Darlings how did you all enjoy your Valentine's Day? I do hope you were spoilt rotten and inundated with gems, roses and jewels. It may sound shallow, but it is a good measure of a man to know what he'll spend on trifle things.

I had the most wonderful day, and though I know I owe an apology of sorts for my lackadaisical approach to writing of late, I'll let you in on a little secret... It's terribly difficult to write (or indeed think about writing) while being ravished by a blonde Esquire, or indeed with your arms tied behind your back to stop you from scratching what has seemingly become my territory.

Our farce of a relationship has succumbed rather easily to the eagerly beckoning call of the bedroom, and I cannot deny the utter pleasure that I have experienced beneath his gaze. Of course, this does only aid in the pretence to keep his Mother satisfied, but she is not the only one getting anything out of this romance. I've only managed to stay away from the blonde Esquire when called out to visit the Irish Lady of Corcaigh with Belle and her governess.

We recently crossed the Irish Sea and spent a joyful few evenings spinning yarns and dancing to merry jigs without a care in the world. Foreign castles were visited and even a menagerie, where we were delighted with the exotic animals! Belle and I adored seeing each other, no longer living in the North means that our time together is somewhat sporadic (much like my writing) but I do love that we have found the time for each other. Though of course I have to thank Belle's governess who had organised the entire trip without so much of a question! She too was wonderful fun; a more content lady I have yet to meet.

The weekend was perfect, though I have to admit I did miss the blonde Esquire... And from the rap on the door it seems he missed me too!

Adieu ma cherie, mon amour est ici!

D. S.

Darlings all the best wishes for Valentines day; the day that revolves around love, yet often leaves a bitter taste in many mouths.

I cannot admit to falling into the latter category, for I wear the largest grin on my face, and cannot conceal the happiness I feel. As I write I can see the blonde Esquire's muscular back, rippled in the evening glow, as he prepares a meal for the two of us to share. No doubt his Mother expects a proposal in the pipeline, however we are taking this faux relationship slowly - it has to be all the more believable when then inevitable end draws nigh.

However, true to his cause, the blonde Esquire has showered me with attention, love and jewellery! Not the order of importance, I promise! How can a girl who delights in diamonds ignore the one that now hangs around her neck without a smile on her face? Shallow? Undeniably. But the gift came from one who has become very dear to me. Even though our relationship is a sham, I can feel a firm friendship between the blonde Esquire and myself. There are no secrets, there are no boundaries; we do not need to bow to social convention as we have the freedom to breathe together.


Our relationship has grown out of a mutual truce and curiosity, and developed into the utmost respect while sating our more carnal desires. There is no intense passion, but rather an ease that ends in our laughing as we lie naked between the sheets.

Valentine's day always causes a few reminiscent thoughts to stray into the foray of my mind; turning back the clocks two years, I remember sitting in the library and writing anonymous love notes and leaving them in the library for anyone to find...  Oh my northern life! How it has disappeared into a vague memory in the grand scheme of life. Of course I miss it, but I know deep down it is the Court Jester, the musician, the Gameskeeper and Duchess of Tuthershire that I miss the most.

But today I shall quite happily make do with the blonde Esquire worshipping my every move. He does not claim to love me, we are undeniably keeping within our contract in order to ensnare his Mother in his attempt to court me. We are young, are allowed to have fun and play within the realms of the rules.



D. S.

Can you remember where you were a year ago precisely?

Do you find it easy to conjure up the memories, the emotions and sequences of life over the past three hundred and sixty-five days?

I can barely remember the past week, but a year ago today shall never be forgotten.

It was my darling young Captain's birthday, just as it is today. No longer a youth, but a man, and I fondly remember the agonising ceremony from last year. And of course how it led to the introduction of the English gentleman... Which I'd sooner forget.

How far I have come, distance included, and yet I look to go on further. Travels abound and I cannot wait to visit the Lady of Corcaigh with Belle in the coming weeks... I plan to remember that journey for many years to come. Too long have I sat, stagnating as decisions have yet to be made - though of course I should never expect decisions to be at the forefront of my mind.

Do not think I am running away from my life in the Shire, quite the contrary! I am more at ease, and more at home here than I think I have ever been before. Nevertheless, how can one deny the pleasures of a foreign country and the chance to spend time with wonderful companions?

The Shire of course is home to myself and the Duke's sister, to my ladies and gentlemen, and of course to the blonde Esquire. To say he has been most attentive would not be a worthy enough phrase. I lack the candour (for once) to say what it is he provides for me despite of the ruse we have between the two of us.

We have had many intimate meetings, and our show of love beguiles us both as the world begins to believe in it. I have even had the privilege of meeting his Mother... No mean feat. I could see the delight in her eyes as she weighed up my assets; I made an exhibition of wearing some of my finest jewels to entice her further into this matchmaking.


The blonde Esquire has few issues with hiding his true feelings and every moment we spend together, thankfully we are both honest and at ease. However during the over-too-soon private rendez vous, the blonde Esquire talks of all he could and would do if he had the means.

There are poor people in the world struggling for a loaf of bread while I dine on succulent strawberries and think nothing of drinking champagne for breakfast. I am fortunate that the blonde Esquire does not think any less of me, but even though I have seen the world and do not think I am completely naive, I am finding it difficult to assuage the guilt.

It is his honour, his drive and ambition that makes me yearn for something more. But what more is out there?




D. S.