1 April 1642

The physician gave me more laudanum today. It hurts a bit less. I can write if I take breaks every few sentences. I haven't been to court. Kurloz told everyone I'm ill. I feel ill. I don't feel right. It's hard to explain, but my head feels wrong.

I can't seem to stop crying. My darling holds me when I cry. He's the one who did this to me and he is holding me as I cry.

4 April 1642

I don't know what to do. I feel like someone's taken a whisk to my thoughts and beaten them to cream. I know something is wrong. Something has to be wrong. Can someone who loves me hurt me this way? He holds me, comforts me when I'm hurting. But he's the one who hurt me.

I didn't want him to stop talking. I didn't ask for that. I don't want it. All I wanted was for him to say he was sorry, and now he never will.

7 April 1642

I feel a bit better every day. My thoughts are starting to untangle. I almost wish they wouldn't. When I take the laudanum, as my husband insists, I feel as if nothing is wrong and the world is wonderful. But any day I don't, the doubt returns. My husband deafened me. He did it because I snapped at him. He's snapped at me and I haven't shoved him into any stone walls! He treated me like a child.

And still I love him. He was there for me when my mother passed away. He was always so sweet and kind and caring when we first knew each other. Can't that man come back? Perhaps the man I love is buried under this one who hurts me.

Or perhaps the one who hurts me was buried under the kind one.

11 April 1642

Magdelena came to see me today. I haven't seen my ladies in weeks. It took a lot of effort to talk to her and pretend my head wasn't splitting. I knew I couldn't let her know anything was wrong. People gossip in the castle, and I know if I breathed a word of this it would get back to my husband and things would be worse.

"Is he mistreating you?" Porrim asked me. What would I say if another woman came to me and told me this story? If it were my sister? If anyone did this to my sister, I would do as Beatrice for Hero-I would eat his heart in the market. Is he mistreating me? I don't know.

13 April 1642

Grace came to see me today, but just to drop off a letter and wish me good health. I can read a bit more now, and it was a short letter. It was from Kitty. She said she loves me and she wants me to be happy, and that I can always come home to her.

I burst into tears when I read it. Since when has my little sister started to worry about me? I'm older! I should be worrying! Something has gone wrong. My sister loves me as much as I love her, and she's worrying about me. I tear up whenever I think of it. She loves me. My friends care about me. Something is wrong.

15 April 1642

My love came to hold me today when my head was hurting. I don't think he's spoken since he said he wouldn't, but I wouldn't know. I read Magdelena's lips when she came to see me. How can I manage this way? I can't pretend forever that I can hear. Someday I will make a mistake. How can I explain it? I can't say my husband did this to me. No one would believe me. I'd look like a rumormonger, or worse, like I was trying to make him look bad. There is not a single person in this castle who could help me. Only his father has power over him, and somehow I doubt the duke would care.

No one inside this castle can help me, but they aren't the only people I have. I need to write my sister and my friends.

18 April 1642

This is the day my mother found me when I was eleven years old. I don't remember all of it, but I remember that she was gentle when she picked me up and washed the mud off me and treated my fever. I was so sick and so small, and she cared for me. She gave me food. She took in my sister, too, so Kitty wouldn't go hungry.

I learned about love from her and from my sister. I love my husband-I know I do. I think he still loves me. But something is terribly wrong. He still hasn't apologized. What can I even do about it? He wouldn't talk to me even before this.

21 April 1642

I feel a little better, but my head still aches. I tried to go to court today, but it was not even an hour before my head hurt too badly to stay. I can barely hear the murmuring of talking sometimes in my left ear, and even that is too much. It was too bright and everyone was moving and I felt dizzy.

My husband walked me back to my room and helped me into bed, but then he turned around and left. He didn't kiss me goodbye or even smile as he left. Is he angry with me? How would I know, when he won't tell me? Am I going to have to write my own husband a letter when he sleeps just a room away?

I should try that. I know we can't talk to each other, but I can write to him and he can write back. I just want things to be alright between us. He's my husband. I want to try. I just don't know how much I can try before I have to let it go. When I treat people, there are times when I know there is nothing more I can do, and that the person will die. When will I know that there is nothing more I can do here?

