1901

December 31st, 1900

It’s the very last night of the century. Mother and Father have thrown a grand gala party for all the blue-blooded families. My callow nature is the reason I am up in my room now, rather than downstairs enjoying the festivities. But I don’t mind too much. I would rather be up here writing in my diary than downstairs engaging in conversation with some of the most loathsome people I know. Mother says my temperament is childish, but even at 14 I don’t think I’m too old to point out the bad manners of Ernest Aster, or the terrible fashion sense of Thelma Barclay, or the obnoxious way Ethel Thatcher flutters her eyelashes, and plays with her hair, in what she hopes is a charming way, to flirt with the soldiers. I think that I am a good deal more mature than most of the people at Mother and Fathers parties. But now I must put the past behind me, because tomorrow will be the first day of the new century, and I know this will be a good 100 years. I just know it will be.

January 7th, 1901

How right I was! It’s only been a week into the new century, and we have already been showered in blessings. Aunt Fannie had her baby. A tiny, gorgeous girl named Lillian. Cousin Freddy has made a miraculous recovery from diphtheria. And we heard that Elizabeth and Grandmother are coming up from Blackpool to visit next week. Oh, it’s impossible to explain how much I have missed my dear sister while she was away. If so many good things can happen in just the first week, that must mean something good for the rest of the age.

January 15th, 1901

How wrong I am! We haven’t entered a century of blessings. Rather, a century of false hope and sadness. Lilian isn’t feeding properly and is getting skinnier by the day. Freddy has unexpectedly fallen into critical condition. But worst of all, my dear Sister and Grandmother are lost. They left Blackpool on track to arrive here on time, but it’s been eight days, and no one has heard from them, or their chauffeur. Nobody is sure what has happened, but Mother and Father keep telling me that I must expect the worst. And, just as terrible, Mother is hosting another party! Now! When we ought to be sending out fleets of people out to search for our loved ones! Doesn’t anyone but me care about poor, sweet Lizzy, and dear, fragile old grandmother? Or should we simply put on a brave face, and continue life as normal, hosting horrible parties and currying favour with the dreadful upper-class? I know which one I prefer, but I don’t know which is right. All I know is that from now on, I hate this new age.

January 22nd, 1901

The most terrible thing has occurred. Along with this new century has come the death of our beloved Queen Victoria. She died last night at the Isle of Wight. Mother had promised that she would take me to see the queen this year, but I don’t care much for seeing a dead body, queen or otherwise. I do not know who will succeed her, but it will surely be someone with much less style and bravery. A major highlight of my life had been travelling to London for our Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, the grandest celebration I’d ever laid eyes on. At nine, I’d begged mother to host one just like it for my next birthday, but she had dismissed it, saying that the procession was nice, but rather lacking practicality. She didn’t seem to understand that celebrating a Diamond Jubilee is a very important occasion and isn’t supposed to be practical. I loved Queen Victoria. Although she was a good deal more composed than me, I always hoped that I would be as talented and brave as her. There were so many things I’d wished to tell her, but no such thing could happen now. Curse this new century.

January 31st, 1901

Still no news of Liz or Grandmother.

February 6th, 1901

Dreadful, dreadful, utterly horrendous news! Another false start for me! Mother hates my bad temperament, but she and Father said that they had decided to let me fix it on my own. Now, they’ve revealed their sinister plan. They wish to send me away to a boarding school in Leicester! Ever since I was school age, I’ve had private tutoring at our Manor, but now, after nine years, they’ve finally had enough of me. I’m sure that there are worse children than me. If only they could see Cora Schmidt at Sunday school, or Eric Plummer, the grocer’s son, I’m sure they would change their minds. I’ve tried to tell them that it is sure to be horrible there, but Father only reprimanded me, saying that I had read to many silly books, and that real boarding schools aren’t anything like those in stories. But I know it will be terrible. I’m sure that I’ll be in constant trouble, and the other children there are sure to be mean and uppity. And I’ll never know what is going on at home! So very, very appalling

March 2nd, 1901

I’m at boarding school. It is terrible. Very boring and almost no time to write. I’m lucky to fit in one page a fortnight. And we have five girls a dorm. There are some nice girls, but mostly they ignore me. It isn’t enjoyable. It really is like my story books.

June 13th, 1901

It’s June already, and I haven’t written for months. My form mistress confiscated my diary when she caught me writing in it after curfew. If Mother and Father sent me here with the intention of fixing my temper, it’s had quite the opposite effect. Without my diary to write in, I shared my thoughts with all the other girls instead, often mortifying them. But now it is the June holidays, and I have my diary back. What a relief it is to write in it again, and even more so to finally be home again. This year is still not going well though, and there is no news of Lizzy or Grandmother.

June 15th, 1901

The most wonderful, happy, exciting, greatest news in the world! Finally, after so many months we have heard word from dear Lizzy. Her and grandmother have spent the last while in a hospital in Birmingham recovering from a cab-crash, but now both are fine to return home. I am so very glad that neither were killed, not even frail old grandmother. And they will be coming to see us soon. But now I am confused, because this year had a false start, but now it has had a false end, and things, happy things are happening afterwards.

July 1st, 1901

I’m up in my room now writing, but by choice this time. I really needed to get away from Cousin Freddy’s raucous game of tag. We are having a party today, but I rather enjoy this one. Its in celebration of our new king, (well, he isn’t king yet, but he will be) Prince Edward. I love Prince Edward, almost as much as I loved Queen Victoria. Lizzy and I spent the first hour of the congregation coddling little Lilian. Oh, it’s been such a joyous day, especially after Mother and Father, both offered me praise on my patience and composure amidst my cousins’ rowdy games, and often bad manners. Perhaps there is a chance to be released from my school term prison. Why not? After all, this is the century of false starts, false ends, and finally, happily ever afters.