So much has happened since I last found the time to write something of note, that I do not quite know where to start. To think I am in the midst of my final week in Dearne Valley and it only feels like yesterday that I was making the move this far North. Where does the time go? 

I cannot pretend that it has been an easy fortnight, despite the glorious distractions I have encountered, but change tends to make everyone a little wary and apprehensive, even if I am the instigator of that change. Or is that because I am the instigator of all this change?

Again, I am not going to write a confession to set the tongues wagging. Mistakes have been made and life goes on. 

Instead I am going to reminisce about the delightful weekend I had with my Lords and Ladies of the Shire on our coastal rendez vous last weekend. We feasted, pranced and indulged with a furore that the Viking gods would have been proud of. It made me realise how grateful I am to call them all my friends, and I shall miss each and every one of them while I sojourn in the Far East. 

We were graced with the presence of the Duke's sister, the brunette, Harlequin and many fair Ladies who each have a special place in my heart. We took part in many rural activities, though I cannot claim to have caught any fish (which I was most disappointed about!). It was a weekend to remember and I am still on a high when I think about the fun we had.

With Dearne Valley coming to a close, Brighthelmstone is beckoning ever closer, and this time I am taking a more active role. I have more responsibilities than ever and I have already begun my preparation for the summer! It is something I am most looking forward to, not least because it shall give me the time to come to terms with all that has happened this past year. 

All this talk of what I have to do is making me more aware that I should do less talking and take more action. As always my summers are inundated with activity but that doesn't mean my writing isn't a priority ~ only it becomes ore ethereal as it seeps in and out of my consciousness. 

I shall always write and create stories even when my life is as hectic as it is now. 



D. S.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it still make a sound?

Therefore, if a sin is committed but there is no one to witness the act, does it really count?

I am as terrible as that sounds, but I am not yet brave enough to utter the words that could send me spiralling into an alcohol-fuelled frenzy. It is better that I close that door and walk away from the damage I have caused without a glance behind me. 

It is not the first time I have made such a mistake, but far from being an entertaining entry, this seems to have potential repercussions that I cannot soften with kind words and hollow promises. I may have even outdone myself this time. 

So, instead of focusing on that misdemeanour I will rather reminisce about the weekend just passed and exclaim proudly my love for my Irish Lady of Corcaigh, the brunette and four minstrels who kept us suitably entertained all the while. 

To think a year has vanished since we last drank in each other's company is absurd, but it felt like no time had passed as we joked about our time in the City of a Hundred Spires, watching intently the delicious quartet who serenaded our reunion. They were clearly a little too young for each of us (words I never thought I'd say), probably no older than the enamoured young Captain from the Antipodes. But they each exuded a confidence that was electrifying. It is not often I can find a man to transfix my gaze for an hour, let alone an entire evening, but those four did more than that...

I am no longer the girl that lusted after a musician for years, but there is something decidedly scrumptious about a man who knows his way around a musical instrument and can sing words that your heart has longed to hear. 

Enough about them... Though they certainly have not left my thoughts. 

The Irish Lady of Corcaigh was an absolute dream. She had so much to tell me, what with making herself known in her home town as she inspires other women to be as headstrong. Similarly, the brunette is making incredible progress in her own personal journey and her stubbornness know no bounds. It was only a fleeting rendez vous as I still have three weeks of hard toil ahead of me, but it was worth the headache I had this morning.

As everyone expected, I am suffering from itchy feet and need to be back on the road, travelling to distant lands. Though that will come, all in good time. I have a summer in Brighthelmstone to look forward to first...

D. S.

There is so much that I have to tell and I haven't a clue where to start. The last time I wrote I was enjoying my life in abundance with the brunette and making good one of my new year's resolutions. Since then much has happened; words have been said and mistakes have been made, so much so that they could be life-altering.

But does that mean I have the strength to talk about them, to write them down? I have to admit that I am the guilty party, the one more culpable in these latest occurrences, and if I actually put pen to paper and own up to the crime... Then that cannot be undone.

I know that over the years I have flitted in and out of people's hearts, cities, countries without so much as a second thought as to the consequences of my actions. I have always been rather hedonistic, and though I had toned down my behaviour of late, it seems that my so-called maturity was nothing more than a facade. 

