Friday, January 10, 2014

Life is somewhat frenetic, charmingly haphazard and completely out of my control. 

I have to journey back to the Shire only a fortnight after my return to Bohemia, in order to make a personal application for a position as a lady-in-waiting. I wish there were more details for me to give, but it is all rather hush-hush and I cannot breathe more of a word than I already have. Just know that this decision has not been made lightly, and I did not realise quite how much I wanted something to do until the position opened. 

It is such an honour just to be considered, and I have to admit I squealed like a little girl when I found out. I'm going to enjoy having something to focus on, even if it is just for a week, as it will distract me from the emptiness of the Duke of Albany's presence. He will no doubt write to me shortly to wish me well, and I know he will make every effort to see me during my fleeting visit.

As well as all this information that has bombarded me, I had the (dis)pleasure of afternoon tea with the artist a few days ago... She was as curt as always and very professional, not wanting to discuss anything other than her commission. She is a closed book and if it weren't for her talent at turning me from mere mortal to the goddess Aphrodite, I'd have mentioned her impertinence. Be that as it may, we parted on fairly civil terms, and she did say she'd be more than pleased to paint me again should the inclination arise. 

I want to see the painting again but I cannot barge into the Duke's abode without him in the country. My mind is in a whirl. I had better arrange for my bags to be packed. I can't let my hopes soar any higher than they already have, for I know the disappointment if I am unsuccessful will cause me to crash and burn.

Que sera sera.


D. S.