White Light

[Journal Entry - 4 July 1773]

In the early morning hours yesterday, I arose and made my way to the stables to take my mare for the day's ride.  I advised my maid that I would be back in time for tea as I had many stops to make that day.  She protested, of course, that I had not had anything to eat.  She is determined that I take better care of myself.

As the boy fetched and geared Barrow (named after a particularly long-faced Governess I had as a child),  I contemplated my life.  A rather meaningless occupation for one newly twenty, but my lack of suitable suitors was a constant ghost, haunting me.  Mama threw every Earl, Duke and Count my way, but either they had no interest in a silly young girl, or I no interest in dull men.  Papa constantly threatened the convent, but as he had not wrapped me in a modest cloak and shipped me off to Coldingham Monastery, I surmised that it was merely his way of keeping me in line. 

Atop Barrow, my main concern was getting where I needed to go with as little of nature's decoration as possible.  The roads were thick with mud after so much rain.  A carriage was quite out of the question.  I had to see Mrs. Hill - our blacksmith's wife, who'd taken ill - to ask after her health; to see the Vicar, to make a donation to the fund for newly opened orphanage; and to speak with a number of others on various personal matters.  Some may think that a politely written letter would suffice; I disagree. Certain things should be done in person, and personally, to my mind.

I did not make it off the estate when something spooked the horse. She reared.  I remember screaming as I lost my grip and flew.  A thousand things flooding my mind in the blink of an eye.  Then nothing more.

I cannot be sure how long I lay on the road, but as it is part of the estate, no stranger would have found me, and as I was to be gone the entire day, no servant came to look for me.

Barrow was gone.  I do not know where to.  I merely brushed myself clean as best I could, and had great difficulties in keeping myself upright.  My hat hid any marks left by the road and I was able to struggle back to the house without being seen.  Katie knocked and I sent her away, saying that I was feeling poorly, and to ask the cook to send up some broth.  She would leave it on the table in the sitting room, I knew, so I made my way into my dressing room and fell back onto the chaise.

I took stock of myself.  Legs were in working order, though quite weak.  I was not bleeding, or at least that I knew of, still dressed in my riding habit.  But the one maddening thing was the light.  The candle light seemed magnified a hundred... nay... a thousand times.  I could not bear to open my eyes, so brilliant and intrusive.

After a long night's rest, it seems to have subsided some, though I still have a residual halo around all things, as if all things were framed in a heavenly aura.  I shall have to cleverly use paste and powders to hide some discoloration along my cheekbones but all in all, feel quite fortunate to have sustained only minor injuries.