Dear world, my name is Evalyn and I was told to write of my day–for future family. I must write an account of every day, Carson will check every night. But i wasn’t given any rules. I suppose i could write about me; what i like, what i do. But it seems that would be awfully boring. Yet so would my day to day activities. Most days pass in a blur, exactly the same as the day before. Mother says thats how much of life is and one must get used to it. But i disagree. Many people’s lives seem exciting, at least more so than mine. But i can’t change my life–i’m trapped as i am, in this awful position. (i thought it best to cut that word since mother and father both might read this and they believe me to be satisfied, which i suppose i should be.) So, i suppose, i’m stuck writing about me or my day, and i apologize to you now, for i have no doubt both will be awfully dull. Yet here it is, my first page. And i dare not demand you to read on if it isn’t wished, for i believe if i had to read it, i’d rip my hair out. Yet, every day i’ll be forced here, to write. And i suppose i should get on with it, for Carson is probably on his way. He is my tutor and if not for his reading it, i would fill this page with every insult i can think of, for he deserves it. I wish he would leave. Father only keeps him because he is his cousin, It’s positively unbelievable that royal blood could fill such a man. I wont cross this out, for he knows i despise him entirely, but i will write on, otherwise he will take this to father and i will be forced to apoligize.
In my studies today, i learned some french, which was positively as dull as it sounds. Then i spent some time with Winifred, my black thoroughbred; roaming through the estate which gets old quite fast. So i went and finished my needlework with Alura, my servant. She said my picture was turning out beautifully. It was of the Winter palace (which i feel would be far more enjoyable in the summer, but mother feels summer should be spent near the sea so i cannot disagree.) and was destined to be a pillow case. I feel it would be much more stunning as a small tapestry in the side hall outside my room–my goal is to convince Alura to feel the same, which shouldn’t be too hard. Then mother and i had supper in the small dining hall. It was simple meal since father was not there, he was at the winter palace for some political affair, something boring that i convinced mother to stay away from. Well, i suppose i also didn’t wish to go because Frederic would be there and he is the last man i wish to see. Except maybe Carson.
Carson just came in to check this–he calls it my “Memoirs”, which seems a rather ridiculously fancy word for something so simple. But that doesn’t matter. He left in a huff after he finished reading it. It was satisfying to see him turn so red. Mother says i should be nicer to him, but he is awful and she doesn’t have to spend nearly every day in his company. Anyway, i was talking about Frederic.
Mother and father both expect me to marry him, when the time comes of course. He is supposedly the most suitable: the son of the prince of a neighboring country. His father will never be king; he was the second son and so Frederic will never be king either. Unless some sort of plague kills every other line of royalty. So hopefully that is never. He is well educated and somewhat handsome. But he is so dull. Of course, everyone says he would grow on me. Mother goes as far to say i’d hate anyone she found simply because i was, and i quote, a “wild spirit”. I hardly agree. If she arranged me to Jefferson, i’d be completely happy. He works in the stables doing…something or other. I think he trains the horses. But, besides his obvious peasantry faults, mother would never make the match. He was far too old (he is probably thirty-three and i hardly sixteen) and not at all handsome. Yet he was kind–always did what i asked, but he did it with dignity that surprised me. All my other servants look wide-eyed and sickly when i speak to them. But Jefferson at least smiles when he bows. He calls me e-ay, says i remind him of his daughter (who i think must be dead since i never see her.). And he teaches me more than Carson ever does. Why, just today, he told me butterflies came from a worm. He even showed me a nest where they became beautiful. He said it was a cocoon. Mother thinks its horrid that i talk to a commoner so much, and normally i would too. But he doesn’t bother me, maybe I’m just completely bored.
I suppose i should stop writing, it is getting late and if mother knew i was up, she’d probably strangle me. “Beauty sleep is needed sleep” is her motto. She is in bed before the sun goes down and usually stays asleep till long after the sun comes up. Which, to me, is a ridiculous life–even more boring than mine. Maybe that will change; my boring life, i mean. Caroline is coming tomorrow and staying till summer. She is my cousin; i’ve never met her. She lives somewhere south of here and is about to become queen over there. But she’s my age, which is terrifying–that she is almost queen, i mean. Her parents both got sick while she was studying abroad and died soon after she got home. I hope that doesn’t happen to me. If i became queen right now i might die. But she wishes to spend her last months as a young women with someone her age. Mother says she’s been stuck with the gentlemen and ladies of the court, delegates from different countries, tutors and priests for months since her parents died. They’ve all been teaching her the ways of the country and such. And when mother heard, she immediately sent for her to spend the months with us. I’m a bit nervous. She must be so grown up, becoming queen and all. But there is nothing i can do now. I have to sleep.
So farewell, my memoirs, till tomorrow. Maybe life wont be so dull then.
Evalyn
* Find the rest on the “Evalyn’s Memoirs” Page *
