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did not see the Cornings very often - they had moved into a small estate down the road in 1811 and we never had much cause to socialize - the Cornings were homebodies and I did all my socializing at the neighborhood pub and the Literary Society."
The reader, I hope, will have patience with me for stopping the narrative here - I said I would reprint the letter in its entirety and so I shall. However, I wanted to give a little background about Mrs. Corning at this point. She was deceased a year, perished under odd circumstances.
The Cornings were Welsh and at this late date no heirs had been found to claim their property, and so while the search continued the Episcopal Church was holding the property in trust. And thus it happened that I had legal access to the Corning house.
The home itself had nothing of the supernatural about it - it was of modest size, and comfortably furnished. The main item of interest was found in the master bedroom. Mrs. Corning had kept a diary. Normally I would not intrude upon a lady's diary, but I made an exception under the circumstances.
Based on the diary Mrs. Corning seems to have been an imaginative and rather emotional individual. I opened the book at random and the first passage I read was this:
January 22, 1815
Had a lovely dinner with Oliver today, and he was more charming than ever, if that is possible. I was finally able to obtain a good quality wine from France (the local "wine" is appalling) and served it with roast beef. The influence on Oliver's spirits was something to behold - he was practically dancing like a trained pony, and when one of the cats made an appearance he regaled me with his impression of Chesterton's thoughts, done in, he claimed "the cat's own voice." The wine had its influence on myself as well, but I'm sure I would have laughed as hard even had I been sober as a curate.
As yet, alas, he has not indicated as of yet that he considers me anything but a partner in our current endeavor. I might as well wear pants as petticoats for all it seems to matter to him.
I thought I would take the diary with me and peruse it at my leisure. I was interested in another perspective on Mr. Acton's claims and this might well provide it.
As I descended the porch steps, I came upon a gentleman on the road gazing at the house. He looked quite surprised to see me on the premises but said nothing - and almost immediately I realized this must be Oliver Acton himself.
(To be continued...)
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