And he's gone.

A perfect week has ended and the Duke of Albany has left me stranded in the country of his forefathers. I should not complain for I have everything I could ever desire; he loves me and sees a future with me ~ so much so that he will move country for me! But I now have to wait until Easter before I can again touch the contours of his body.

Though I'm sure my body is grateful for the respite... We pushed the boundaries of propriety further than ever before, and I'm sure my limbs are still suffering with bruises from various instruments! Truly, I am no contortionist.

It took me a fair few days to recover from my  shock of holding the Duke in my arms despite his silence on Valentine's Day. And now that his intoxicating presence has dissipated I can find the time to breathe, yet I long for the scent of his musk. 

Of course we fought. I cannot remember a time when we didn't disagree on something, but for the first time we fought about our relationship. There is nothing to the argument other than it was fuelled by alcohol and doused by ferocious love making. I do not doubt there will never come a time where we agree on everything, and it makes for a far more passionate relationship. 

But now I have to wait. I have long distance to contend with... And we all know how well that's gone in the past (the Antipodean Captain and the Prussian Knight?) But this time it does not frighten me. I accept that time is currently not on our side, and I know I have the patience to wait for the Duke. Friends have scoffed (behind their hands, but still!) and no doubt bets have been placed, but I am confident in the love I have for the Duke. Nor do I believe his own feelings shall waver while he resides in my home country. 

I shall spend the rest of the evening reminiscing about our time in the City of A Hundred Spires and the memories we created there... I just hope the ache in my body lessens, along with the ache in my heart. 

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.

At long last I have a glimmer of time to myself to contemplate on the weeks prior to this exact moment before the future swallows me whole.

Iberia was a blissful reverie of uncomplicated musings on golden beaches with the Prussian Knight. We shared sunsets and sunrises, never letting a moment pass unaccordingly.

However, there was one slight confusion while on the Continent ~ I could not write while I relaxed in Iberia. Normally I am at my most peaceful when I put pen to paper but it seems I had too much to think about and my thoughts were unable to leave my mouth nor hand coherently.

Nevertheless I have managed to once again find the niche I am most comfortable in but it shall be ever so fleeting. I leave the Shire tomorrow, with less than two days in my home town, for more Eastern climes. The Continent still calls my name and who am I to ignore what feels almost determined? 




D. S. 

Even in the shrouded cloisters of the Convent do the Governess, Belle and I manage to divulge in drunken debauchery. An entire weekend of dancing and dallying with the supposed 'undesirables' of the world has piqued my interest to those who have a purely more hedonistic idealism that I so wish to mirror.

Brighthelmstone was host to one of the most magnificently fabulous events of the year. Lords, ladies and every possible character in between feasted at the festival that promotes the belief in one love, which is all we need. I fully support everything that Brighthemstone had to offer; there was music from around the world and morning dips in the sea, an array of lovers giving their utmost devotion to their cause. It was beautiful ~ and that's not just the overflow of damson wine that we had to drink. Even days later I remember the peaceful calm that clasped through the entire festivities.

I cannot believe that the Convent is coming to an end. Only a week do we three have left in the iron grip of the Convent. To say it has purged me of my sins would be far too optimistic, though I do believe it has helped to give me some direction. I have only three days of the Shire before departing to warmer climes in Iberia. Even fewer days do I have on my return before my travels to the Eastern continent.

It is oh so joyous to have an idea of where my life is heading, but I have barely left breathing time, not to mention a complete lack of time for error. I have no worries, only a slight apprehension. And it has intrigued me to hear from my Mother that the Peacock gentleman has enquired after me back in the Shire...

I don't know if I even a moment to spare to share a conversation with the flirt, but as an ego boost I may as well have the last word before I leave? I see no harm in a casual flirtation. And I shall have the Prussian Knight for entertainment in Iberia... Which I suppose will be less sordid!

I cannot wait for the future to come beckoning, but at the same time I am blissfully content with all I have right now, in this exact moment.



D. S.

I have made a decision. A radical decision. Iberia is calling my name and the dark haired Prussian Knight and I are going to spend a fortnight cavorting on the golden sands, not caring about the little details that are too inclined to cling to the hem of my undergarments and weigh me down.

Iberia of course is nothing new, nothing radical (not like before) and I plan on enjoying every second that I get to spend with the dark haired Prussian Knight. Afterwards however, I now have a plan of action.

A grande tour is too extravagant, too conspicuous and I feel I would lose touch with the world that I so much crave. Instead I have managed to convince my parents that I am to travel across the Continent to the Eastern borders and make a home for myself and my retinue and learn another country's culture.

I shall of course be in disguise, for a female cannot travel on her own without a reason, these are such the trappings of the life I lead, but I want to get to know another country. I remember the love I felt for the Antipodes, it shall always be my second home. But is it so wrong to want a third, a fourth?

I want to understand why there are differences in religions and races, what values different people fight for. I want to know that there is more in this world than the debauchery I have lavished upon myself for so long.

Answers shall not come swiftly for me, and I do not expect this to be easy. The gruelling task of crossing the Continent shall be mine to bear, but I look forward to the challenge once the Convent has released me from its iron grip.

It was hard for me to let the Prussian Knight know of my decision to leave the Shire; we had become terribly fond of each other's company, but I know in my heart that travelling and learning and seeing the world mean more to me than any sort of relationship we could etch out.

I watch the rain fall for the first time in a month. The yellow grass desperate for the attention of the significant droplets, the trees yearning for more than a mere smattering. A thunderstorm is brewing, there is tension in the air and an electricity that cannot be ignored.

Something is about to change.



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.