November 24th, 1786

I write, in very ill humor, from my home, Portaberaud, in quiet Riom. The Chevalier has pursued me with letters, though they have now seemed to cease. That would make me piqued enough, but Maman was to have visited with her husband, and has chosen instead to inform me that she will not now come until close to Christmas, at which time she is bringing, not one but, BOTH of my brothers as well as my sister-in-law. Inhospitable as I might sound, it is rather unfair. I am fond of my family (Maman's husband aside), but I had hoped for a kind of time with my mother, just the two of us, and near to my birthday as well. She had promised that we would paint together. Now that is not to be. Add to that the expense and trouble of hosting fully double the number of people, as well as the fact that they have no clear wish to depart quickly and may stay through the New Year, and I am quite put out! Not a one seems to have had the consideration to think of their hostess in making these arrangements, and I find myself infuriatingly the last to know when it will most impact my planning and household. 

On the advice of a friend, and much to the horror of the gardeners, I have taken to assaulting the last of the summer's roses with shears, and generally tidying the garden as a way to give vent to my many frustrations. We have enjoyed great shifts in weather of late, one day sunny and quite unseasonably warm, the next frosted and overcast. I am glad I brought away with me all manner of clothing, though Marianne will grumble at the sheer amount of packing. It is, after all, her job. 

Menars, in his single letter on the subject, says that there are always rumors about single young men in the city, which would seem to dismiss my not-unfounded suspicions of the Chevalier's infidelity; yet also comments that he would not be at all surprised should these prove to be more than unconsummated affections. In short, I have been a fool, in the eyes of all of Paris. And at my age, too!

I am finishing a bonnet by my own hand for my little god-daughter and will send it to Elizabeth in time for Christmas. Tomorrow I turn my attention to preparations for the entire family to descend upon me, but tonight I think I will rest with a book, some sewing, and the companionship of my sweet dog. Tomorrow perhaps my mood will be less foul.

-Olympe