Thursday, April 28, 2011

March 20th, 1781

Two months until the wedding and I am consumed by concerns about the guest list. I could not imagine getting through the event itself without T- to reassure me, but when I insisted that he should be invited Maman said that it was out of the question. This seemingly small request became an argument, and then finally a fit of shouting, with her insisting that I would bring shame to such an important occasion and my guests would think ill of me, and I denying that anyone but her would think such a thing, and that it was all I asked of a day which should have been mine to begin with.

In the end she departed the room, slamming the door behind her and I went shopping to cheer my spirits. Arriving home some hours later I was reminded that I was due to host a small supper party this evening, and rushed to prepare. A day that begins ill rarely ends well, and I proceeded to lose at cards, fail to be a charming hostess, and was struck dumb by a simple question about last year's grape harvest in Auvergne.

F- noticed my lack of enthusiasm and I told him about the argument thinking that he would side with Maman, but to my great surprise he offered to speak with her for me. I saw them in conversation later, but have not spoken to her as she retired to bed before all of he guests had departed. I hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

Olympe, Comtesse

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