Saturday, 7th July, 1838

The question arises, "What to do with Widow Harvey?"

With my returning to England, my wife has decided that once she is settled into new accommodation, she will have in her employ a servant more in the category of "lady's companion" than "cook" and hence we must find a way to move Lucrezia Harvey on to pastures new.

My suggestion, that we put her in a bag, take her far enough away so that she will not be able to find her way back and dump her by the side of the road, has not been met with general acclaim, though it seems perfectly sound to me.

An advertisement appeared in this morning's "Gazette and Register"

A female servant capable of cooking, washing &c; liberal wages will be given to a competent person. Apply to Mr C. C. Dutton, Currie-street, Adelaide, next door to the Southern Cross Hotel.

 Mrs Hindmarsh sees this as manna from Heaven and I must admit that the stipulation that the successful applicant will be "capable of cooking" and not "an excellent cook" seems made for the Widow. And she is certainly capable of washing, at times even herself. However, I pointed out that the caveat "a competent person" might prove a stumbling block. If Charles Dutton took on the Widow, then the wages would need to be more than "liberal". "Compassionate and merciful" would be the ticket.

But I cannot help but think that there is an ethical dilemma here. Do we have the moral right to release Lucrezia Harvey, the Mad Poisoner and her Experimental Cuisine upon an unsuspecting and unprepared world? I suspect not and I suggested that it might be best if we kept her on after I leave as an act of Social Responsibility.

Mrs Hindmarsh's response to this left me aghast.

"You don't think I want her?" she said. "I only employed the women to keep your philandering ways under control! Once you've left I'll get someone who can cook properly, not endure more of her slop!"

I took the wisest course and made no comment.

Dutton, of course, is the type of man who would be pleased to impress his friends with the news that his table is being supplied by the "Vice-Regal Chef" and would, of a certainty, big note himself something chronic. It goes without saying that the one thing he could not do is invite those friends to share a meal at that table or the whole masquerade would be exposed.

All in all, I suspect that Lucrezia is headed off to Currie Street, but I shall stipulate that she cannot do so until after I leave. Once Dutton discovers the reality he may come looking for revenge and I have no intention of being here to see it.

The Widow herself was very teary when we broke the news and assured us that she would be forever grateful "for all the nicenesses and kindness" we have shown her and for "raising her to a place of standing and sophistication what she might not have otherwise attained" and Baby Harriet showed just how sophisticated by choosing that moment to break wind with such ferocity that the windows rattled and two of the dogs took the precaution of leaving the room before they could be blamed.

The baby's action brought forth a flood of giggling through the flood of tears from the Widow and she whooped out "OOO! Isn't she awful!"

"Yes," I said. "Yes she is." Which brought out more hilarity. 

"Oh Guvnah! Always one with a joke! I'll miss you all!" said the Widow and then burst out into even louder sobbing.

Mrs Hindmarsh embraced Widow Harvey in response to her effusions and assured her to "think nothing of it" and "it was no more than she deserved". For once I agreed with my wife. The Widow deserves nothing and no more.