At last, I have set eyes on Boo’s new baby. She looks exactly like a walnut to me, but Boo assures me she is beautiful and so she must be. As soon as I saw her I was brought to tears, wondering if I shall ever have such a bundle of my own. As I gazed down at her on Boo’s lap I thought of Josiah and yearned for a tiny, living image of him to dandle and fuddle with.
I wonder if my fever has not entirely left me.
Villiers seems to be concerned for my well-being. Every time I turn around I find him watching me as one might regard a tottering child near a pond. I have not spoken to him about the Girl or the child, though I am sure he expects me to at any moment. I am saddened by my discovery of his cruelty, but he is far too good a butler for me to lose him over a servant girl. I had not thought him capable of such brutish sentiment, not when he is so meticulous in domestic matters. I wish my eyes had not been opened to his maleness.
Still, I must not let such petty disappointments spoil my plans. I want to take more of a role in the Press now that Boo has a use for both her hands, so I shall call upon Mrs Doughty before the week is over. And I must dine with Papa, for I have been woefully inattentive of him since the fire. If I am not to have a child, or a butler with more than half a heart, I can still be a dutiful wife and daughter. Those qualities are as yet still within my power.