Evening wanders seem to have taken over my life as I trundle across the beach arm in arm with the masked guest... He has wined and dined me like a true gentleman, teaching me of his craft as a Stone Mason and I enjoy the little titbits he tells me of the city he has helped to build. He is the perfect distraction from my days of labour and we share a frank relationship; there is no talk of the future and no discussion of philandering. I do not know where this is going to lead but I am enjoying the current situation. 


That is, if I don't think outside the world my masked guest draws me into... The real world, unfortunately, is fraught with slippery decisions and potentially fatal consequences. 


My olive-skinned lover has made a series of demands that I cannot accept; her fiancé mewling at her feet like a stray cares not for her actions only for her praise. I fear I cannot abide their presence for too much longer and it shall mean the termination of our relationship. But how does one remove an unwanted guest? Mother has told me to be direct, but my olive-skinned brunette has lived in my bedchamber for nearly a month and it is impossible to find the words to rid me of her ever nearness. She dislikes my masked Stone Mason and is forever intervening in my life... I feel hampered and wrote to the nun asking for help. If anyone can help me it will be the Church, though I know I have been less faithful in more recent times. 

It's times like these when I miss the Court Jester and Armiger the most. The two of them were like brothers, but so much closer to me than my own. They did not agree with my every whim and were never afraid to speak their mind. My brunette argues with me constantly but it is never for my sake, she has her own agenda that I cannot fathom and it is not something I want to be a part of. 


There is yet another admirer I have subsequently failed to mention; Rowing, it seems, has made it to this side of the world, and I am keen to rectify my position as Patron to a new Boat Club. I am in talks with a Captain here in the Antipodes but he is nothing like the previous Captain whose amorous intentions were made clear at the Ladies Dinner many months ago...


This Antipodean Captain is rather young in comparison, indeed he is the same age as my younger brother (which horrifies me every time I think of it). But he is ever so keen and obliging to my every wish and he mollifies my mood swings and has an enthusiasm that knows no bounds. He is different than the masked Stone Mason, though I'm sure they share a carnal thought, but no less refreshing. 


I shall write to the Coxswain and let her know how my love life fairs, for her insight is always much appreciated!





D. S.

It seems that disguises beguile my new acquaintances just as much as my dear friends on the other side of the world. Of course I'm doing best to oblige the Antipodeans and I believe I'm charming them successfully, but there was nearly a slight faux pas last night...


My love life had diminished considerably in lieu of my labour commitments. The attention I was procuring from the betrothed brunette had become my entire world, and still I think of her with a slight pang in my chest. However I have kept my distance over the last few days, concentrating on spending time with my family and keeping up my correspondence with the my darlings in the Shire and the Northern counties.


However, I was not aware that the masked guest from many weeks ago had been attempting to get in touch with me. My scheming brunette had waylaid his letters and succeeded in distracting my attentions from his whole existence. It wasn't until I found my gorgeous Venetian mask that I'd worn the evening the two of us had met that I remembered I hadn't heard from him since the mysterious bouquet of flowers.


Picking up the mask a note fluttered to the floor. At first I though I was being subject to another of my brunette's games, but it was from the masked guest, asking to meet at a nearby beach. At first I lamented thinking the time had passed, but I heard from one of the servants that a man had been waiting on the beach every night for nearly month, but no one knew who or what he was waiting for. 


Of course my spirits soared and I made arrangements to leave that evening for the beach alone. My brunette lover tried her best to hold me back, throwing temptation in my face with such vulgarity that her desperation sent me to the shores that much quicker.


I know it was foolhardy to leave her in a temper, but I am finding my darling brunette somewhat suffocating and for the first time in weeks I felt free as I fled to the beaches. I had no guarantee that the masked guest would appear as I hoped, but he was there before I arrived. A tall, masculine silhouette stood on the sand as the sea lapped at his bare feet. I wore the gold and pearl mask to remind him who I was, and to reassure myself that he hadn't forgotten me.


Nothing was said as I walked towards him. He didn't turn until I was touching distance apart and then he smiled, lifting the mask from my face and planted a kiss on my lips. I don't want to say any more just yet. I am happy and want to keep this happiness to myself... For now.





D. S. 

Being abroad is such a distraction from my writing; I cannot believe I have neglected it for so long! But I plan on rectifying that situation post haste.

The rendez vous I was to have with the masked guest was mysteriously cancelled. I know that sounds optimistic on my behalf, but there was an element of mystery involved regarding the cancellation and my brunette woman the following day. For the second postponement I was sent a gorgeous bouquet of sumptuous red roses, white lilies and chrysanthemums, which although beautiful was a little forward. The masked guest has so far been keeping his intentions pure, and I do not see a romance blossoming if we do not see each other soon.


It wasn't until the following day when I was meeting with my not-so-anonymous woman and she did not ask about the flowers so prominently displayed, that it occurred to me she knew nothing of the cancellation. But nor did she enquire...


