Dearest Diary,
I dare say that the evening leaves me quite exhausted. I have done little since arriving back at the estate, but read and shiver. The winter air's cool has extended to the sitting room, where for lack of a fireplace, I have been unable to get such a fire going. I suspect that is fortunate, however my extremities are turning a pallid shade of blue. I had taken to relocating to this shire in order that the frigid climate would not so much as even take a respite visit here, but I'm afraid the past few evenings have felt like a fortnight of cold. Rather like that of an unwanted cousin or other relative. I fear the thought of catching cold or something perhaps even more violent.
I am sure that if such were the case, the prospect of taking leave of home in order to mingle among stately gentlemen would be all but impossible. Nevertheless, my spirits were lifted at the surprise visit of my mother and sister and a gift of a blue woven sweater. It will look splendid with the new shade in my fingers and toes.
At least it should provide another shield against the increasingly declining temperatures tomorrow...
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