23 April 1642

My husband wrote me back a letter, telling me that he felt I was putting off returning to court, and I couldn't lay around and feel sorry for myself forever.

I have not been angry in a very long time. I've tried my best to be forgiving and patient, and I don't get angry very much. But that letter made me so angry I could hardly see. He threw me against a wall! He did this to me! How can he demand recovery from me when he's the one who hurt me? My head still hurts every single day.

And what could I say that wouldn't make it worse? There's no way I could show him I'm upset with him that wouldn't make everything worse. He'd just hurt me again. No matter how careful I'd be, I have no doubt he'd hit me.

When did that happen? When did I learn to be afraid of the man I love? This is wrong.

25 April 1642

"Is he mistreating you?" Porrim asked me, and I think I know the answer now. I think the answer might be yes. My thoughts are clearing up more every day, and every day I keep thinking-if someone did this to my sister? If someone did this to a friend? Even if I heard of someone doing this to any woman in the village, someone I hardly know? I would be furious. I would want to find that man and ensure he never hurt that woman again.

But now…what do I do about it? What can I do?

It's scary to think, but…can I stay? Is there anything I can do but leave? I promised him all my love for all my life, but he promised me the same. This can't be all there is for me. Can I live the rest of my life this way, afraid of my own husband, afraid of the man I love? Just the thought of it makes me feel ill. I can't spend my life like this.

But what else can I do? I can't just pack up and leave. I'm a common woman married to a nobleman. If I did leave him, he would still own everything I've ever had-my home, the land it's on, everything in it. I don't think it's impossible, but…I can't even begin to fathom what my next steps will be.

I need help. I just don't know what to do. I need someone to help me.

28 April 1642

I wrote Porrim and Horuss and Kitty today. I don't think I've done anything half so hard, and I've delivered babies. I need to make some kind of plan. I can't just walk out on him. I need to read up on marriage law. I can still hardly read without a headache but if I keep the books in my room, he'll never know about them and I can read slowly. I have to fight through the headache if I want to do anything.

The headache reminds me that he did this to me. I want so badly to forgive him, and then my head throbs again and I remember what he's done. I love him. The man I love did this to me. He deafened me because he felt I took a rude tone with him. I have to keep reminding myself that if someone did this to my sister, I would tear him limb from limb. I want to believe he's good, and maybe he is, but this can't be the rest of my life.

30 April 1642

I've been going to court or church every day. It is almost unbearably painful but I do it anyways. I can't let on that anything is different, or that my world has changed. I can't hear anything anyways, so I usually just sit politely and try to plan.

It occurred to me, though, that this is almost exactly what I did before in court. I was never there to offer my opinion or do any real work. The only difference now is that I can't hear what they're saying. Someday I'll go back to giving charity with my mother-in-law and embroidering with my ladies, and I can do those find without my ears, or my voice, for that matter.

When I do talk, Kurloz writes I'm too loud, and it's not ladylike. He used to like the ways I wasn't very ladylike. He used to tell me he admired me for being outspoken and independent. I don't understand what's changed.

2 May 1642

Kitty wrote me back. She told me that she would of course let me back in to our home, and she was so glad to hear from me. She told me that if I needed anything, she'd help me. She said she'd come get me if I needed her to. I wish I could just ask her to break in and get me out, but I can't do that. I have to be careful and strategic.

I've been reading a book on marital law. I need our marriage to be annulled. Even if it weren't nearly impossible to get a divorce, they call it, I need my property back. If our marriage is annulled, then it's like it never happened and I'll still have my home. So I'm going to go back and look for a book on annulments and find out when one can happen.

It feels wrong. An annulment is supposed to be for when there is a mistake. As far as I know, we have a valid marriage. I don't like to lie. I feel as if I'm lying to God, claiming something is wrong when it's not. Or, something besides the true problem is wrong. Something has gone wrong in my marriage, and somehow I doubt that the thing that is wrong would allow me to leave safely. No one writing these laws worries about women very much.

