sex when on a crusade against another male and perhaps for the virtue of some lady in distress, I believe. The funny thing is, they often stay friends thereafter. It is not like that with ladies. Not very often at least. And I for my part, have witnessed something different:

When I had to endure my first season in town, I had a friend coming from Bath who told me of her best friend and how they love each other so dearly, sharing any secret and would never have come anything between them. Well, until there came that gentleman from Essex; a very good looking fellow with an even more handsome purse and estate. - I never enjoyed a play in theatre better than this spectacle between sister-like ladies of the ton and their husband-hunting-war against each other. Unfortunately he went off to marry someone else entirely and my friend and her temporary enemy swore never to look at a man again - for friendship's sake. It lasted until the next season and they are still unmarried.

Musing about this, a theory is forming in my mind, that women are very strange characters when it comes to men. Jeremiah and Lord C kept me wondering about all this today.

We went for a drive around the estate. It was a nice outing and strangely not in the least awkward for any of us. It felt like we were brothers and sisters enjoying a ride through the park. Being unguarded the first time we set foot on my father's estate, we could discuss the problems at hand more freely. So I got to know that Mr Fairweather sr. already begged Clive's sincere pardon for having accused him of any knowledge or accompli[ce]. And that having brought Max back to his family wasn't the end of my husband's and my brother's involvement in this affair. I wasn't however satisfied in my curiosity about this Sarah, who vouched having been married to Frederick. Lord C only stated that he doubts it and thinks Max is hiding more information than he should...

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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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