Rayburn

Feb 13th 1815
I’m exhausted, but I must write the events of the day before my mind no longer recalls them. My mother and I traveled to Rayburn in our favorite coach this morning. We chatted about the exciting winter and spring we will have staying with my sister Catherine, and her husband, Sir Grant. “Oh how silly he will be and how we will laugh!” “Do you think Catherine will be agreeable at all?” “Will she be sociable?” “She was so spiritless the last time we visited.”
When we arrived we were greeted with open arms from Grant, my sister after a few minutes meandered out to us to say hello. She seems to disagree with her husband’s excitable nature, how he finds such happiness in the silliest things. When they courted, she assumed he would grow out of his “immaturities”, but I’m convinced he will always be the brightest part of Rayburn. Not everyone in their social circle thinks as I do, there are prejudices against his going against the social “rule” of things. The few friends he has I’m sure will be just as friendly and spirited. I am determined to find my own new friends within his. This brings me to the most exciting part of the day. Once in the drawing room after our things were put away, Grant announced that he had invited his neighbor, and friend Mr. Ackerly to dine with us tomorrow night. I have heard many commendable things about him, and am thirsty for new society. I only hope my actions do not convey any fancy to be moved and molded into someone else, perhaps someone more suitable to have around. I am determined to be just me, respectable too of course because sometimes the two don’t necessarily go together.
My room for the next few weeks is a simple one, but how I love it. White linen covers the bed and tables. Green accents stripe the walls, and cover the night table. The mantle over the fireplace carries a beautiful clear vase of wild flowers. Mostly daisies, my favorite. The mildness of my room is so much more comforting than the room I left at Linwood. Violet satin covers everything there in a gaudy over done display. My father insists on my remembering my social status in everything I do. I feel I can breathe here. If it were approved I feel like I could let go, I would take my hair down mid day, pull my shoes off and giggle as I ran through the garden like a small child. I must not displease my family in letting myself completely go, but as I sit here anticipating anything that may come my way, I can feel a great happiness well up within me. Even my plain reflection of simple brown hair, pale skin and narrow features will not deter my excitement.
This evening right before heading up stairs Sir Grant approached me and with his sly sideways smile and whispered “You must rest, we will have fun tomorrow!” And then, he bowed and winked. Because that silly man said it, I may not sleep a wink tonight, I say in jest though I am tired. I wonder what he is planning.
I must put my pen down for the evening dear friend, for my eyes droop and I must give in to more dreams!