5 May 1642

I thought I was better from hitting my head, but today I had the most horrific headache. The doctor came and had me take some laudanum, and it hurts much less. My love asked me again about if I was pregnant (since he can't speak now, he simply gestures at my stomach) and I didn't feel as annoyed as I usually do. I do like the laudanum, I think. It makes things feel a little easier and softer. I tried to read my book, but it just didn't seem so important. Why am I worrying so much about something so small? My love still holds me when my head hurts and calls the physician for me. He tells me such sweet things about how much he loves me and how everything is going to be just fine. How can I not believe him when he speaks so kindly?

I don't feel like doing much, usually, when I take the laudanum. But today I passed by Gamzee and he was in one of his moods, and I remembered why I don't give the medicine myself very often. It is too easy to come to rely on it and fall ill without it.

8 May 1642

It's hard to work my way through these dense legal books when I still get headaches from reading too much. And it's so hard to motivate myself to read when part of me just wants to stay. So much of me wants to stay, wants to believe that I can make this better. If only I were to say the right thing, I could fix everything. I could make our marriage lovely and happy again.

I have to remind myself, over and over again, that he hurt me because I said the wrong thing. That if someone did this to my sister I would be out for blood. If I don't remind myself every day, I fall back to believing that everything could be alright again.

I don't know if I want to keep sleeping with him, but if I stop-if I try to stop-he'll know something is wrong. I don't know if I want to have a baby with him. How can I carry and raise a child when that child's father is someone who's hurt me? I'm so frightened. If I were to become pregnant now, I don't know what I'd do. I don't even know what to do now.

12 May 1642

I think I know how to do it. If I can't have a baby, never, he'll find some excuse to separate us. I read that the reasons for annulment are few, but there are some. We were both in our twenties, so I can't use my age. I can't say I'm mad, because no one would believe that. We're not related at all. And I can't say that he coerced me, because he didn't and no one could back me up. But if I brought some false pretenses to the marriage myself, then it would still be invalid. If I had deceived him before we were married, then he would have grounds to leave me. I think what I can do is pretend I knew I was infertile. Then our marriage would be invalid. But to do that, I have to keep not having a child.

I think I might know how. I know how to stop being pregnant-my mother taught me. If I do it before I'm too far along, Kurloz would never know. I've wanted children since I was little and now my life depends on not having them. What a cruel irony.

15 May 1642

I wrote Horuss today. I have to ask him the biggest favor I've ever asked anybody. I need him to put the idea of me being infertile in my husband's head. He's a wealthy man-he can talk to Kurloz and somehow get him to wonder if I can't have children at all.

I'm lying. I'm manipulating him and I'm lying and I think even if I can get out and go home, I will be crushed under the weight of the guilt. Somethings I just want to scream from it all. I feel I'm going to fall to pieces. I try to pray but I feel like I'm too much of a sinner to pray. What atonement can there be for someone breaking their wedding vows, lying to their spouse, asking others to lie for them? How can I be any worse, any less deserving?

I hope my sister still takes me back. I don't know where else I'd go.

18 May 1642

I wrote Porrim today, too, to ask her help. I asked her to keep reminding me that something is wrong. It's so hard to remember. I trust Porrim. I know she doesn't trust any men, but equally I know that she wants the best for every woman. I don't know if I can trust myself to remember, but I know I can trust my friends and my sister to tell me the truth.

I know I'm asking a lot of them. I wish I didn't have to. I'll owe Porrim and Horuss for the rest of my life. When I work up the courage to write to my other friends, too, I'll owe them. I don't know why they're helping me. I would help someone who was in this situation, but that's because it's my job. My friends have no such obligation. I don't know why they help me when I don't deserve it.

I have my plan in place. I have to act as if nothing wrong, and secretly stop any pregnancy I might begin. We've been married almost two years. If I don't have a baby soon, I'm certain my husband will want to separate us. Horuss will suggest to him I might be infertile and then we can separate. I just hope it works.

20 May 1642

I felt ill when I woke up today and I have never been so afraid in my life. I have wanted children since I was a child myself, and I think I have a little life taking root in me right now. I can't keep this little one. I have my reasons (and I would never ask another woman for hers), but I still wish I could keep my baby. And if my husband finds out…he'll be furious.

