The Diary of Lady Isobel Crane - January 1, 1885

Resolution 1 – No more murder.

It can be said of the last year, when I solved no less than five murders amongst the ton, that the entire business—while invigorating—was quite exhausting. Not to my mental faculties, but to my wardrobe. Subsequently, poor Evans’s constant devotion to washing and mending far exceeded usual duties and has rendered my lady’s maid into a constant state of polite agitation. No. For the sake of poor Evans I must resolve to put this thoroughly sordid business behind me.

For example, the Case of the Tiresome Steward. As I chased the dastardly Sir Harrison through Green Park on midsummer’s night, I caught my foot in a divot and destroyed my finest pair of kid gloves as I fell. Not to mention the prodigious tear through the front of my silk gown that really could not be mended. The overlay of French lace was dear (I could never let George know how dear, of course) and I loved it so. Evans did try her best, but there really was no saving it.

I also recall the Ashton Prentice Incident. The hat I lost was from one of the finest milliners in all of London and I miss it greatly. The ostrich feathers were of superb quality and even George, who has no notice of such things, remarked quite favorably upon them when I donned it for the day. Such a loss. Evans did attempt to clean the hat, but unfortunately the vitriol that Mr. Prentice had tossed towards Miss Kettle did its damage. If I had not thrown the hat in the line of fire, as it were, Miss Kettle would have been burned by acid in place of the ostrich feathers. Nasty business. Prentice went to prison, Miss Kettle returned to Kent, and my hat was given over to the dust cart.

All said, I must not force Evans (or my wardrobe) into any equivalent efforts this year. No more, I say.

Resolution 2 – Find another means to exercise my mind.

I have considered the most glaring implication of giving up solving murders, and it is the absolute boredom I will be forced to endure if I do not find a suitable alternative with haste. Perhaps…

• Sewing – will not do. I haven’t the patience.
• Riding – will not do. Most elements of the outdoors bring on fits of sneezing.
• Cards – will not do. Games of chance are tedious. Games of skill, too simple to be diverting.
• Hosting – will not do. For a variety of reasons, much to George’s chagrin, I simply abhor a ball.

No. I shall need something brilliant and complex. Study the movements of the heavens? Or the many glorious creatures whose bones grace the halls of the British Museum (Natural History)? Perhaps I can persuade George to take my advice about his current investments, although I am not sure he will do so after I mistakenly accused his man during the Adventure of the Solicitous Solicitor.

Alas! I cannot see a path forward, nor can I name a single suitable alternative. I shall have to discuss it with my dearest friend, Milly.

Resolution 3 – Encourage Smith to expand our collection of herbs and exotic plants in the glass house.

I daresay, Smith should pull his head out of the garden shed and take my plans under advisement. If he had followed my suggestion last spring, I might not have come so close death this past autumn. Whilst investigating the Oxford Emerald Affair, I would have been much better prepared to identify the poisonous plants in the bouquet offered to the Somerville girl and could have cornered her murderer much more quickly. In fact, I might not have missed the henbane that resulted in my…well, best not to talk about one’s failures. If I had but a better opportunity for study, I would be better prepared. But does Smith yet agree with my plan to plant a Poison Garden? No! He worries after my safety, and George (dear, precious George) seems to be in agreement.

It's preposterous. Milly would know what to say. She has such a way with people. I shall entreat her assistance in the matter, and I know for certain that Smith could never say no to her.

Resolution 4 – Be a better friend and confidant to Mildred.

Mrs. Mildred Lovering has been a dear companion of mine since our school days, and I wish to always remain this close. She has the patience of the angels and the countenance of a fine painting by an Italian master. Merely being in her presence is enough to make men fall all over themselves in a battle for her attentions, although she only has eyes for her beloved husband, Mr. Francis Lovering. It’s convenient that he and George get on so splendidly.

I feel such sympathy for Milly at the loss of her aunt, and so suddenly, too. Miss Waghorn was her sponsor the season we came out, and as she practically raised my friend, Milly returned the favor and housed Miss Waghorn in her townhouse this past season and beyond. But for the lady—of six-and-thirty—to have passed away so suddenly was surprising. Milly is devastated and has insisted on wearing mourning for twice the expected two months. I admit, I was with George in the country when the lady died, but I hurried back to London as soon as our guests had left. Milly had been glad to see me, but arriving two weeks late to a dear friend’s side after such a tragedy is poor form. Miss Waghorn died in her sleep with no warning. Thankfully, Milly’s uncle and the lady’s brother, Mr. Thaddeus Waghorn, had been visiting. Milly even said that despite the animosity between the siblings, Mr. Waghorn had brought Miss Waghorn’s favorite biscuits. At least she had something delicious to eat before she… before…

Oh dear. The biscuits. Her favorite, special biscuits. Biscuits only Miss Waghorn would eat, and eat them all.

I really must speak with Smith about his assistance with the Poison Garden. And write to Milly straight away.

Resolution 5 – Next year, make the resolution “no more murder.”