I wish I could say I've had either a productive or scandalous weekend, but it seems I'm becoming somewhat responsible in my old age! Relaxed evenings revelling in the springtime sunsets and musing over my writings have become somewhat the norm, and though I do miss my more rebellious stage, there is something I truly enjoy in the peace.

Tomorrow I turn the grand old age of twenty-four, and though it is no milestone, I cannot help remembering some of the years past. The blonde esquire and I were entranced with each other's company though we both were akin to the farce of our relationship, and further back I was loved on the Antipodean shores by a young Captain. Though I'm sure he is no longer so young.

I'm sure April wilted under the stare of a stern summer sun as the days lengthen and my homecoming is all the nearer. I cannot wait to see the Duke again, we have plans to rendez vous in two weeks after my trip across the Polish border, and my heart quickens at the thought. Six weeks is all I have left until the cloisters of the Convent at Brighthelmstone make themselves my home for the Summer.

Out of the blue I did receive a wonderful letter from the brunette who has returned to the Antipodean shores and I would not be surprised if I heard the chiming of wedding bells as she seems so caught up in her romance. I'd be so happy for her, should the occasion arise, but I do hope I am able to find the time to attend a wedding twelve thousand miles away. But then, I shouldn't fret, as the proposition has yet to be made.

Jeeves has kept me company all through these lonely nights and it is interesting to talk to him of things all supernatural. We are a suspicious pair, and it doesn't take much for us to scare each other in the middle of the night with stories of ghouls and ghosts. I have taken to writing a fair few stories of my own, though it's more difficult than I first anticipated.

I shall leave for now. The sun is shining and there are barely visible whisps of clouds in the sky, so I want to make the most of the fine weather. When next I write I shall be a whole year older, if none the wiser. 



D. S.

As December draws nearer I cannot help but recall the past year and what a change it has meant for me. A year ago I was living with the Duke of the Shire's sister and we were partying the nights away as if there were no tomorrow. It was oh so frivolous compared to the life I am leading now, however I have those memories that I will always look back on fondly. There was never a dull moment with the Duke's sister.

Now I am worlds apart in Bohemia, not completely alone, but certainly not the centre of attention in a tizzy of soirées as before. I had both the White Knight and the blonde Esquire at my beck and call, whereas now I am completely independent, only indulging my sexual appetite with the Duke of Albany. I spent long enough in the cloisters of the Convent over the summer that I think it is only fair to make the most of the winter months, wrapped up in furs and listening to the fires roar and crackle while we... Well, I'll leave that much to your imagination. 

I have finally asked the Duke if he would join me in the Shire over the Christmas tidings and he has accepted my invitation. I have had to write to my mother and let her know there shall be company for the festivities, but because it is a man of nobility my mother will have already started planning the wedding in her head. Poor Albany does not know what he has got himself into. 

It is sometimes unnerving to think that I met the Duke so many months ago without realising it was him. Those piercing blue eyes have a way of hypnotising me and often I think I'm sparring with the lowly messenger rather than the grandchild of Bohemia (his words, not mine).

Life is currently everything I could ask for; I have the time to write and have accomplished so much in the last thirty days, as well as having the Duke to converse with while we concentrate on fulfilling dreams I didn't even know I had. The Shire calls as Christmas should be spent with friends and family, but Bohemia is the perfect surrogate home. 



D. S.

I know I ranted previously about the incapabilities of men ~ the greatest flaw of that gender being their inability to comprehend that they may not be wanted. I claimed there was nothing in particular that spiralled me down to the level of loathing I had for the opposite sex, however that isn't strictly true.

There isn't one specific turn of events, just a compilation of experiences that I hope never again to encounter. Indeed, though I have no complaints whatsoever about how I live my life, and I am eternally grateful for all the generosities my parents have bestowed and what my social status accomplishes, it is rather like being considered a prize mare, waiting around for the highest bidder.

Of course I won't say I was running away from my responsibilities as a daughter, but Mother was none to please when I broke off my faux betrothal to the blonde Esquire, and I know she was less than indifferent to the Prussian Knight. I don't know what my parents expect of me. Am I supposed to somehow marry a Prince? And what of my feelings? Hark should they get taken into account.

