There is nothing new to report from last week other than the temperatures have risen ever so slightly and everyone is already talking about the Summer months to come. I'm afraid that may be a little premature because we haven't had the heart of Winter yet, and I would not be surprised if the worst was yet to come. 

A very relaxing weekend passed, with little to report as the Duke and I lazed about enjoying each other's company. I did make some time to see the previous amour of the Coxswain as I have yet to hear his side of the story; we chatted for hours, though nothing of much consequence was said. Nevertheless, sometimes there is nothing more therapeutic than idle chatter.

It is a little too soon to think about what I may or may not being doing in 12 months time for, and I am the first to admit it, life often doesn't go according to plan. So why plan? I have never been considered the great architect of my life, rather allowing spontaneous whims to guide me on what has turned out to be a colourful path. Not once, all those years ago, could I have imagined I'd be living in close proximity to the love of my life, having discovered him deep in the heart of another nation! 

I am feeling a lot more confident that whatever happens will be for the best. I cannot think of which I'd rather choose, because each time I think I've decided, I only wake having convinced myself of the other! It is also true that some of me closest peers from my childhood are beginning to start families of their own, and it sometimes makes me wonder why I do not feel anywhere near ready for motherhood.

Is there something wrong with me? I adore children and work in close proximity with them as often as my station allows, but to have a brood of my own?! It is possibly the only conversation the Duke and I have not dared venture, though I believe that is because of a lack of interest on both our parts, rather than a fear of the subject itself. As happy as I am for my friends who have a great adventure ahead of them as Mothers and Fathers, I am much more content knowing that the whole world is still mine, a partially discovered oyster that has yet to release its pearl.



D. S.

Can you believe where I am darlings, after all these years? The place where my story began. Somewhere that holds dear memories and most of my regrets. The place where I made the firmest of friends and learnt heartbreak. Somewhere I cultivated my interests and aimed a little higher. The place up north that I have longed to once more call my home.

I'm back.

Nevertheless, it's a little different this time round... I have the Duke of Albany on my arm for one. There was a time when no less than two men would have kept my ravenous appetite at bay, but now all my extra-curricular activities are more than satisfying, and I wouldn't want it any other way. 

I have had my wild and rebellious way with the world and though I did not lose that battle, I will admit defeat. I no longer want to stay up all hours of the night only to wake with a head that burns with the aftermath of lust and gluttony. I have grown, and it is only wonderful to see my old home with new eyes. 

Of course it has changed, haven't we all over the years? I do not have the Court Jester to listen to my heartache, or the Duchess of Tuthershire to drink red wine with. There is no Lady Lina to remind me of my mistakes or Harlequin to guide the attention his way. Nor do I have the musician, the Brewer and the Gameskeeper, that wonderful trio whom I miss sorely. I shall have to have them all to visit, but when I do not know, for my position begins in four days!

Thankfully I do still have the wonderful Coxswain and her gentleman. They have not left the shores of the Northern counties and I look forward immensely to reacquainting myself with them. And of course, how could I forget my darling Belle. She was half the reason I applied to return to this side of the world. It will be like old times and I cannot wait to listen to her words of wisdom.

Living with the Duke is, in itself, rather daunting. Our personalities clash and we are far too independent to easily fit into one another's lives. For example, I like to have my evening meal rather late, however he is used to having dinner two or three hours earlier. Compromises are rife, though the internal battles I don't doubt are more so. In some ways it feels like we have lived under the same roof for all our lives, but in other ways I'd love nothing more than to push him down the stairs! But I cannot deny my happiness, with every step I want to thank the world I live in for my happiness. I feel so blessed.

To new beginnings and a return to a county that stole my heart all those years ago.



D. S.

What a fool I was to think I could figure out a man who let my mind wander into the land of gullibility with such ease. 

Ah, the ball. It was a delight; everything I could have imagined had I dared, and so much more than had ever crossed my mind before. The scurrilous and wily messenger laughed at my perplexed expression for some time as it took me longer than I care to admit to realise he had no master, nor was he some lowly messenger. 

As he held my waist and we danced to the vibrant sound of a string quartet I floundered most ungracefully for words to admonish the man before me. I fought my conscience against apologising for my behaviour as I couldn't believe I'd been hoodwinked so obviously. Now that I thought about it, it vexed me somewhat to think I'd been such a fool, especially in regards to my replies! 

Soon after several dances without uttering a word, the messenger, or indeed my most courteous servant, (whom Jeeves was abashed to admit he'd thought they were one and the same) took my hand and led me round his gardens, talking of the beauty of Bohemia, but divulging nothing more about the letter's of the last month.

