The Diary of Rikkard Ambrose

VII

Wednesday, 31st December, 1834 (continued (again - settle in, folks))
18.00. That could have gone better. Linton walked in on me changing. Never in my life have I been forced to hide behind a curtain - until today. Of course, Linton thought it terribly funny, pretending as though she did not notice me and beginning to change. On my honour as a gentleman, I only peaked once. She has thrown me out of the dressing room and I am sitting on the bed which our hostess expects us to share. I shall sleep on the floor if I must. Whatever happens, I must stay away from Linton. If things get wild again; they may get loud. Things may be broken. She is calling me, the needy beast.
18.15. Note to self: the occupation of lady's maid appears more complicated than I first thought. So many buttons, so many laces. We shall be going to dinner at 19.00. What to do until then? My mind says Linton, alas, I can not be bothered to waste my time tying her dress again.
Linton is in the room. Linton is asking what you are. Linton is getting closer.
18.20. Linton saw it's name. I told it you are an account's book (I have re-bound you with a pillow case since painting 'DIARY' on your cover). It has no idea. Linton is doing it's hair. I shall go over the will.
18.30. Linton looks acceptable. Quite acceptable. Really quite acceptable. Yes. It is adequate. It wears a deep red dress and black gloves. An excellent pairing, in my limited opinion of fashion. Linton has just copped on to the one-bed situation. I shall discuss it with it now.
18.55. I have had to remind Linton that to sleep in separate rooms would be improper, given our fake marital status. I have also had to remind Linton of the sort of small perishing act that goes on between a married couple. I have never seen cheeks so red. It must not have totally forgotten it, however, as we have both been incessantly pestered about children today.
20.00. My male familial associates are smoking and drinking. I have brought some port up to our room to rest before the dancing is to begin at the ball. I have overheard a conversation on may way up between our hostess and her good acquaintance, Antonia Carter, that the latter's son is coming home from the army. No doubt his physical triumphs will be admired by Linton. I am not jealous.
23.00. I have come back to the room to get away from the music for a short while and stop some bleeding. I shall give a brief account of the disaster that has been this evening. All was well for a while. Linton and I danced thrice before she felt the pull of the solid chocolate from a nearby table and left to devour it.
Then, however, a late arrival arrived. As it happens, Linton's favourite Captain Carter is the son which I told you about earlier. All would have been well, had she not have danced with him six times, before following him into the garden. I followed, too, just without anyone knowing. They spoke for a while and he confessed feelings for Linton. Our hostess and her friend went looking for them to have a word with Carter and at that moment, he was moving to put his lips on hers. It would not be adequate for my reputation to be that of the scorned lover, so I did what any other sane man would do: made my fist violently connect with his face.
My tactic worked and no lips were dampened by the adulterate beast and no mothers were given heart attacks. The negative side, however, is that Linton hit me once Carter had composed himself and run off to his mother. She shouted, too. I was too enraged to listen and merely reminded her of her position here.
I fear she may find some harsh words to deliver later.
I hear footsteps along the corridor - fare thee well.

I hope everyone enjoyed, sorry this took a while to update, I just didn't really know how to go about relating the story I had in my head.
Anyway, have a lovely day/night, Ifrits! Who else is excited for the Silence Is Golden update tomorrow? X