We lost little James this morning. Not lost as in he died, I hasten to add, but he was missing for several hours. Poor Gertie was out of her mind with worry. We searched everywhere. At first Clive was sure that James was hiding in the tree house he'd built the twins for Christmas, but all he found in there were two toy soldiers and a broken catapult.
It was Samuel who found James in the end. The boy had been playing with Tess, the stray dog that Samuel took in, and apparently had followed the dog into the woods, where they had a fine time, judging by James's torn clothes and muddy face and hands. Gertie scolded him of course, but James has inherited Gertie's fierce rebellious nature, I fear. He showed no remorse for the worry he had caused everyone, and in fact, was quite indignant when Gertie forbade him to play with the dog again until he apologized to everyone. We are still waiting for the apology and no doubt will wait an eternity.
Spring cleaning will begin in earnest next week. The maids will be busy taking down the curtains in every room, washing them and drying them on the clothesline in the kitchen yard. The carpets will have to be washed, and the mattresses taken off all the beds and thoroughly aired. The chimneys must be cleaned, and every window in the entire County Club washed and polished. I shall be hiring extra maids to help out. Our maids already have their hands full with everyday duties.
Baxter will largely disappear while all this activity is going on. He despises the fact that he is likely to encounter a busy maid in every corner of the building, and bitterly complains that he has no privacy. So he usually stays in London during the spring cleaning. I would never say so to him, but it's actually a relief to have him out from underfoot while all this is going on. I love my husband dearly, but sometimes he can be quite objectionable when disturbed.
Enough for this week. I have bills to pay and renovations to consider. Until the next time, I remain,
Cecily Sinclair Baxter