I do not think this is a painless way out of my marriage. I have no doubt that it will hurt very badly before I can tear myself free. The fact that I know he will hurt me should tell me that I need to leave in and of itself. And it's not just that. I want children. Leaving my marriage this way, I might never have them. I might have the good fortune to adopt a child, but that's a bit of luck I can't count on. It is going to hurt me to lose pregnancies I otherwise would want-physically, of course, it will hurt, but in my soul, too.

I've been going back to seeing my ladies. I've told them I have a lingering illness, that I may be weak for the rest of my life, so they don't notice anything is wrong. It's what my husband has told his family and the court. I can still embroider little roses and write polite letters, so what does it matter if I can't hear? What does anyone care if they can't talk to me? I can say my pleases and thank yous, so what do they care if I don't know what I'm thanking them for?

How will I talk to my sister?

23 May 1642

I heard back today from Horuss. He said simply that he understood and would be willing to do this for me. He didn't say much, but he reminded me that his father promised my mother that he would take care of Kitty and me.

I don't know how to feel about that. I'm not a child, and I don't need anyone to take care of me like I am one. I don't need someone to pity me and coddle me. But I need help. I can't do this on my own. If I want to leave and have a life where I don't need to be afraid, I need to rely on my friends and my sister. I've been supporting myself since I was seventeen, and somehow now that I'm twenty-two I need someone else. I'm almost glad my mama isn't around to see me like this. She'd be so ashamed to have a daughter like me.

26 May 1642

Porrim wrote me back today. It's been a while since I wrote her. I wonder if the letter took longer, or if she didn't know what to say. I think I'll keep this letter in my journal. It's the safest place I have. I don't think my husband knows I keep a journal. If he does remember, he would never find it. I've been keeping it in my bedroom, tucked behind some other books. And as of late, I've been writing mostly in French. He confessed to me that his French is not as good as if should be.

Anyways, here's what she told me.

Dear Meulin,

He's not trustworthy or safe. He has hurt you and he will hurt you again. It's hard to believe about someone you love, but you can't stay if he's treating you so badly. You deserve better. Men hold all the power in this world. You're doing what you have to do to protect yourself and your loved ones. Please believe me that you're welcome back in the village and your home. I'll remind you of this as many times as you need me to. Anything else you need, just ask.

Please come home soon. Your sister misses you. We all miss you.

Love,

Porrim

29 May 1642

My husband asked me again today if I was pregnant. I think this is the first time I lied to him. I'm fairly sure I am but I told him I'm not. I've been sick in the morning and my head hurts and I just feel vaguely…different. It feels the way it has all the other times I've started a pregnancy. I should know how that feels by now. And my husband asked me if I was pregnant, and I lied. I assume he believed me.

I prayed tonight for forgiveness. I've never prayed so hard for anything, except maybe when I was small and I prayed for Kitty to be safe. I prayed to God to forgive me for lying to my husband and all the other terrible things I'm going to do. I'm going to keep lying to him. I'm going to hurt him. I can't bear it, and yet I have to. I don't have another choice.

1 June 1642

Our anniversary is coming up. We'll have been married for two years. Almost two years ago I promised him that I would always love him and be there for him. And I think I will always love him. I've spent all this time loving him. I don't think I can stop. Part of me wants to. Part of me wishes I could just hate him. I think if I did, this would be a lot easier. I wouldn't feel so terrible about lying to him and hurting him if only I could hate him.

But I don't hate him. He's hurt me, but he's only human. I can't expect him to be perfect, anymore than he expects me to be perfect. I know I'm not safe here and I can't raise my children here. I know this, in my mind. But my heart still wants to believe that he is the man I love, the man I married, or that I could somehow make everything better again. I miss the man I married almost two years ago.

My headaches are getting better, but they're not gone. Now, though, I can't rest in my bed when I have them. My husband insists I go to court and chapel even if I'm not well. He writes me that I need to push myself if I want to heal, that if I lie in bed all day I'll never recover. A few months ago, I think I would have believed that without question. Pat of me does believe him. I know that sometimes activity is good for healing-when people hurt their backs or legs, if they stay still too long it'll get worse. These headaches, though…they're not like that. They get so bad sometimes that I think I'm going to break down crying, right there in court.

It hurts. I need to go lie down.