Nevertheless, I am back in Dearne Valley for my final month of solitude before I travel to Brighthelmstone for the summer. I am fortunate that the Irish Lay of Corcaigh is gracing me with her presence this weekend, so as to distract me from my ever tumbling thoughts of despair. We have not seen each other since that eventful night in Bohemia and I cannot wait to reminisce and make new memories with her. 

My week in the Shire was more relaxing than I give it credit ~ both my father and brother were in attendance and it was delightful to spend some time with them, feasting and celebrating our successes in life. 

I even managed a short jaunt to the northern counties, catching a glimpse of the Duke of Albany before he disappeared on a rendez vous of his own. I miss the city that I have called home for so many years. Though the Shire runs through my veins, the northern counties will always tug at my heart. Much like the Antipodes and Bohemia will always bring me fond memories. 

I am not yet brave enough to utter the sin I have committed. Instead I sway back and forth between burying my head in the ground and moving on entirely. For truly, the only way is forward.



D. S.

Whenever it takes me too long to write and I take an unintentional hiatus from what I care about its because I'm living my life to the full and enjoying myself a little more than I should be. 

I suppose that's exactly what's happened... Yet again. 

I am back in my darling Shire and have spent the last few evenings whiling away the hours with my brunette Lady, drinking and dancing and cavorting with men who are only as delightful as the night lasts as we soon discovered they had less than wonderful intentions. But being the strong, independent women that we are, it didn't take long to pop their metaphorical bubbles and leave them cold. Girls, sometimes, just want to have fun!

Dearne Valley has been an interesting experiment, and with a few weeks left to go before Brighthelmstone, I fully intend to make the most of the time there. I have to admit I'm not quite as enamoured with the North as I was a few weeks ago, but que sera sera. It isn't forever, and I'm more excited about the prospect of moving to the Far East. 

The Duke too has made his decision... He is to stay on in the northern counties. He has made a life for himself and is not yet ready to uproot his life for me, again. Promises have been made to see each other as often as we can, and I know that distance is difficult, but if we have survived it the once, then I also believe we can survive it again. 

I have much to look forward to which does make it difficult to appreciate what I have now, but I am doing my best. 

D. S.

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.

I can't believe how the time has flown! Already tomorrow shall we be one month closer to the rough winds of May, and I barely have a weekend to myself throughout the whole of April. But that only means joyous things to me as the Duke of Albany travels across the Continent and joins me once again. 

Where to begin?

I suppose the artist's eventual repercussions need to be discussed after her ghastly treatment of me, though I do promise that I was swift and only slightly less just than I should have been...

Indeed, I also have the pleasure of sashaying through delightful memories from the weekend. The brunette (of all people) and Armiger surprised me with a visit to the City of a Hundred Spires, and we gossiped, and laughed, and drank to our hearts' content. 

Though I suppose, first, I shall quickly skim over my latest rendez vous with the artist.

After I showed my face and was so warmly received by the Duke's family at his home here in Bohemia and managed to waylay the artist ever so briefly, I was surprised to receive an invitation from the painter. She had made it quite clear that she had no interest in painting me ever again, and truly I cannot imagine what else we would say to each other. 

So to tea I went. It's normally a fruit tea of sorts in Bohemia, so I had Jeeves bring with us some English tea as I can't stand the boiled citrus fruits that are claimed to be tea! I was right, of course, lemon and apple I think were the combinations on offer, but before I so rudely poured my own tea, the artist asked me if I knew how many paintings she'd done for the Duke.

A silly question, or so I thought, but I did assume I was not the first. I hazarded a guess at two or three, mainly because the Duke had mentioned one or two names to me previously, and as much as an honour it was to be asked, I am not completely naive. 

I do wish I'd aimed higher however, as the artist showed me sketches of seventeen other women, all of whom have had their likenesses painted by this artist in some glorified silhouette.  I didn't want to rise to the bait, and I casually shrugged it off with a nonchalant, 'everyone has the right to a past,' but I do fear the Duke may have some explaining to do when he returns next week! 

According to the artist she doesn't want to have to paint one of the Duke's women more than once, because no woman should have to suffer through that repetition of being marked and tagged more than once. I snidely asked if she'd ever had to do a self portrait for his collection, and she scowled at the insinuation. 