But all of this was grumbled to myself in a carriage on a short journey between towns before an even greater liberty was taken, by none other than a chauvinistic male, a lowly messenger. 

The roads in Bohemia are as safe as any other roads on the Continent (I shall not compare them to the windy paths of the Shire that I would know blindfolded) but as it so happened, on a journey I was partaking, we were stopped. I was mid thought, mid curse, mid vent for I have been suffering from anxiety and frustration ever since I left the Convent and I barely noticed the carriage stall. 

Eventually I called out to my driver, Jeeves, to explain the meaning of the wait but was answered with an ambiguous yelp. It did not occur to me that outside may be dangerous, so I soon clambered out the carriage, bustling skirts in tow, to be faced with Jeeves waving his sword in the face of another man who was brandishing his own weapon most scurrilously. I was frozen in time for I could not believe what was before my eyes, and it was the two men who noticed me first (I blame the million petticoats that rustle as I move).

The stranger stopped as he saw me, lending an opportune moment to Jeeves who sliced through the man's navy lapels. Jeeves look positively horrified at the thought of making contact with an actual body that he dropped his sword. Most terrible was what occurred next; I laughed. It was awfully rude of me, but I couldn't help myself. Thankfully the atmosphere seemed to dissipate, but I was not foolish enough to trust a man with no name who yields at the sight of a lady.

As said stranger stepped closer, he stooped to pick up the sword from the dry ground and handed it, hilt first, back to Jeeves. I was perplexed, but had thankfully taken control of my laughter. Also I knew I had a small pistol mercifully sewn into the pockets of my underskirt. I was not afraid.

Two steps closer the stranger came, before he uttered a coherent sound. He addressed me by name and handed me a sealed letter. I had my fingertips resting on the trigger of the pistol in my pocket the entire time, but I think we both knew I would never pull it. He left with a bow, whistling to gorgeous black steed, and made no apology for his actions.

I am still furious with this individual for incapacitating Jeeves and for his rudeness. Nor have I yet opened the letter... All I can see is that it is addressed to "The most splendid, illustrious, serene and eminent lady of pleasure"... If that is not thinly veiled misogyny (or indeed an honest compliment) then I must question all I have ever learnt. 

I hold the letter in my hand. It has been two days. 

Shall I open it?



D. S.

What can I say when once again I have forsaken the Shire in the hope of learning more about another culture hundreds of miles away? I do not claim to comprehend all there is to know about my own Shire, my home town, nor even all the rooms of the South Wing ~ but I have that as my foundation, it is my rock and I have all the world to see before I surround myself with familiar walls and listen to the memories of amicable yet unchanging winds.

The Continent has beckoned and I have followed without a second glance of what could have been and what I have left behind. Time waits for no man, and nor do I. The world is my companion, the stars my guiding light, the adventure of the unknown that I crave has overtaken any physical desires. Maybe the Convent did spark an epiphany, it certainly changed my perspective on a few things, but travelling and writing are all that I want at this moment in time.

If one were to ask where I have travelled, my response may cause quite a stir ~ Bohemia and Central Europe. I have never seen countryside quite like it, nor do I know enough of the history to comment on its current politically tumultuous occurrences, al I know is I have a new home, and a new life to start. 

Of course new beginnings bring fond memories of the Antipodes and the young Captain whom I think of often, and even my longer acquaintance with the blonde Esquire... Here I am looking for no man, only peace and tranquillity that comes with a lack of the presence of testosterone and berating, pawing men.

Why are they never happy until they have consumed you and claimed you for their own? As flattering as it is to be wanted by a man, I shall choose and make my own decisions about whom I want. And if he does not want me, then that is a challenge I shall accept, as would be the rejection, should it follow.

Most men I have met do not seem to understand, or even comprehend the idea that they may not be wanted. It is the greatest flaw of the supposed greater sex. Their egos blind them and they view women as nothing more than a trophy.

I do not want saving. I do not want to be cherished. I want to be allowed to travel the world, I want someone who will dare me to climb the tallest tree and laugh at my failures. I do not want to be coddled and put on display like some dumb animal. I have a voice and I have never been afraid to use it, but men... How often they have tried to silence my thoughts and stake a claim that was never theirs to begin with.