5 June 1642

Today is our second wedding anniversary. I got him a present. I love him, and so I got him a pair of cufflinks in purple, his favorite color. He was so shy and sweet when I gave them to him. He opened the box and looked at the present and looked up at me with wide, happy eyes. He scrambled for a pen and wrote, "For me?"

"Of course," I said.

"They're gorgeous," he wrote. "Thank you." He fidgeted a moment, then held out a box of his own. I took it and undid the ribbon and it was a ring. It looked a lot like the ring he gave me when we were first engaged, with a purple gem in the center and diamonds on either side.

"Thank you," I said. How can someone who hurts me give me such a lovely gift?

"I'm glad you like it," he wrote bashfully. "I arranged a special dinner for just us."

"That sounds lovely," I said, and it did. It still does. It's not much, but a nice dinner with my love would be perfect. A dinner from when I still lived in my home and made him the best stews I knew, when he said it was perfect because I'd made it.

It was a quiet dinner. We're getting better at communicating with gestures, but it's hard. I can talk all I like and he can hear me, but when it comes to him talking to me, there's nothing. I could tell he was trying. He's been trying. He writes things and uses his hands and facial expressions to talk to me, but it's hard. It's so sweet and kind it makes my heart ache. He's trying so hard to talk to me, to communicate with me. He wants to talk to me, even though I can't hear anymore. He has so much kindness in him. Can I blame him if, once in a while, he lets out some anger?

8 June 1642

I got a letter today from my sister. She just wanted to know how I was. I can read between the lines-she's worried about me. She doesn't know if I'll ever come back, and she's worried I'll forget I can turn to her for help.

I remember I told her, a long time ago, that she had to know when she needed to rest, when she needed someone's help. It's been a long time since I've asked for someone's help-since I needed anyone's help. I've made my share of faux pas in the castle, but I haven't truly needed anyone in…years, I think. I've been on my own since I was seventeen, and I never needed to rely on anyone else to keep Kitty and me alive. I didn't need Mr. Zahhak to take care of me or anyone else to take pity on me. And now I'm twenty-two and I need my friends to pull me out of a hole I've dug for myself. When did I become so pathetic? How is it that after five years taking care of myself, now I need someone else to look after me?

I feel so stupid. I'm like a child who fell in the river even though my mother told me not to. When I was five years old Miss Leon told me not to touch a candle she'd just blown out because it was still hot. I put my finger in the hot wax anyways, because I was curious what it felt like, and of course I got a burn. There must've been some way I could've seen this coming, something as obvious as Miss Leon telling me not to touch hot wax, that I ignored. I thought I was smart. I guess I'm just not.

12 June 1642

I'm certain I'm pregnant. The nausea is awful, but my breasts ache, too, and I'm tired. And of course, I haven't had my bleeding. I have a little life growing inside me. In another life, I would want to nurture it as best as I can, bring my little one into the world to have a happy life. I can't do that. I can't let this little one get much bigger. I've tried to hard to hold onto a baby and now I can't let myself.

I should start gathering my supplies now. I'll need time to gather my nerve. I would never ask someone else to do this alone. I'm always there, of course, and I always tell women I treat that they can bring anyone who they trust, who will help them. I'm going to be alone when I do it, and I'm frightened. I don't think it's more dangerous than giving birth-I'd place them about equal, considering how easy it is for things to go wrong during birth-but I'd never want to do either alone.

And I want this baby. I want to have a baby, I always have. It hurts that I can't have this child I've longed for, even if I'd probably lose them anyways because my body doesn't know how to do its job. I've mourned all my miscarriages, and I'll mourn the end of this pregnancy, too.

15 June 1642

I didn't expect pretending to be this difficult. Because he believes I'm not pregnant, he insists we sleep together most every night. Usually it's nice. He's still my husband and I think he still loves me somehow, and lately he's been as sweet as always. But…oh, I don't know how to say this. I wasn't sure I'd write it but I feel I might explode having no one to talk to. He likes to touch my breasts and right now they hurt, and I can't tell him that. If I told him, he might ask why, and he might figure out I'm pregnant and not telling him. So I bite my tongue when he touches them and try not to give away that it hurts.

