1st January, 1891
A new journal for a new year, a literal blank page to accompany the figurative. Last year's journal will, of course, be furnished with an ink-spraying charm and hidden with the others under my mattress at Hogwarts—close at hand in case I should need to reference it, but safe from prying eyes who might wish to know my deepest secrets.
Then again, one must be found interesting in order for others to wish to pry into their lives.
My time at home—though it remains difficult for me to consider the Bartonburg house to be home—will soon draw to a close, as the Christmas holidays are nearly concluded. The year 1891 will also see Verity and Grace, in effect, out into society, with their first proper season slated for the springtime. I should not be surprised, given that the year of mourning for our father has passed, and I know Verity, at least, must be excited. Still, now that some time has passed and my shock has ebbed, I shall address with clearer head the revelations as to my own future.
I am certain he thinks he must be doing a boon, else Ford never would have made such a decision (or dared tell me about it!), but I must say I cannot embrace his revelation that, when one sister leaves the family home, I am to return to it as a debutante. Never mind that I have already begun my N.E.W.T. studies and all my friends are still at Hogwarts: it seems as though he is insisting that I must be a wife! True, within our family this does seem like something of an inevitability, but if I cannot complete my studies, how can I keep other doors (or at least windows) open for myself? For all my brother knows, I would be the next Adelia Lovegood: a spinster who squandered her prospects. If that should happen, I should at least like the option of a career to keep me company.
It also seems so dreadfully rushed—assuming Verity or Grace find a husband swiftly, at least. Why should both my sisters be afforded a completed education and I relegated to bits and scraps at the end?
If Ford is to be resolved in this arrangement, than it shall be my own resolution to delay this eventuality as much as possible. After all, a little mischief can go a long way.
— set by mj —