I suppose she was wrapped up in her own betrothed, whose presence accompanied us to a private menagerie, but the less said about him the better. It was a wonderful day, which helped put my mind at ease for a few hours and I loved seeing all the animals on parade, but something wasn't quite right, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Do I sound exceedingly jealous? I hope not. Though maybe I am. It isn't the same jealousy I had for Belle and the Gameskeeper, because it was both of their company that I missed as they spent more time together... I know I don't approve of her fiancé; he is much younger than her and nothing more than a Squire, fawning all over her and making her act like nothing more than a child with a plaything. There is something disheartening about their relationship and I wish I could put words to how it makes me feel, because 'sick' is a little strong...


It wasn't until we returned home that my brunette asked if I liked the flowers she sent. Startled I explained that the note had said they were from the masked guest and they were an apology for cancelling our rendez vous. She just laughed in my face, saying, 'if that's what the note said, it must be true.'


My thoughts are in a turmoil as to whether or not she was just teasing, for she parted by planting a kiss firmly on my lips, in front of her betrothed! But what if she was telling the truth? What implications can I derive from her actions?




D. S.

It has just occurred to me that in being here over a month, the White Knight has failed to respond to my letter imploring him to keep in contact. How rude.


There is not much I can do to scorn him; I could not avoid his presence more keenly than by staying twelve thousand miles away, here in the Antipodes, but I am stung slightly, by his arrogance in believing he could ignore me!


At least I have found refuge in the no-longer-anonymous woman's company. We laugh merrily about the sticky situation we got ourselves into at the Manor party and how we survived the scandal, even though the three of us were walked in on. We  ponder as to what has become of the third member of our ménage à trois, and delight in the memories as we tease each other; neither of us quite brave enough to make the first move.


I sound besotted, and though I am intrigued by her passion and content in her presence, I do not crave her approval nor pine for her when we are not together. It is not a desire like one I had for the musician or Head Architect, it is far more comfortable and I suppose that comes from us both being women and understanding our own needs... I'm sure Marie Antoinette would understand.


In two days time I shall have my rendez vous with the masked guest. I am to be wined and dined in the city and I cannot wait, for the countryside has it's beauty but there are few distractions so enticing as the city.


My labouring too, takes me into the city and I have seen places that I didn't even realised existed. Working in fashion has truly opened my eyes, and I feel embarrassed to think how ignorant I was before I'd laid a finger on a piece of cloth that wasn't already stitched and sewn into life. My no-longer-anonymous woman doesn't approve of my work, she is of too high a class to appreciate the skill of craft, and though she is not even a Duchess, she has no want to learn, whereas I crave an understanding of everything that I do not know. I appease her by attending soirées and garden parties, but they hold very little meaning here in the Antipodes, especially if I think of the raucously civilised events held by my dearest friends...

And with that, I must remember to respond to their letters accordingly. There is much to tell them and even more to ask.





D. S.

I can scarcely believe I have been in the Antipodes for over a month! It truly feels like home, though as we get closer to Christmas the weather is also getting warmer, and I wonder what a Summer Christmas will be like, especially as I receive letters from my Ladies enjoying the English Winter...

I have even had the pleasure of correspondence from the nun, whom has sent me news of her darling baby boy who has started crawling around and causing mischief. I too am looking forward to hearing from the Coxswain and her lover, though I have recently been disappointed in the Gameskeeper who hasn't been in touch since the Masquerade Ball... But at least the masqued guest has kept up his correspondence and I am looking forward to seeing him dreadfully!

Indeed, the anonymous woman too created quite a stir when we dined last week. It seems an inebriated evening at the Manor party back in March brought the two of us together for the first time... I had no idea she was moving to the Antipodes, and apparently she has already been here for over six months so I am making the most of spending time with her close friends and acquaintances. 

We have celebrated the Season of the Games over the last few days, any excuse of course for a good time, but that the Antipodes won and have become true Champions was the cherry on the proverbial cake. Champagne has been drunk by the crates and though I have still been going to work (!) my concentration is waning and I find myself looking forward to the celebrations more than anything else... Typical me.

I have got to know those whom I work with a lot more and I love their blunt and energetic personalities. I hope I didn't come across as judging them too harshly before I knew them properly! Hopefully I have learned not to be so prejudiced! 

In two weeks time my Mother shall travel from the Autumnal British Isles and join me in the Antipodes and I cannot wait to be reunited with all of my relatives. Christmas, when my Father and Carpenter Brother join us, shall truly be a familial affair, but until then, I shall continue in my frivolities and the excessive labouring for the world of fashion!

D. S.

I have never before professed my loathing for the unknown, but it seems that the time has come, and I can no longer keep silent.

The labours that I have undergone have opened my eyes to the convoluted world beneath the garments which I wore without a moments thought. Tears are shed, and scars are borne, without complaint ~ the finished masterpiece is all that occupies their mind. Impressed doesn't even surmount to the emotions I felt as I toiled alongside them, inadequate probably amasses to what I've felt most. 