No doubt it is easy to tell that I am somewhat infuriated and there is nothing particularly specific to render any blame. My writing as of late has been scarce and I am putting blame on my ability to get distracted by men. Here I am without men, without anyone, and I am writing more than I have for months.

Maybe I am my greatest downfall, I know how easily I give in to temptation, but I feel at peace knowing I am free of all men. I am my own person.

Sometimes, all I'd like, is to meet someone who wants me to be my own person.

D. S.

Darlings, the Convent has taken over my life, and I had forgotten what it was like to take a step back and ignore the more trivial aspects such as gossip and frequent socialising!

I have had many days to sit and contemplate staring out at the gorgeous countryside here in Brighthelmstone, and I adore having the quality time to spend with Belle. It has been rather a shock to the system, for I have had to curb my elaborate ways and diminish my exuberant need to be the centre of attention (or rather I have at least attempted to).

What has kept me on my toes are the somewhat surprisingly commonplace letters of correspondence from the dark haired Prussian knight! Alack, the blonde Esquire has disappeared as if he never even existed ~ all but for a few fond memories that I have no desire to expunge. But his place has swiftly been replaced by the Prussian knight.

I was pleasantly surprised that there was already a letter waiting for me after my arrival at the Convent, and it could have only been days since I left the dark haired knight's arms. His intentions could not be more subtle; we talk of every subject under the sun, our passion for travel unites us in a way that breaks boundaries. I certainly already feel as if I have known him for centuries. His letters are a comfort and a familiarity that I have become all too accustomed with.

The convent has some wonderful characters this year; Belle is not the only familiar face however! The Irish Lady of Corcaigh's younger brother has joined the cloisters, and though I have never before set my eyes upon him, because we share the friendship of his sister, we have become firm friends. So too has Belle's governess joined us on these most beautiful grounds. It was delightful to reminisce about our time across the Irish Sea and the three of us laughed with candour at the memories.

There are a few new faces who have not yet made enough of an impression to write about. Well, at least I shall give them the benefit of the doubt to redeem themselves after a few drinks of ale the other night... I do believe it shall be an interesting few months!

I shall enjoy the summer months here at the Convent. But I shall too enjoy the lack of male company. It is about time I focussed on my closer friends, the bond of sisterhood that cannot be betrayed.



D. S.

A Summer Ball awaits.

A farewell evening has been organised with the intention of dancing and debauchery as a celebration of the Summer Solstice. How apt that it is just as I leave for the South, for the Convent, I have the pleasure of bidding my heartfelt goodbyes to those who have become close to me over the last few months.

My Northern blonde beauty has changed her role and is enjoying much more freedom, and I look forward greatly to the preparation we shall put into tomorrow night's misadventures. Indeed I have heard a rumour that a certain tall, dark haired gentleman from the South will make an appearance. Who he is I have yet to find out, but he left quite the impression the other week.

Life is not quite what I expected, and I never thought I'd originally expected anything from life. I long to travel, to go on a Grande Tour of my own and see worlds never seen before. The Antipodes only whet my appetite for going further afield, and see everything in between, though how I can abandon the Shire indefinitely I do not know.

Without the blonde Esquire in my life now, I have no ties to stay in one place. The Shire shall always be my home, I have that luxury, but indeed I cannot deny that there is more to this world. I do not know how to broach the subject with my family. How can I ask them to fund my travels around the world with no purpose? How can I expect them to understand my passion for all things unknown? Never would they dare let their unruly daughter travel on her own! Who would I choose to escort me?

So many things I have to think about with regards to my future.

For now I shall choose the softest fabrics of cream, decorated with summer flowers for the Ball tomorrow. I do hope this tall, dark haired gentleman appears; or at least I get to find out who he is. Because if I do spend the summer on the coast and happen to have another chance encounter with this gentleman, I cannot deny the curious and unstoppable flirtation that may arise.

D. S.

To say that I have been somewhat distracted of late is more of an understatement than I care to let leave my lips. I shall not apologise nor make false promises of never leaving you again - the inevitable end shall only be postponed - but it is not this day.

