Dearest Journal,

What, precisely, am I supposed to do with my time? Without Ace at home I feel my days are far too empty of activities. No longer do I have balls and soirees to plan for. Nor invitations to teas or fern hunting parties to fill my days. Because of mother I am not permitted social calls, nor do I suspect that I would have many if this were not the case. But not even dearest Helga or Nora brave a visit or even a letter. I admit, I do feel lonely when Ace is not here. I do not know what to do, or who to speak to. What are the duties I may occupy myself with as wife while I live at someone else’s home?

I shall have to find something to occupy my time beyond my confidences to you. At home I might have gone riding or shopping or even planned a tea, all of these things I am sure if I could do. Perhaps not a tea as I am not fool enough to think someone might actually accept my invitation, nor do I believe it appropriate so soon after mother’s passing. But I could go riding, I suppose, or perhaps shopping is more feasible. I hardly doubt the club is an option right now, either. London is so different than the countryside, but surely there must be more to do than simply shop? Surely the countryside must have some beautiful sights if I wished to ride? But then it is also the Lukeson home and I am not the mistress of it. I shall have to content myself with making myself as little an inconvenience as possible.

Perhaps I shall have to shop for a few books to entertain myself with, as right now my dearest friend (besides you) is my needle and thread when Ace is away.

Lucille