August 1819
A dinner party this night, with all the local families of standing invited. Lord L. is very conscious of standing; he never introduced me but as “the duke of Exeter’s sister.” I suppose that is to show how advantageous the match is for Bertie, but I do wish he would stop. I long to meet new friends and wouldn’t want people to think me too proud.
(later)
An odd night. Of all the guests, only the Misses Blacke seemed particularly friendly. They are two spinster sisters who live near Keswick and are of great good humor and spirits. Squire and Lady Melton were also very kind, as were the other guests, but they were mostly of an age with Lord L. There were two single gentlemen as well, particular friends of Bertie’s. Bertie was in high spirits all evening and is still below with SirOwen Henry and Mr. William Cane. I had hoped to meet more young ladies, or really any ladies, but I suppose there will be many more opportunities. Jane Melvill has written twice already, and I miss her.
September 1819
A quiet evening at home. Bertie walked out this morning with Sir Owen and Mr. Cane to hunt. Lord L. discouraged me from going with them because he fears for my health, that as I am not accustomed to the northern weather, I may take cold. It is no secret Lord L. wishes for an heir as soon as Bertie and I can manage one. Bertie is his only child, and the last of the Lansborough line at the moment. On our wedding day, he kissed my forehead and asked only that I present him with a grandson before he dies. I am certainly trying my best, but I would still like to walk out from time to time, even if the weather is not as fine as in Kent.
September 1819
A wretched day. Bertie and I argued. I wished to walk into town today, as much for the exercise and fresh air as to explore Keswick. Bertie refused to accompany me, as he had already made plans to fish with Mr. Cane. Lord L. encouraged him to walk with me, as it is quite a long way and Lord L. was afraid I might become lost or not be up to the walk. He is still very solicitous of my health, but Kenlington is too dull for words. No one comes to call, and there are few assemblies. Even a country dance would lift my spirits.
But Bertie would not accompany me. He said it would be rude to tell Mr. Cane he could not fish after all. Perhaps I ought to have been more considerate when he had already made an engagement, but I have no friends in the country to call on, and Bertie is perfectly aware that I spend most of my days at home. It did not seem such a terrible thing to ask of him. I am certain Marcus does not neglect Hannah so, nor David, Vivian.
Late September 1819
Bertie took me into town today to make up for not taking me the other day. We have rarely been alone together, and it was sucha long walk into town, one might have thought we had never spoken to each other in our lives! He confided to me that he does not much care for Cumberland, and that is why he has been so out of sorts. Cumberland, for all that it is beautiful in its own way, is a harsher land than Kent, and perhaps this explains Bertie’s restlessness of late. Still, we had a lovely walk and he even composed some poetry on the way, although very poor verse—so poor we laughed until our stomachs hurt.
In town we met a number of people. We stopped for tea with another newly married couple, a Mr. and Mrs. Winslow. Mr. Winslow, who has just been ordained, grew up in Keswick, and he and Bertie knew each other well. Mrs. Winslow was quite engaging as well, and I should like to know her better, but they are moving house to Mr. Winslow’s new parish in Derbyshire soon.
November 1819
A letter from Mama and one from Jane. I am becoming quite a correspondent of late! Mama has invited us to Ainsley Park for the New Year, but Lord L. does not wish us to go. He still hopes for an heir soon and has quite a dislike of travel. He said I may invite Mama to Kenlington next year, if I wish, and I suppose that must do.
Jane asks when we plan to journey to London again. Bertie is as pleased as I am about returning to London in the spring. It will be so splendid to attend balls and the theater together!
January 1820
I am very dismal today. We are not to spend the Season in London after all. Lord L. has developed a rheumatism and is confined to a chair. The doctor says he must not travel for several months. Lord L. said that he cannot do without us, and he does not want us to go to London. I was quite upset, not just from the loss of London’s entertainments but because I shall miss seeing Marcus and Hannah as well. Mama writes that Hannah will have a child before the year is out—I did not tell Bertie or Lord L. this, though. We still have no prospect of a child, despite diligent efforts.
I asked Bertie to ask his father again about the Season, buthe will not. I know he is unhappy, though, for he has gone to the pub in Keswick with Sir Owen and likely won’t be back before dawn.
February 1820
Oh, horror. After dinner, Lord L. asked me to read to him. His eyes are growing weaker, and he takes great pleasure in my voice, he tells me. I dutifully read for an hour, and then—I don’t know what came over me—I asked if we might go to London for the Season.
“No, my dear. I explained it to Bertie,” he told me. “Your life, and his, will be here. You must learn your roles as master and mistress. You are both needed here, and it will be good for Bertie to settle down a bit.”
“But Bertie had been in the habit of attending the Season,” I dared to say. “And what of Parliament?”
“Bertie needed to find a wife—and a fine job he did, too. When he is Lansborough, he will be in London for Parliament and you may travel to London every spring. With my poor health, I am unable to do as much as before, and Bertie must begin to take over Kenlington, which he cannot do from London. I hope it is not too distressing to you, my dear. Next year you will take the ton by storm, I am certain.”
He cannot go because he is in poor health, and he does not want Bertie and me to go, either. I do not think life at Kenlington is so very complicated that we must spend every day of the year studying it. Bertie shows no interest in the estate and spends as little time as possible here, despite Lord L.’s admonishments. If only Bertie would stay in at nights more! He is out until dawn nearly every day now. I think he is as bored as I, but he prefers to spend his time elsewhere. I believe we might amuse ourselves well enough together, but apart it is terribly quiet and lonely.
May 1820
A dreadful disappointment. We were to dine tonight at the Meltons’, but a fearsome rainstorm sprang up. Bertie declared he would go after all and not spend the night at home,even though his father begged him not to venture out. He persisted and went, but Lord L. and I stayed home, as it was quite fierce out.
I wonder that Bertie was so anxious to be out; he has not spent above ten days together here in the last month. His father’s health has begun to decline of late, and he worries about Bertie worse than ever. I do wish Bertie would make more of an effort to handle more of Kenlington business, and spare Lord L. so he might recover.
May 1820
Bertie has not returned from the Meltons’ these four days. He sent word that a party of guests from Oxfordshire was also detained, and as they were excellent company he found it gratifying to stay.
It is rather disappointing that my company is not so desirable to him.
June 1820
Bertie came home in high spirits. He is never so happy as in the company of good friends. His father, however, has taken very ill, and there was quite a row.
I have always tried to be as comforting and loyal after Bertie argues with his father, but in this, I confess, his father has a good point. Bertie ought to spend more time at Kenlington, not less. Bertie thought I was disloyal for saying so. Is it not my place to speak my mind? I had thought we could speak freely to each other, but Bertie seemed to resent it.