But I refuse to give in since I have written to my parents to tell them of my efforts, and there is something quite satisfying about working for one's self. 

So for now I shall continue, 'earning my keep', as it were, and get to know the women a little bit more. I was terribly surprised to find they are like a loud, loving family. Nothing so refined as my Ladies of the Shire, nor even as hushed and secretive as those in the Northern Counties, but rather honest and upfront about their dreams and ambitions, and impossible to keep quiet about their beaux. It is ever so refreshing, because they do not regard their love lives as scandalous, they are all ever so matter of fact!

It truly makes me wonder about the conventions we aristocracy have to put up with... I know I flout them wherever possible, but I am glad too that my family do not try and trap me within their confines.

There is someone, however, who has once again caught my eye. The anonymous brunette has clearly been inspired by the same muse as Luthien, for I have been sent an invitation to meet with her tonight. I hope she will disclose where before our paths have crossed, for I am racked with intrigue, yet I fear for my humiliation in not remembering her.

Unfortunately, the Masqued guest had to postpone our own rendez vous, for which I had to admonish myself in allowing my hopes to rise. I don't know what I expected, but surely if it was to be then he would not have failed to make his intention known? 

I am surrounded by guises of all types, and it frustrates me to know that I am in the dark, through no folly of mine own... I hope.



D. S.

Can you believe that I have taken up labouring in the hope it shall keep my idle hands from meddling in other people's lives?


Indeed, fashion has once again beckoned and I have spent the last few days with mademoiselles de la mode, learning about their craft and appreciating their skills more than ever before. In fact, for the first time ever! How sheltered I have lived my life. I am so glad to have this opportunity to explore another culture, and to acquire a greater understanding while travelling out in the Antipodes.


The incident that spurred on this learning curve was relatively trivial; I overheard a conversation  that revolved around my family's future... It seems my parents haven't been entirely honest for their reasons of sending me to the other side of the world. Apparently, my brother's wish to join the ranks of the Navy are still in full flow and the only way to halt the endeavour was to let him try his hand at Carpentry!


It sounds very odd, but I've always known that academia is not his forté, and that he has an aptitude for wood-based skills, but of course it is unbecoming ~ something my parents did not want to impede on me. The Navy has far more prestige, however Mother cannot bare to see him leave for sea if there is only a slim chance of his return. And for once, I whole-heartedly agree!


So to soothe my Mother's ruffled feathers, I too shall try my hand at a trade, in the hope that she will realise I am not so close-minded that I needed to be carted off! Of course it is not the only reason, but I was perturbed to find out that it has become a snippet of gossip. I know fashion has so much more to offer the nobility and aristocracy than Carpentry, but as long as my parents are appeased and my brother is happy, then so am I.

There is no more to tell about the anonymous brunette, she has evaporated into thin air and I still haven't had the gall to ask anyone if they know the name of an 'olive-skinned brunette' for I have nothing more to go on, which is terribly frustrating. But I shall continue to bide my time, for I know that our paths are meant to cross again.

I am however, looking forward to meeting again with the Masqued guest in three days time... It shall be entertaining to see him  no doubt, for he has been keeping me amused with little notes over the past week. Speaking of which, I have received letters from yonder and was delighted to hear from my Ladies. I miss them dearly. Yet still there is nothing to salve my aching curiosity in regard to the White Knight. He is keeping silent in response to my letter, and that says more than any words could...

D. S.

Unfortunately I still have no answer as to who the olive-skinned brunette is, though I have glimpsed her a second time in these past few days. It may sound odd, but I feel as if she is mocking me; almost as if she is waiting for me to remember her. But until my rendez vous with a prestigious and affluent family at the end of this week, I have no one to ask about who she may be, for my family seem not to know her.


It seems the Gameskeeper is making my life rather difficult and refusing to give me a date for when I can visit, who knows, I may just turn up and surprise him! Though it won't be until at least next week and I have a few more recent engagements...


I was ever so astonished to hear back from a guest at the Masquerade Ball. I had never expected to see his face again, nor taste his lips, but fate had other plans. We are to have a tryst in a few days and I look forward to the encounter, and I wonder if it shall hail the same results as before...

Today has been terribly productive for I wrote many letters which I have to send to England and to my dear Lords and Ladies. I'd forgotten how soothing it was to write one's thoughts on a page and I look forward to their various responses. 


Though there is one reply that I look forward to most keenly; the White Knight's. I'm not sure whether it was my family's incessant talk of marriage, or the news of the War abroad, but I wrote to him, asking nothing more than if we could keep in touch. It sounds a little silly I suppose, for by sending a letter I am in fact keeping in touch, but I don't know if he wants to hear back from me... I'm not even sure if I should acknowledge the letter that I sent. But it is too late now. It is done.


So for now I shall dwell on the mysterious woman, trying to recall where she has before played a part in my life, as well as waiting tentatively for my tête-à-tête with the Masqueraded guest.





D. S.