Has anyone else found diary pages? Or have the dates for when their pages were written? I thought it might be good to take a look at the full story, if we can.
24 April 1891
Oh Diary! I had the most delightful night at Lord Earnshaw's ball I met a most devilishly charming man. Reginald T. Carstairs. I don't believe I've seen him before this season--or even this ball. But that is just the sort of chance I have hoped for. Perhaps he is recently back from the colonies on some debonair and dreadfully important work for the Queen. Or a war in Africa! I am certain Lord Carstairs has an endless panoply of exciting tales, but truly, dear diary, I was so lost in his deep green eyes that I couldn't tell you!.
He is recently widowed, though hopefully not so heart-broken that he will not come calling on me again...
9 July 1891
Reginald took me out for a ride today in the countryside. Diary, this marks the third time I have seen him in a month! Mother thinks that is evidence enough of his intentions to make me the third Mrs. Reginald Carstairs. Imagine that! (I know I do often!)
He is such a busy man, with his letters and his business, I cannot believe a man such as him is able to make time for a girl like myself. He is so inaccessible, but his eyes are like fire when he looks at me. Diary, dare I say I may be terrified by how much I could love this man.
22 May 1893
Diary, I haven't much time as today has been such a whirlwind, but they say if you do not stop and record this sort of thing you may forget it.
Today Reginald and I were wed!
The ceremony was lovely! A small intimate affair in the chapel of his home--he didn't wish a church wedding, it is his third after all, and I'm happy if he's happy. Then we had a lavish all in the ballroom. The weather was too poor to dine out of doors like we had planned, but I do think they say gray skies on a wedding night, clear skies ahead
My dress was astonishing, French silks and Spanish laces, a veil hand-tatted in Italy. And let you tell you about the flowers…
1 December 1894
They never tell you about marriage how dreadfully tedious it can be to be Lady of the Manor when your Lord is far afield. I feel trapped here, pinned against the walls of this house like a butterfly in one of Reginald's collections. Unable to leave unaccompanied and invisible it seems to the staff.
I wonder what happened, dear Reggie seemed so doting and fawning during our courtship. Yes, his business is important, but I too should be. Did I convince myself matrimony would be something that it is not?
Were my dear David not visiting me so frequently, I should think I would be entirely swallowed here.
22 November 1895
I do believe there is still some good left in my husband. Though he spoke violently before we parted--I remaining here to oversee repairs to the windows and him off on another one of his travels, this time to a University in Massachusetts in America, I believe--and though our letters have been quite terse in the intervening weeks, he showed a depth of contrition I was not quite certain he had in him.
He brought back the most precious and lifelike doll crafted in porcelain. She is dressed in sweet and delicate miniature clothes. I should think when I fortunate enough to fall full with child, should it be a girl, I will shower her with such dolls. Were it a boy--well let us hope he would not take after his father, but my own.
Although, if my husband thinks he can mend every argument with a doll, he has another thing coming. it.
14 March 1896
Diary, I am beyond mortified and in fear for where we go from here. Tonight, dear David joined Reginald and I for dinner. After dinner, we were drinking in the lounge when I clumsily managed to jam the lock on the globe concealing a safe that we keep there. Reginald was understandably upset.
David was unhappy with how Reginald grabbed me and intervened, decking him. I have not seen two men fight like that since my school days! But he has challenged Reginald to a duel in the morning! Oh Diary, I hope they can reconcile. I could not bear to lose my darling brother or my husband. But I worry neither will back down on this.
17 March 1896
I should have written sooner so as to not keep you waiting, Diary, but I can barely understand the past 48 hours myself. My brother has slain my husband in a duel over my honour.
My husband is dead. No more. We have arranged it so that it appears as though Reginald has gone off on another trip which solves the problem of David's culpability for now, but I have no idea what to do now that I am a widow..
But perhaps now my nightmare might finally be over.
24 March 1896
Diary, HE HAS RETURNED FROM THE GRAVE! Less than a fortnight ago, David slew Reginald in a duel, the physician confirmed as much and his body was dumped over the crags by the seashore. Yet today, Reginald returned with another damned doll as if he is back from
17 May 1896
We have settled into some strange equilibrium, Reginald and I. But since his return I truly fear him. He is darker, moodier, and spends all his time in the bedroom above the ballroom [OOC Note: Room 21]. The servants will not go in there, he will not allow it. I do not dare. I can only imagine what he does in there. I can hear him murmuring and mouthing obscenities to himself nearly any time I enter into that wing.
I worry around him, dear Diary. Yet I worry more what agitation my departure might bring. David thinks I should leave. I am inclined to agree, but it has been three years, I can wait a week more while David consults a mystic he met in University. If anyone knows of what has befallen my cursed husband, I pray this mystic will and that God keeps me safe until David's return.
22 May 1896
Today Reginald let his room. He looks as gaunt and skeletal as a long dead corpse. He chased me into the basement. Trapped, I only managed to escape by bludgeoning him over the head with a large pipe near the furnace. I escaped through the cellar doors and we have locked him down there, but I fear my blow only slowed him.
How does he not die? Is this some angry spirit craving revenge? Perhaps I have gone mad. Perhaps my husband hates me that much. I have not heard from David since he left.
28 May 1896
He has made it from the cellar. This house has too many secret passages and tricks to avoid him for too long. I grabbed a knife and fled through one to the library with Reginald behind me. I stabbed him, but it only slowed him. I ran to the attic and have barricaded myself in here, but he will find me, and I truly fear he will kill me.
There is nowhere else to flee. I still have not heard from David. This is the end of Reginald or myself or both. I will not easily Diary, but I am exceedingly uncertain if Reginald even can truly be killed.
Remember me.
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connor + jason + open to mod input 
