A/N: I wrote this for a Downton Abbey RPG as one of Mary's private diary entries, hence its rather broken nature. Set a couple of nights after Mary and Pamuk's fatal encounter.
I cannot. I
I used to keep a diary when I was seven or so years of age. My governess was convinced that it was the only way to get me to practise my handwriting. Perhaps she was right; I was as stubborn then as I am now. But the entries dried up soon enough; there were better things to do, and why would I ever need to write down my errant thoughts? The exercise seemed pointless as soon as this thought occurred.
I'm turning to pen and paper tonight because
I think this will help me
I wanted to
When Cousin Patrick died, I didn't grieve. I didn't know him, for all that he was supposed to be my fiancé. He was polite to me, and I was courteous to him, and we never crossed the boundaries we knew innately. Those boundaries were like steel bars to us; we never even thought of testing them. Now I see that they were flimsy wooden fences.
I think the reason why the death of Mr. Pamuk has
Why do I continue to write Mr. Pamuk, as if he were nothing but a Turkish diplomat come to stay? He was, of course, but he was so much more than another charming politician. I knew him. And he knew me. He was my ruin. He was my
I cannot write the word. It is foolish to write even this much; I shall have to burn this.
If he had not died, I would have lived eternally in fear that he would be indiscreet and word would somehow get out. Even though he assured me my husband would never know from my body, he might one day have reason to cause an outcry against me, and I would be destroyed. This way, there is no such threat; for all that there are more people who know, Anna and Mama would never have reason to harm me in such a way.
It's not as simple as that. I can write the facts, I can treat them logically, but I cannot stop this awful fear and grief. Kamal
Yes, I will write Kamal. He called me Mary.
To think that one day I will marry, and have this terrible secret in me!
To think that the person I was three days ago would have dealt with it calmly.
This has changed me, and that has scared me. I feel... I don't know how I feel, but I am feeling it strongly, more strongly than I have ever felt anything. I cannot
I will burn this.