From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 13)

Hope asked me today if I ever made mistakes. What should I tell her?

The truth is, I make them all the time. Barely a day goes by when I don’t think I could have handled something differently. When I was first in the service, that mattered less, as I could generally fight my way out of events. Later, when Euphemia started joining me fairly frequently, that became less of an option. I had taught her to fight. It would have been quite remiss of me to take her on any mission without her having a decent ability to protect herself. I taught her my full arsenal of dirty tricks, bearing in mind she would likely be up against a bigger and stronger opponent. Although, I have to say, on the few occasions we were both forced to fight our foes, the shock and surprise of enemy agents, on discovering my beautiful companion was a no-holes barred fighter, was extremely amusing. So much so that once I got an unnecessary black eye as I was somewhat distracted laughing. Most unprofessional.

But, in general, I hate to see women fight. If a woman is fighting alongside me, I always feel I haven’t done my job properly. Euphemia would laugh at that and Hope would be most indignant, but it’s the way I feel, and I can’t help that.

Perhaps that is another mistake of mine. In this war, women are proving they are the equal, and even the better, of men. I’ve always held that to be true, but at the same time I’ve always felt duty bound to protect the women in my circle.

As I grow older, and have my temper under better control, I hope I make less mistakes. I can always appear calm - or nearly always, at least - I suspect only Euphemia, and possibly my mother, knew how much I struggle with my inner demons. The foolishness of mankind in general fuels my ire to greater heights every day. The way certain ‘gentlemen’ behave makes me want to line them all up and punch them in the face. But I don’t. I can think of only one time when I let my temper get the better of me. Euphemia pulled me off the man, but his head was already a bloody mess from my fists. He died in hospital. My only regret is that Euphemia witnessed it, but then he was attempting to assault her in the vilest of ways.

I think I shall tell Hope that we all make mistakes, but that at my current rank, making mistakes has dire consequences and I must now apply a caution to my actions that I have learned the hard way, through making mistakes in the past. I shall tell her that in her work the making of mistakes is a necessary and unavoidable part of learning. Though I will also say this is no excuse for slack work (I know she never does less than her best, but I am aware that my favouritism towards her, much as I try to hide it, is becoming a matter of some talk within the department. I should ensure that her and I are overheard and that I sound quite stern.)