The last social event of the festive season, thank goodness! It has been quite exhausting, but now it's practically over I can give Mrs. LeRoux my notice without giving her an attack of the vapours as well. Perhaps tomorrow.

This promises to be an amusing weekend. The chefs, Messieurs Anton and Anton, while obviously culinary geniuses, appear to be quite, quite mad. They're terribly nice to the servants but woe betide anyone from upstairs who dares to make a suggestion! It has been great fun tasting all the delicious dishes they are preparing for the ladies and gentlemen for tomorrow's grand dinner, and I have to say they are very generous with the cooking sherry and the brandy! Happily Crichton, the butler, is there to keep a watchful eye on things. Tried to get them all paranoid whilst serving dinner by pointing out there were thirteen seated at table, but everyone was too busy gossiping about Paris fashions and poetry.

Athena tried to get artistic after dinner. She's convinced there's some mystical link between the Agnew amethyst and Catherine's emerald, and with the Prof, the Major and Doctor Staunton she tried making a mask like the African one that Isabel Montgomery remembers. I was sent upstairs to discourage any disturbances, but Jackson tells me that it was most amusing - there they were, grown adults, making faces out of gems and bits of ivy like children in a kindergarten. Needless to say nothing happened, I'm not sure what they were expecting!

Early to bed tonight. I have written my letter of resignation!

Saturday, 12th January 1900

What a wonderful day. Started at 6.30am (nice lie-in, Christmas treat!), and I got up to polish the silver for Athena's tea tray. She was most pleased to see the piping hot tea and the rose bud in the vase, and somewhat less pleased to see the letter of resignation. Unfortunately by then I was serving tea to the rest of the household to help out the other servants, and Athena thought I had already left, and eloped with some young man! When I explained to her about uncle Marmaduke's will she congratulated me warmly. Really, I couldn't have asked for a better mistress. She then finished her congratulations by inviting me on a shopping trip to Paris and suggesting I join the ladies and gentlemen for their Twelfth Night dinner tonight! I do have a dress I could wear, but I hope the other servants can manage. At breakfast Athena told the Company of my good fortune and they were terribly nice, and Mrs. Petrie formally invited me to dinner.

A telegram arrived for Athena this morning. I don't know of the contents (a lot of gobbledegook about crows and dark glasses) but there appears to be some confusion as to whence it came, and indeed from whom. It was marked with the TransAtlantic cable, but one of the Company went to the Post Office to check and apparently they have no record of a telegram sent to Mrs. LeRoux from there. Naturally the Company assumed it had been sent from the Lost City of Atlantis, under the Atlantic Ocean, halfway between England and America. They even think it might be linked to making the funny face last night! Perfectly logical, as ever.

In the meantime, I still have to work my notice. It's great fun working with M. Anton and Anton, whenever a gentleman comes blustering into the kitchen and getting in our way, one of the chefs will scream at them to get out of their kitchen! Have to make a big effort not to laugh - until the gentleman in question has left of course.

After a walk round King's Lynn I had to dress for dinner. I must say that this high society stuff is not what I expected. Sherry reception - does one serve oneself or wait to be served? Eventually, gasping for a drink, I served myself. In the kitchens this is not a problem! Then we had to go down to dinner and I was sat between Brigadier Flashman and Viscount Buffington, and had to make polite dinner conversation. This is SO DIFFICULT! Downstairs we just sit quietly and eat, but oh! What on earth does one say? Obviously everyone wanted to know all about uncle Marmaduke's will, but I hardly know much about it myself. (I hope the cracker mottos are not prophecies - mine read "Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.") I also told them all about Pearl's disappearance as well - I still haven't heard from her after she failed to appear at Maisy's Tea Rooms. Luckily these aristocratic types love the sound of their own voice, so the trick is to just nod and smile and say "Oh, how terribly interesting/exciting/amusing" until the soup course arrives.

How traitorous I felt, being served by Jackson and Crichton. It was all I could do not to jump up and put on an apron. Still, there are advantages to having friends downstairs - I got the cuts of goose that I liked the best, and the first serving of trifle! The food was wonderful, they did their signature dish - Enchanted Broccoli Forest. My corset was getting more uncomfortable by the mouthful! M. Anton Brun showed his sadistic side by practically forcing Viscount Buffington to continue eating Christmas pudding until he found the sixpence. The poor chap was a bit green by the time he found it. How we all laughed!

It was when we were on to the port and yummy chocolate truffles that it got really fraught. Some damn fool put the port down, and I was waiting an age to top up my glass (I was pretty convinced that port was the only way I was going to get through this). Eventually I cracked and asked Miss Catt to pass the port over to me. I have never seen such a fuss. Lord Brockett looked like he'd got a fishbone stuck in his throat and Viscount Buffington jumped so high you'd think someone has put a firecracker under his chair. These so-called gentlemen then proceeded to practically tick me off for not passing the port to the left! I will remember that moment next time they need me to cover up their appalling cock-ups and borderline murders. (Note: start collecting hard evidence, I need some hold over these imbeciles.) I tried to reason with them but its a bit pointless arguing etiquette with these inbreeds. So I just poured myself a big glass of port and passed it on to the Brigadier.

THEN (and this is the choice bit) Lord Brockett asked me if I wanted to become a member of the Company of Crimson! It was ever so difficult to remain courteous. I have spent the last couple of years clearing up the ghastly messes that these people make. I have seen first hand the effects they have on the innocent (that poor serving girl at Skipton Castle for example), and I have extricated them from brushes with the law. Obviously I cannot wait to join these dangerous lunatics. I stalled for time, and happily the matter dropped.

Great fun after dinner, some bright spark suggested that the fops do the washing up. Even better, I was exempt! So I got to have a nice drinkie with Jackson and Crichton while others slaved. Hurrah. I must say the pantomimes that the ladies and gentleman had been practising all afternoon were jolly good - Sleeping Beauty and Aladdin. It was most confusing when some strange old washerwoman turned up to play Aladdin's mother, but at the end imagine our amazement when Brigadier Flashman unmasked himself! He really is a master of disguise. Then we played a game where you had to bash a box of sweets with a wooden stick. I imagined it was Lord Brockett and got a few sound thwacks in.

All in all, an educational night. Of course, I'm back downstairs tomorrow as I still have to work my notice, but I can wait. Still worried about Pearl, though - Athena is willing to come to Whitby with me and investigate. I do hope she's all right.