Harp's Manor

INSTALLMENT VIII

April 28, 1928

Friday was, for want of a better word, a fiasco.

The root of the dilemma, as it so often is in this house, was Miss Hansen. The woman is just so very annoying. I can't believe I looked forward to meeting her a little more than a month ago! The only person's company I could wish for less is Mr. Griffiths, and at this point even that is debatable.

Speaking of whom, he has not been able to leave me alone lately. Mr. Griffiths will randomly pop into the music room, make snide observations, and leave or get forcibly removed by Audrey. He has been trying to catch my attention at dinner, I believe, but Miss Jacobs is not the only one who can ignore piercing stares and annoying comments. He even approached me while I was walking out to meet Mr. Forrest for our painting session, and asked me directly in front of Mr. Forrest, who was clearly waiting for me, if I would reconsider his offer for a walk! I said no, of course, but he wouldn't leave us alone. Unable to concentrate, I suggested to Mr. Forrest that we remove ourselves back inside. He readily agreed.

We re-entered the manor at around three. I had been attempting to paint a tree, but the canvas only looked like it had been splattered with muddy water. "I don't know what to do with it," I sighed as we trekked up the steps.

"Hold on to it, and hopefully you may finish it next week," Mr. Forrest said. "Unless, of course, you'd wish to reschedule our session for tomorrow."

"I'd rather not. The Doppelgangers will be arriving then, and I don't want to miss them."

We never got back to painting this week. The ugly thing is hidden behind Mossy Barn, mostly because I'd rather not look at it. I was going to tear it up and donate the scraps to Miss Pearce, figuring she may have a use for them, but decided that Mr. Forrest may wonder where it went, and that I didn't want to explain that to him.

Speaking of Miss Pearce (I know I am getting so very sidetracked; allow me this brief interlude and I shall resume the narrative of Adella Hansen), her partner crafts with the other members of Harp's Manor have begun to pop up around the mansion. I have not yet located the music box Audrey spoke of, but a hilariously sparkly statuette of Miss Burgess appeared in the hallway outside my door the other day. The thing is dripping in rhinestones, and rests atop a little chest full of I know not what. A miniature wheel rests on the end of one of the bookshelves in the parlor. I assume Miss Pearce made it, because I can't imagine anyone else would. The artistic spread has even reached our little hideout of the music room, with the placement of glass flowers on the cover of the piano livening the place up. Mr. Hobbes has audibly complained of them numerous times, insisting that they distract his 'musical genius,' but we have ignored him.

I have passed through the foyer a number of times, and am upset to report that you cannot even see our glove-box from below. I assume it's still there, at least; I haven't checked. I cannot remember when Miss Pearce said the granite or marble would arrive. Hopefully soon; I do wish to remove the poor little thing from its isolation.

Now I may begin to retell the exhausting events of Friday.

I had ventured downstairs again and was crossing the foyer, when I was nearly knocked down by Miss Hansen. She was quite a sight to behold. Her face was livid red, with her blonde curls swishing around her face like the branches of a tree on a fiercely windy day. She was covered by a large furry coat and wore a hastily placed chapeau on her head. In her hands were a few bags, stuffed to the brim with what appeared to be clothing. She likely would have pushed me out of the way had I not jumped back in surprise. It was quite rude, to be honest.

A second later, a servant burst from the hall she had just exited, waving his hands frantically. "Miss Hansen, please! We beg of you to stay!"

"You're leaving?" I asked, my shock growing.