Where to begin?

My dearest Misha had previously questioned my wavering fidelity to the blonde Esquire what with his determined patriotism to Queen and country. I cannot utter the words I'm sure many of you are longing to hear - I cannot tell you that we are still sickeningly content, rolling around in the bed sheets, moaning with an intoxicating pleasure, for it is no longer true.

The blonde Esquire and I have parted ways. His time was never actually his to call his own, and though I made a promise to try - and try I did - I cannot tolerate coming second to an entire regiment. Nor the King. Nor the country. If someone loves me, they have to put me first, and that was an argument I was never going to win.

I have accepted the termination of my relationship with the blonde Esquire - at least his Mother can no longer plague my life - after all, it was originally based on a lie.

What next?

The summer is nigh and I have had correspondence from Belle that she plans to attend a Convent again this summer, but this time she wants to venture away from the Shire and travel towards the Capital. I have yet to give her my answer, though I know that my season is coming to an end. The Duke's sister has gone on her own Grande Tour of the Continent and I know the brunette is exploring her more Sapphic tendencies in the Eastern world.

I too need a change of scenery.

The seaside beckons. I ventured to the pebbled beaches on the Southern Coast a few weeks back and fell head over heels in love with the sights, smells and sounds of the sea. It hasn't the grandeur of the Antipodes, but there is nothing so quaint as the English seaside.

While gallivanting at the breaking waves I had the utmost desire to strip off all my clothes and delve into the Channel. It would have caused such a ruckus, and no doubt I'd have startled the many bystanders, but I have a craving to do something wild now that I'm free and have regained my independence.

There was one other reason than societal convention that I kept my dress on that day; I would have been witnessed by a tall, dark haired spectator. One who seemed able to read my indecent thoughts, and gave me a daring stare. I was quite caught off guard and knew not how to respond. Thankfully I saw sense to keep my clothes on! I would not want a repeat of Iberia two years ago!

But for now I shall enjoy the time I have on my own - sometimes there is nothing more that I want than to be alone - and make my 'grown up' decisions when I believe the time to be necessary.



D. S.

I guess nothing says more about a relationship than your first argument...

Can you remember what your first argument with your lover was about? Or even the last argument?

It's getting through the heated discussions that counts ~ the anger and resentment will either simmer down or boil over and either way it will be forgotten in the years to come. For I do plan on being in the blonde Esquire's life for years to come, and this first argument will be the first of many, and with every argument will come the apologies, and with every apology will come the promises and then the furore of sweet love making.

This particular argument started because of a hangover. Apparently I need to make better choices and decisions (who knew?) and start being more sensible... In fact, some could say that I need to 'grow up'. And yes, that would be a direct quote from the blonde Esquire's most kissable lips.

What makes the whole confrontation so much worse, is that he is right. I do need some direction and guidance, I need to take responsibility for my actions and deal with the consequences, and I need to learn to say 'no'.

But the more I get told everything that I already know... Well, the belligerent child in me wants to throw her toys out the cot, cross my arms and blow a raspberry.

I couldn't plan what my future holds even if I wanted to, because there are too many variables. I thought I'd have followed my heart back to the Antipodes by now to be with the Captain, or at least continued with my teaching and become a governess.

My life is ruled by inconsistencies  and all I have to hold on to right now is that the blonde Esquire may love me, but that is not going to stop him leaving me. I am slowly coming to terms with this, but even I do not know how I shall react when he finally leaves and I have nought other than myself to contend with - that and the temptations around. There is no other that I want, and I shall strive to be pure; distance is not an excuse, nor time an invitation, but I am only human.



D. S.

I've been home for nearly two weeks from the blissful reverie that was Rome and I believe  I am still most rested and content. For the first time in months I feel I can handle what the future holds, even though there is still a lot of uncertainty as to what direction that may be.

All I know is that I have to cope with the heartache of having the blonde Esquire leave me for the army, to be a soldier, to go wherever he is told. To think that this whole relationship started as a farce, as a joke, and now I wait for the moment that he leaves me, as I left the Captain, with the promise of return... To never forsake what it is we have.

