Duchess of the Shire

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.