Had a letter from Désirée. Dahut Morvran died. I guess I'm the only one left of us all. Liane's dead and nobody knows what happened to Colette, but since she disappeared from von Thorwald's court, it can't be good. I never thought I'd be the last one left.
I thought Liane would go to Salem, hate it, come back and marry Rosenthal. I thought Colette would...I don't know what I thought she would do. But not disappear.
Of course this isn't where I thought I'd be either. Wherever this nowhere actually is. Not that I get to stay here for long; Desi says they want to meet both of us now.
I should be more afraid than this but at least it's something. Isn't it?
Our father's quaking in his boots. I think he thought he could hold me back in reserve like a missing ace. This isn't whist, Papa.
Poor Dahut. I wonder what she did, or didn't do. Or who. She was the youngest of us all. If Liane were alive, she'd cry. Or laugh that horrible awful laughter. I can't seem to find the way to do either.
This...just isn't living.
depressed