I loved the Captain with an innocent, naive charm; he was a comfort, a tease and so unobtainable I could barely think straight when I saw him. The blonde Esquire is altogether a completely different love. It was unexpected and has been built on a friendship based on trust, despite the tryst he proclaimed to me all those months ago. 

The love I feel for the blonde Esquire is something I completely marvel at because I have no idea where it came from as it was not the desired result. We were to end, that was our purpose. Yet now I can think of nothing more terrifying than to have the blonde Esquire leave me, which is exactly what is to happen.

I do not have a choice in the matter. My choice lies with what to do while the blonde Esquire becomes the hero that I know he can be.

Shall I stay with him, learn to cope with the distance and wait for his fleeting return?

Could I really bring myself to leave him when all he is doing is pursuing a soldier's life, making the world a better place?

D. S.

Roma!

What words are there to describe the city that is the catalyst for western civilisation?  I was completely blown away by the size, the gargantuan architecture and the incomparable history that Rome has to offer.

The Colosseo, the fontane de trevi,  the Vatican... I was stunned into silence at the magnificence of it all. How can one city hold so much history? I adore that love and passion rule all there is to Rome - mothers, fathers, brother and lovers killing and dying for their right to sovereignty. There is so much to learn from all Rome - despite, or rather in spite of its own trials and tribulations, and a chequered past that can rival no other, Rome has survived its own evils and lives on.

The blonde Esquire and I roamed the streets, discovering tiny back alleys that gave way to churches and halls, columns and fountains, arches and domes. Each of which had its own personal and detailed history, whether by its raison d'etre or because of its creator- Leonardo Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Gian Lorenzo Bernini. 

Falling in love is what walking through Rome feels like; every step and your breath gets snatched away as you fall deeper and deeper into the abyss that is completely beyond your control. I fell head over heels in love with Rome, and the blonde Esquire? He was there, every step of the way, holding my hand, staring into my eyes, wrapping his arms around me as I failed to utter complete sentences, awe struck by Rome.

Darlings if you ever get the chance, go to Rome, fall in love with Rome. It may be my favourite place on the whole Continent, and the fact I got to share every moment with the blonde Esquire only makes me love it so much more.

D. S.

A glorious Easter Sunday dictates sunnier spring climes and a look to the future. I hope the weekends festivities have not left you longing for more, but have rather sated the deficit of Lent. I am pleased to announce that I succeeded in my aim - not a single (nor pair) of shoes were purchased in the last six weeks, and too did I abstain from overindulging my appetite. 

But of course I am now free to invest in the perfect pair of shoes, and indulge to my heart's content.

There is no doubt in my mind that I shall have a spending frenzy when in Rome, for 'when in Rome...' 

I have not seen the blonde Esquire for a few days - he was called away to a wedding and I was uninvited. A little put out is all I shall say on the matter, for I know it was out of his control to invite me. And after our rather frank discussion the other day there is no doubt in our minds that marriage is a long way off.

To think that the basis of this relationship started with the bluntest of proposals - albeit a tryst to engage in a rather intrepid game of lies and deceit - has come full circle. I have fallen for him, I do love him, and here I am having to wait for the blonde Esquire's career and life long opportunities to be over before I am put first.

I think I'd worry about it less if I had a goal of my own... I can play the piano, sing and sew, I love children and teaching and am willing to have open discussions about politics. I can make people feel comfortable in any situation and I know how to host a Ball that will be talked about for years to come... But what can I do?

While the blonde Esquire still has a month before he becomes a man at arms and languishes in my bed, I have little time to think of my own future. But I know once he leaves that idle hands are the devil's play thing, and I do not want to succumb to the temptations of the flesh. Therefore, I need a goal. I am ambitious, I want more... But that 'more' has no definition, and I do not currently know how to find it.

I'm hoping that Rome shall be my inspiration... Or indeed if anyone wants to include me in their plans, I'd be most grateful.



D. S.

A fortnight is all I have left in the Shire before the blonde Esquire whisks me away to the city of our civilisation's birth; Rome.

I have neglected all but he and I cannot apologise for my absence because he has become my every waking moment.

