Harp's Manor

INSTALLMENT XXXVIII

November 24, 1928

To think that I would come back from the brink of death, just to deal with a bunch of angry letters addressed to Mr. Forrest! What in the world did he say in the last installment to provoke such a visceral response?

We were sitting at breakfast together when the mail came in. Rather than the usual few letters of business, the platter was overflowing with nondescript envelopes. We were even more shocked when we read the writing on them and realized them to be addressed to Mr. Forrest. He wouldn't let me read a single one and burned all of them in the fire before I could manage to snatch one, but I assume they had something to do with the last installment. Due to his indignation, I doubt they related sympathetic sentiments.

I received a few letters myself, which thankfully arrived a few weeks prior to this date; otherwise, Forrest probably would've mistaken them for more angry letters and burned them as well. The first was from Inspector Cromwell, explaining much of what I already knew. I think it was rather dirty of him to imprison an innocent man in order to lure out the true culprit, but I suppose he can add the Assassin of Harp's Manor to his list of solved cases.

Speaking of which, Forrest has been unusually tempestuous lately, and it's rather jarring to see him so out of character; but I don't completely blame his month in prison for his foul mood. Our new mutual friend Mr. Young is very attached to Forrest. He idolizes him, in a way. I think it's funny; but already out-of-sorts from the detective's trick, Forrest doesn't think so. Hopefully Young will get the hint before he gets a paintbrush shoved down his throat.

The second letter was from Mr. Chute, informing me of his release and thanking me for remaining diligent, though I had little to do with the reveal of Hansen's guilt. Once she went through with her plan to destroy the ballroom and kill us all, there was nothing she could do that could change her fate. I still don't understand why she did it. Being unable to kill one person barely merits an attempt to kill eighteen of them at once. She must really be one barmy loon.

Jacobs fixed up the dress, by the way. It looks as splendid as ever. I think she did some retouching, too, because it has a certain shine about it now that suggests it's meant more for display than actual wear. I have no complaints; the single night I spent in it was enough for me. Now let's just hope our mystery thief, whom we still have yet to identify, won't snatch it before Mr. Gardner finds a proper hiding spot for it among the rest of our work.

Speaking of Mr. Gardner (I know this is rambling, and I apologize; but I have missed two weeks of excitement, and must have time to catch up), he and Miss Pearce are to be wed! Audrey informed me of this the other day, when I noticed the two of them behaving oddly intimate. I had no idea of such a development. Audrey tells me you already know, but I must have the time to be surprised, too, so you will forgive this repetitive news. To me, it seems a bit out of the blue; but then, I spend too little time with Miss Pearce to have even had a chance of seeing this coming. Miss Pearce, marrying the butler! It's a little strange certainly. I wonder if he will have to change his job, or really what will happen. I've never heard of someone marrying another person's servant before. I don't suppose Miss Pearce would have to take up permanent lodgings here, or even work—? No, that would be archaic. I suppose they've spoken with Mr. Harp about it; well, clearly they have, or they wouldn't be so certain of anything. It is an odd affair, but an excellent sort of odd.

While I am on the subject of love, I may as well mention a few key developments between Bridget and Stenhouse. Bridget has not given up, which surprises me; I thought for sure her infatuation would last no more than two weeks at most, but she continues to hanker after him. Now that Hansen has admitted to being the assassin, I am less distraught by Bridget's pursuit; even if he is our mystery thief, at least he's no murderer. Still, Stenhouse continues to make me feel uncomfortable in near indescribable ways. He appeared in my room during my healing period to wish me well, which was kind of him; but his attendance appeared more out of show than genuine feeling. He lurks in hallways, doing what, I can only imagine; and whenever he's not around, I can't help but wonder what he's up to. I have kept my feelings to myself, as Bridget appears to blush more around him every day, and I hope my worries are all simply lingering paranoia after Hansen's attacks.