I wasn't planning on cutting her at all, much less killing her, I just wanted to scare the shit out of her. I would much rather her live with the tra...ma that she had caused me. She was almost done with the dishes. It was now or never. I slid the window open and slinked in. She was still dancing, so I knew that the music was still playing and that she wouldn't hear me. I slid in behind her in the dimmed kitchen. I threw my hand across her mouth. She tried to scream. Like lightning, I. Poor Mother succumbed to a strain of malaria, for which our supply of quinine could do nothing. Both Father and I threw ourselves into our work after that. Had it not been for the diversions offered by our work then we might have gone insane. I grew closer to Father and became something of a Tom Boy, dressing in jodhpurs, sun helmet and carrying a pistol. Not quite the formal attire expected of the daughter of the Earl of Tredegar. I did return to more fitting dress whenever we were in England. More

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