Of course the Duke has a past! I have a past and I'm sure he'd be horrified to hear about some of the things I've done in my life. But c'est la vie. We eventually parted ways and I shall make no more contact with her, the artist. She lives a provincial life and she certainly wouldn't have understood the drunken debauchery the brunette, Armiger and I sank into this weekend!

It was an absolute delight to see them, despite being for such a short time. I couldn't remember the last time we three had been all together, especially on the Continent! But we certainly made up for lost time as we partied and danced and laughed our way into the early morn. It was a weekend I shall never forget. I truly adore my friends and was grateful that many conversations were left unsaid as we rekindled our platonic relationships. 

I am to travel again this weekend, to the West of Bohemia and visit some more local friends. I'm intrigued as I do love going to places I've never seen before, but am not sure what to expect. No doubt that means an extra suitcase or three, but it would be terribly bad manners to turn up under-dressed! 

Keeping busy is keeping me distracted from the words the artist told me, and allows me no time to think of the Duke's absence. I will have him in my arms, to hold (and ask a question or two) in ten days. I am tingling at the very thought!



D. S.

Another week is coming to a close and while I lie in bed and count the days until the Duke's arrival, I cannot help but feel I am allowing myself to wallow in self-pity.

It's rather disturbing because I have never been of a melancholy nature, rather always one to make the most of a situation. But without the Duke by my side, I am finding it rather difficult to keep my spirits up.

My writing has taken over my life, which I suppose is the most positive outcome while I wait for the Duke to sort out his accommodation in the Northern Counties. I long to see what he shall purchase; if it is anything like the properties he calls home here in Bohemia, no doubt they shall be spectacular.

I have not yet had a letter from him, though Jeeves assures me that the moment one arrives it shall be planted in my hand with the utmost care and speed. Though it saddens me not to have heard from him, I do have to admit that I too have neglected to send him a letter as of yet... In many respects, we truly are as bad as each other.

The contours of the gorgeous sapphic lover have kept me entertained in my bedroom, so much so that we spent two days wrapped up between the sheets. But though she is wonderful, she does not have the same zest for life nor sparkle in her eye that the brunette used to have. I never thought that I would long for my past lovers, and I don't, but the brunette was special as she initiated me into the ways of the sapphic world.

Maybe I shall contact the artist and have another painting done as a present for the Duke on his return? That sounds like a sensible way to keep me entertained and distracted from my boredom...

D. S.

To think ten days have passed since I last married quill, ink and parchment to declare the troubled thoughts in my head. I have been silent only because I have been enraptured by life, caught in its clasp and have not yet tried to fight against the inevitability. 

I am still ensnared, but while the body next to me breathes softly in their sleep, I am free to write and to give you a brief encounter of what has occurred.

The Duke of Albany and I have fought. And forgiven. And argued. And apologised. And screamed profanities to enrage the other, while letting the words melt away and making up most vehemently. It is exhausting spending time with him as I can never fathom what mood shall take him, yet the moments when I am in the presence of someone calm and predictable I long for the Duke's outbursts.

He has devised many reasons for us to spend more time together, and Jeeves has sanctioned to be a part of it no more. He claims he cannot watch over me for with every second I spend with the Duke I dangle deliriously close to a breach of fraternising, that Jeeves doesn't wish to be a party to. Of course I allowed Jeeves the freedom to disappear expertly when the time called, and the Duke has many excuses for us to spend time together.

It does continue to surprise me that the Duke knows my past almost better than I do; I had no idea my reputation had spanned an entire Continent (even the incidents in Iberia, and with the brunette) and for purely physical reasons I understand why the Duke seems infatuated with me. 

I don't know whether Jeeves knew what the Duke had planned or not, but it was a timely exit for his chaperoning, as the Duke presented me with a choice. The deviant games we play should not be made public, I know that much - for how else does a reputation travel so fast? But I cannot keep my pleasure to myself. It should be for the world to share.

We were lounging in his library, comparing ideas about the recklessness of Fanny Hill when the Duke mentioned his intrigue about Sapphic love. At first I rolled my eyes, for what man does not want more than he can handle, but as I tried to explain the love between two women, the Duke clicked his fingers and proudly presented me with a carnal delight of the female flesh. 



