eve 11th January

Dear Cecelia,
I have been very productive, all things considered. It would seem that the malaise of the last few days has left me now and my saunter along the promenade has put me in a fine mood.
I did take my writing implements with me in order to compose a letter to Charles. I’m afraid I skirted the issue of his absence at first. One can’t avoid the inevitable for too long though, eh? I put it to him in no uncertain terms that his telegram left me rather glum and that I shall inform him of my future plans once we reach our first destination, the Island of the Temple People. I will not allow his circumstances to thwart my plans further. I was perhaps not as forthright as others may have been, but I am confident that have made my disappointment clear to him. I have kept some things from him. I did not divulge E’s gift of the walnut and its secrets nor my part in the Gala Night performances. These will be for you and I only.
I’ve taken a most welcome swim in the cool blue waters of the swimming pool on board. I must say I looked rather spiffing in my one-piece bathing suit and cap. This season’s suits are a little shorter in the leg than in previous years and the style calls for a sewn in skirt which covers the thigh. I felt strangely exposed to have so much skin on display. My swimming stroke has improved tenfold despite my lack of practice. Mother and Father are always frightfully encouraging when it comes to such pursuits and provide Teddy and I with as many opportunities as possible.
Teddy and I enjoyed tea with Lottie, and two other passengers, Lori and Rilla. Lori is an apparently brilliant archaeologist who has recently resigned from her post as a University Professor. She is a seasoned adventurer and speaks of having shown much courage in the face of adversity on previous travels. I may have to ingratiate myself with her as she has much to teach. However, I fear she fares no better than I in matters of the heart. There is a swarthy fellow by the name of Albion with the ability to render her quite speechless!
Rilla is a rather sophisticated creature. She regaled us all with fanciful tales of hidden meadows and talking rabbits on board the ship. At first I thought her to be pulling my leg in jest, but she assures me that it is all quite true. She has promised to lead the way at my earliest convenience. Tomorrow then. I shall be pleased to engage in conversation with Descartes. Yes, it is true, Rilla’s rabbit proclaims himself to be the lesser known namesake of the famed French philosopher and mathematician.
Descartes’ secret meadow will certainly be a sight for sore eyes. Rilla has painted the most exquisite flowers in watercolour. I am quite green with envy as I haven’t a creative bone in my body. I think that her sketchbook and paints are never far from her side, in much the way that my leatherbound journal is rarely far from mine.
I tire now, sister. It is high time that I slept. One hopes to dream of lush meadows and new found friends.

Until tomorrow,

Elizabeth.