I think he used to care more about this being fun for us, something we could enjoy together. He's still kind, but every day he seems more stretched thin. I'm not enjoying myself as much as I used to either, though, because what I liked was being close with him. Now that I'm lying and keeping secrets, it's impossible to feel as close to him as I did.

Lying is hard. I've never been a very good liar. Kitty and I played pretend when we were small, but we didn't lie. I'm not a good liar and it's hard.

19 June 1642

I wrote my sister back today. I've been putting it off because I don't know what to say. I can't very well tell her I'm doing fine, because I'm not. I told her my plan, so she knows that I am going to come back, and I told her not to worry. What a stupid thing to say. Of course she'll worry. My sister isn't stupid (I suppose she inherited all our mother's brains), and she must know that I'm not myself. She said as much-she said I don't sound like myself in my letters. I'm not myself. I'm not sure I ever will be again.

I hope she writes back soon. She's my sister and I left her alone when she was only sixteen, and I still worry about her. I want to believe we can still be sisters after what I've done.

22 June 1642

I got my hands on some of the herbs I'll need today. I can't just ask for them, because I can't risk anyone else figuring out what I'm going to do. Most people don't know the ways to end a pregnancy, but I can't take the risk. These nobles are all having affairs with each other. For all I know, everyone else is ending pregnancies left and right. I somehow doubt they're doing it for the same reasons I am, though.

Grace has been so kind and helpful lately. She wrote down that she noticed I was ill, even if I was trying not to act it, and asked if I needed anything.

"No, thank you. I'm quite alright."

"I can tell you're unwell," she wrote, making a gentle face at me. "You're wan and a little thin. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but if you ever need anything, I'm here to help. I am your lady-in-waiting."

I bit my lip. I didn't think I was that obvious. "I have been feeling under the weather lately. I don't know why. I'm hoping I can push through it. My husband feels I'll recover more quickly if I go about business as usual."

She nodded. "In that case, let's get on with our correspondence. Perhaps we can study some Russian as well."

"Thank you," I said. I can't hear if I'm too loud, and she's too polite to tell me. I hope I did alright. I want her to know I meant it.

26 June 1642

I'm going to have to do it soon. If I let this go on much longer, I won't be able to hide it anymore. I wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone who knew anything about how a body carries a child, or about the bleeding.

The guilt feels like it's going to eat me alive. I've been lying to the man I love and now I'm going to end a pregnancy he's been desperate for for more than two years. I feel like I'm denying him the one thing he needs the most.

And as if my thoughts weren't tangled and confused enough, I got another letter today from Porrim reminding me of why I'm doing this, that he's hurt me and it's not safe for me to stay. I imagined again the rest of my life like this, scared of my own husband. I can't live waiting every moment for my husband to snap and hurt me again. And none of that changes the fact that I love him and I'm hurting him. I'm manipulating him, keeping secrets and lying, and I love him still.

30 June 1642

I did it today. Yesterday at church I prayed for it to go alright, and today I had one of my headaches. Once my husband was in his room and I was in mine, I mixed up the herbs, tightened my corset as tight as I could manage it (until I could hardly breathe), and made my way to my bathroom. There is always a lot of blood, and I couldn't risk anyone seeing it. I sat in my bathtub almost naked and took the herbs all at once, and waited. I brought a book to read while I waited for the herbs to work, but I couldn't focus enough to read, and my head hurt anyways.

It took a couple of hours, like I expected. I've never felt this myself, but I've seen it on other people, so I knew how it would be bad, but I didn't realize how bad. It hurt. My whole body felt like it was burning, and then I felt the cramping. Normally I have cramps when I get my bleeding, but this was worse. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, so no one would come in and see what I was doing. I wanted so badly for my mama to be with me. I never imagined I'd have my babies without her there to help me, and I never imagined I'd lose them without her either. I know how important it is to be with the women I treat when they're going through these things, and I was alone.

I don't know how long it took, but I was so tired and I still had to clean up. I used an old sheet to clean up the blood and then threw it in the fire to burn. I used some of the supplies for my bleeding to keep from getting blood all over my sheet and I laid down and I couldn't sleep. I got back up to write because I'm not tired. Everything hurts and I can't sleep. I thought everything would be so wonderful when I was married, and we'd have the most beautiful babies, and I'd be happy. How did everything go so wrong?