So beautiful she stood, fair hair tumbling to her waist, a simple cloak covering her desirable figure. I unknowingly licked my lips as I stared, not able to comprehend what it was the Duke was asking. He whispered in the woman's ear words that I could not hear, and she smiled, stepping forward and reaching for my hand, the cloak falling from her bare shoulders. 

Names were one of the few things not exchanged as the heat of the room made us forget any principles and we feasted on the electrifying lust between us. The Duke, ever the gentleman, left at some point, for I never felt his hands upon my body, and I have to admit I was rather preoccupied with the svelte figure wrapped around me to notice much more. She still lies in the bed next to me, and it has been more than three days since the Duke left me to my Sapphic tendencies. 

I'm sure a game is being played, and I'm sure I shall lose out in the end, but hedonism is living for the moment, and who am I to refuse the beauty of another woman? She awakes... I shall have to disappear again, for how long I do not know, nor care. I only wonder when the Duke shall return to claim what is his...



D. S.

I have spent an entire week in the company of the blonde Esquire, championing our seemingly blossoming love for the happiness of his Mother. We have danced and dined and conversed to our hearts content, getting to know each other without the pressure of a destined future.

The blonde Esquire has kept me thoroughly entertained and so far this ruse has been terribly easy to keep up! I enjoy his company, and have learnt many interesting things about my Shire which were previously unknown to me.

Apparently the wealth of the Shire has primarily been through the wool mills dotted around the various villages. We supply the most wool in England and have our gorgeous countryside to thank for that. It had never occurred to me before that my heritage has grown out of something more than just my name! I felt quite ignorant as the blonde Esquire described the labours of the millers.

The winter months are drawing to a close though the weather has got even colder and a sheet of snow has covered the hills that have earned even greater respect from me. It is  most pleasing to have the blonde Esquire pay me the utmost tender attention; he does not stray from the story we have begun to weave, though when it is just he and I, sometimes I forget that I'm not allowed to fall in love with him. 

His honesty is surprising at the best of times, but as he drifts between discussing philosophical topics to the ways of the world that even I don't understand I cannot fathom what it is in this world that he wants! He berates me for looking at him with questioning eyes, but I do not know what questions I want to know the answer to... I've been given a free reign to plough his mind for any clarification of any queries that I cannot control, but despite his blunt approach I have more questions than answers and I'm a little afraid to give him the opportunity to answer!

Of course, because I felt a little wary about someone I threw myself into the willing arms of another to give my self what I know is a false sense of security. But I think I can be forgiven considering the soft, milk white arms have held and caressed me many times before... The brunette has reappeared for the time being! She pouted mercilessly as I chided her wanton longing but there was very little chance I wouldn't give in to her tender lips and plump bosom.

I still have no thought as to what my future holds; but for now I shall enjoy his company and look forward to a travel afar... Belle has surprised me with a trip across the Irish sea to visit the Irish lady of Corcaigh whom we taught with over the Summer! I have a month to wait until this intrepid journey but I look forward to it with much gusto and refuse to pay attention to the tentative thoughts that stray and think about the blonde Esquire!



D. S.

I'm feeling a little forlorn and lost as my time at the Convent wavers on the apex of its denouement, lacking direction and a purpose. I remember this frustration about a year ago and my answer was to leave the Shire, to travel 12,000 miles and abandon any semblance of a life I'd known before. 

Shall I make that drastic decision again and leave rather hurriedly? I cannot yet give a confirmation as to my future whereabouts, only knowing that my time at the Convent is dwindling and soon I shall be free to make more mistakes.

The White Knight has written reams about his travels abroad and the difficulty he had in the decision to leave ~ but of course I understand that his duty to his country comes before me. It was wonderful having his attentions focussed on me, but his intensity was rather daunting.

I heard from the brunette no more than a few days ago... She is on her way back to the Antipodes and truly my heart skipped a beat when she told me that the Captain would be on board her ship. The pang I felt reminded me of the love I have left behind; three months we have been apart and still I think about him with tenderness. The feelings are rather more sporadic these days, but I think it does not help that I do not know what the future holds.

As I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, regrets pool at the edge of my thoughts, despite my life's ambition to live with no regrets. What would I change if I had the power to go back in time? Is there anything I would or would not do again?



D. S.