As I read that sentence I choke slightly on the nauseating optimism that had scarce before left my lips. Never would I utter such honest yet sickly, true but excessive, and almost putrid words of undying love.

Passion, yes. Lust, without a doubt. But love? These are not words that leave my mouth willingly; but whatever the reason, my tongue cannot seem to cease proclamations of joy regarding the blonde Esquire.

The cynic in me rolls her eyes profusely, glaring from behind the glass cage - but it is true - I could not be happier.

Rome!

I wish I had more to tell as I have neglected my writing for so long, but in all truthfulness I have spent my time in the blonde Esquire's arms, listening to his sweet nothings. (Oh Lord, I have started again!) 

Party's of course have been thrown - the Duke's sister and I have only a few more months together before she sojourns south for the Summer, so needless to say, there shall be many a raucous festivity before then. Recently time has been spent in doors as the weather continues to ravage the countryside.

Oh... I suppose there is one small piece of information that cannot be overlooked; the blonde Esquire has made his intentions quite clear, it is not marriage he desires, but rather an over zealous lust for war and battle.

He has declared himself a soldier, nay a warrior; a part of his heart longs to fight alongside the cavalry as it can only speak to certain men. These are men who have ideals and a zest for leadership, men whose very nature is both commanding and dispassionate while making difficult decisions. Contrary to those of us who only know how to follow orders, or dumbly refuse to take on the responsibility of other people's lives.

The blonde Esquire has yet to start his training - hence seeking forget-me-not bliss in Rome - but I know that he shall disappear soon. It seems I am destined to forever be abandoned by the men who steal my heart. I cannot and do not begrudge the blonde Esquire from his quest; he is meant to be a soldier, a leader, and I cannot deny him his destiny. But there are no words to describe how much I'll miss him.

No words.

D. S.

I have barely left the bedchamber, wrapped in sheets, dripping beads of perspiration, uttering ceaseless moans of pleasure. I cannot repeat any further the misbehaviour that has taken place at my abode, but think no less of me, nor my actions, for the ruse is slowly slipping away.

The blonde Esquire has managed to tame the beast within; I no longer ache for the touch of anonymous lovers, but am more than content with only him. Though this relationship started as a farce, our intentions have twisted and turned and true emotions have crept in between the lies. 


I do not know whether his unrelenting honesty as the catalyst of our secret tryst makes me trust him more, or whether I am falling for a man whose every intention was to make me love him, but I do know that I am falling for him.

Four months have passed and I have not looked at another man. At first it was a game, keeping me entertained as I played along with the blonde Esquire's needs. But now? I am anxious when I do not hear from him, we barely leave each other's sides and our families have mentioned words that cannot be unheard - betrothal.

Of course I question whether or not his Mother was in on the ruse from the off, and if it was me that has been played... But I have asked time and time again what it is he wants and I constantly get the same response.

'You. I want you.'

I have been wanted and lusted after by so many men... The English gentleman, the Scottish Earl, the White Knight and they too were adamant in their wanting of me, but I am not fool enough to believe they all loved me. In fact, I can happily admit that their intentions were purely physical, but I cannot deny that mine were all too similar.

But when the blonde Esquire looks at me, I feel his want, his ice blue eyes burn into mine with a desperation that could not be fake; no one could possibly emit a look so loving as he. Besides I have heard all the lies that can be said, I could recognise the empty promises without a word being uttered.

For example, the White Knight played the part of chivalrous second-place oh so well when I first began the blonde Esquire's ruse, but a few months down the line? It seems he was more interested in having me to himself and has long since lost contact entirely. A little bit shocked I was, but the Duke's sister has comforted me in saying he has cut ties with all of his ex-lovers in a similar vein so I ought to think nothing of it. She is right, of course, but my pride hurts, for one always wants to think of themselves as the main attraction, and not as a milieu of courtesans.

However I shall ignore the obvious cry for attention and focus on my happiness. It is true, I am so happy I could burst. I wish the rest of the world could feel my happiness... I don't know what I've done to deserve it, but I shall revel in the joy I feel, for who knows how long it shall last?

D. S.

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.