I should have written in my journal before now, but these last months since my last entry have been so confusing-so difficult-that I have not been myself. Childish, I thought that by not writing, not recording the events that have unfolded, I could make it seem as if they had not happened-would not continue to happen.

I was so very wrong.

Everything changed, and I must use this journal as evidence. Even if I am losing my mind, it will show an unravelling of madness and as I originally hopped, provide a path for my treatment. If, as I am coming to suspect, I am not mad, a record of these events should be made and, might somehow, aid me if I must choose a new future.

Let me begin.

After that cold night in January when Father returned home, drunk, I have never waited up for him again and never will again. I tried not to think much on it-tried not to remember his breath, the hot and heavy feel of his hand and the things he'd said.

Instead when he departed for late dinner meetings, I wished him a good evening and said I would be sure Carson attended to him when he returned.

At first that stopped his burning looks. I was so busy with the running of Wheiler House that except for our dinners together I saw Father so very little.

Over the past months the dinners had changed. Well, rather the dinners hadn't changed-but the amount of wine Father consumed is what had changed. The more Father drank the more often his eyes burned into me as he bid me good night.

I began to carefully water his wine. He has yet to notice.

Then I threw all my attention into taking complete responsibility for running Wheiler House. Yes, Mary and Carson helped me . . . advised me. The cook made grocer lists, but I approved the menus. As Mary had once commented, it was as if my mother's spirit had taken over me and I was a girl no more.

I tried to tell myself that was a good thing-a lovely compliment. The truth was then as it is also is today-I think I did my duty and continued to do my duty-but I am not sure that is a good thing at all.

It is not simply the work of being Lady of Wheiler House that has changed me. It is how people began to change in their treatment towards me. Yes, at first I had been overwhelmed by the extent of Mother's duties. I'd had no idea that she not only ran the house, but she also, instructed the servants, saw to every detail of Father's routine, supervised me and volunteered twice a week at the General Federation of Women's Club. Helping to feed and care for the homeless women and children of Chicago. Mother had been dead for five months, and during that time I had completely dedicated myself to being Lady of Wheiler House. When Evelyn Field and Camille called me one mid-morning early last month, asking if I would like to join them in riding our bicycles to the shore and picnicking. I'd been overwhelmed with joy the freedom of the moment provided, especially as I had thought that Father had already left for the bank.

"Oh, yes!" I'd said happily, putting down my fountain pen and pushing aside the grocer list I'd been going over. I remember how happy Evelyn and Camille had been when I'd said yes. The three of us had laughed, very hard.

"Emily, I am so glad you will come with us." Camille had hugged me, "and you are looking well-not pale and thin at all."

"No, not pale and thin at all!" Evelyn agreed. "You're more beautiful than ever."

"Thank you, Evelyn; I have missed everyone so very much." I'd hesitated, feeling the need to share a confidence with someone who wasn't a servant-or my father for that matter. "It has been difficult since Mother died, really difficult." Camille had chewed her lip. Evelyn had looked as if she was on the verge of tears. I quickly wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and found my smile again. "Now that the both of you are here I'm feeling much lighter than I have for weeks and weeks."

"That's what we intended, Mother tried to tell me you were too busy to be bothered with bicycle riding, but I did not listen to her and called you anyway," Camille had said.

"Your mother is always too serious," Evelyn said rolling her eyes skyward. "We all know that."

"I don't believe she was ever young," Camille had said making us giggle.

I was still giggling as I hurried from the parlor determined to rush up the stairs and change as quickly as probable into my riding bloomers, when I'd run straight into Father.

The breath had been knocked out of me with an oof, and my eyes had teared.

"Emily, why would you be running from the parlor in such an uncivilized manner?" Father had seemed to be a storm cloud in the making.

"E-excuse me, Father," I'd stuttered. "Camille Elcott and Evelyn Field have called me and asked that I bike to the lake with them for lunch. I was hurrying to change my clothes."

"Bicycling is excellent for the heart. It creates a strong constitution, though I do not approve of young people biking together with no adult supervision."

I hadn't noticed the tall woman standing across the foyer from Father until she'd spoken. She'd taken me by surprise, and I'd stood their speechless, staring at her. In her deep blue dress and her peacock-plumed hat, she'd made quite an imposing figure, though one I had not recognized, and I'd wanted to say that I did not approve of old woman wearing wildly plumed hats, but of course I'd held my tongue.

"Emily do you not remember Mrs. Armour? She is chairwoman of the General Federation of Women's Club," Father had prompted me.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Armour. I apologize for not recognizing you." I had recognized her name now that Father had spoken it, but I could not remember the woman herself, "And-and I also apologize for rushing out," I continued hastily. "I do not mean to be impolite"-I'd turned and made a gesture that took in Evelyn and Camille where they were sitting in the parlor, watching with obvious curiosity-"As you can see, my friends are waiting for me. Father, I will ring for Mary to bring tea if you are entertaining Mrs. Armour in your study."

"You mistake me Miss Wheiler. It is you, and not you're Father with who I wish to visit."

I'd been confused and I believe I gasped rather stupidly at the old woman.

Father had not been confused. Emily, Mrs. Armour has called on you to speak about your inherited place at the GFWC. It was a passion of your mother's. I expect it to be a passion of yours as well."

My confusion cleared as I realized why the name Armour had been familiar. Philip Armour was one of the wealthiest men in Chicago and had kept much of his money in Father's bank. I'd turned to Mrs. Armour and made myself smile. Pitching my voice soft and soothing, just as Mother used to sound. "I would be honoured to inherit Mother's place at the GFWC. Perhaps we can set a date for me to come to Market Hall and meet with you about-"

Suddenly Father's big hand engulfed my elbow, squeezing while he comparison, "You will meet with Mrs. Armour, now Emily." In comparison to my gentleness, Father was like a battlefield. I heard Evelyn and Camille both gasp at his forcefulness.

Then Camille was there at my side saying, "We can easily call again Emily. Please, your mother's work is so very much more important than our silly bicycle outing."

"Yes," Evelyn had added as my friends moved hastily to the door. "We'll call again.

The sound of the door closing behind them had seemed to me like the sealing of a tomb.

"Ah, well that's better. Enough foolishness," Father said as he loosed my elbow.

"Mrs. Armour, please join me in the parlor and I will ring Mary for tea," I'd said.

"Good, go on about your business, Emily. I will see you at dinner. Good girl-very good girl," Father had said gruffly. He bowed to Mrs. Armour and then left us alone together in the foyer.

"I can tell you are young women of great character," Mrs. Armour said as I woodenly led her into Mother's parlor. "I am sure we will get on well together, just as your mother and I did."

I nodded and agreed and let the old women talk on and on about the importance of women of means being united in their dedication to improving the community through volunteer service.

In the weeks that have followed, I have come to realize how ironic it was that Mrs. Armour, who lectured unendingly about the importance of the unity of women, has become one of the main instruments in isolating me from other women my age. You see, Evelyn and Camille have not called again to ask that I bike with them. Evelyn has not called me at all since that morning. Camille, well Camille was different. It would take more to lose her as a friend, much, much more.