I do have to admit I too was rather at a loss for words. I wanted to know more about this Bohemian grandchild, yet I could not declare my ignorance without exacerbating my foolhardy behaviour. And there was something about his blue eyes that made me wither inside, as if I were victim of more than just a misunderstanding or a hoax. It was as if he was biding his time to tell me a deep, dark secret that he'd been living with his whole life.

Honestly, the entire escapade was exhausting, yet despite my errors I relished the entertainment and the laughing and cajoling from the lords and ladies of Bohemia. Certainly, some things are as pleasurable in any country and I felt quite at home by the end of the night.

We hunted together the following day. The forests already turning an embarrassed shade of amber, and here I waited expectantly for the secrets to be divulged. Unfortunately, no such luck. His blue eyes tease me, and I am never relaxed in his company, but if he does not attend a ball or a hunt, I enjoy myself less! I do not understand what has happened. I am confused and wait impatiently to find out more.

D. S.

I have not known what to write after I opened the second letter from my 'most courteous servant'. It was nothing so shocking that my speech was lost, but rather it was diminished to a humbled whisper and I needed the time to think of an eloquent response before throwing myself into an egotistical tirade (which we all know I am prone to do).

This is not the first time I have been pursued by an anonymous stranger, (already the ego appears) and I know my reputation often precedes me, so this contact shouldn't be of any surprise. Nevertheless, as far as I am aware, this 'most courteous servant' knows more about me than I thought possible; especially as he resides here in deepest Bohemia. I dread to think how my reputation has scaled an entire continent!

It worries me slightly that he seems to have the entire measure of me, whereas I know nothing, save that he employs rather unrefined characters to deliver his messages. His latest letter left a bitter sweet taste in my mouth:

I'm sure there is a polite way to refuse attending a ball in my honour, but I am torn between disappearing for the weekend (which is only four days away now!) or doing as I'm told ~ but only because my curiosity will no doubt get the better of me. Being overtly polite to someone who has openly called me 'condescending' is not something I can handle. There is no being 'the bigger person' when I may as well give this gentleman his dues and act accordingly. If that's what he wants and who he is expecting, then who am I to deny him? Especially as I am so generous.

Sarcasm is my only saving grace against an egotistical tirade, and I know I am still not doing myself any justice by proving my flaws. I know my flaws. I do not need them pointed out to me by a man I have never met. There is hardly any time to pen a reply to his letter. So I shall just wait for the weekend and make a spur of the moment decision. 



D. S.

A fortnight is completely unacceptable to wait for a repose from a gentleman. I had originally decided to write another letter admonishing the 'most courteous servant' (what a farce) for his behaviour. But no sooner had I wet the tip of my quill did I hear a commotion in the courtyard. Not only was it my duty to get involved and make sure no harm came to my household, my curiosity is not something I find easy to quell.

Rushing down the stairs to the unexpected turbulence I was thrust into the arms of none other than the unruly messenger who had delivered the principal letter all those weeks ago. I couldn't quite believe my misfortune and I was not held in his arms for long before pulling myself away. Affronted, I demanded to know what was his purpose in disturbing my home, and I dared to say that it was not the first time he showed a lack of etiquette in my presence, nor would it happen a third time.

When the messenger did nought but grin and bow sarcastically, I stormed away from the courtyard, content in the knowledge that my household were safe. They had witnessed the entire event most silently, and I could only imagine what would be whispered in the kitchens. The messenger on the other hand did not take the hint of my absence and followed me through the corridors. He did not even call my name nor ask me to stop before he grabbed my wrist. 

Only at the contact of skin on skin did he refer to me properly as 'Your Grace' and I felt him slip a parchment from the inside of his coat in between my fingers. I turned, words had left my tongue and I looked at the messenger intently for the first time. He had dark sandy hair and blue eyes that made no apologies for his actions, a slight stubble engulfed his chin and he was taller than me, but not by much. It took me a moment to realise the messenger was studying my face as intently and I was perturbed by his confidence.

I asked him to explain himself, to which the reply was 'my lord gave me strict instructions to deliver this letter to your hands personally.'

Thankfully he wasn't quite rude enough to shrug, but the glint in his eyes told me to question no further. He bowed appropriately and left me with the belated response. His touch still resonating on my fingers, the warmth of his chest still enveloping the letter. 



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.

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.

I am home. Or rather my surrogate home in the City of Sails, the Antipodes. Not the Shire. Not yet, though only a few short days separate me from my final departure and my homecoming.


My sojourn South has ended, as have the fleeting fornications with the gentleman from the Promised Land and the Singer. It was a torrid goodbye, passions were riled, and as I watched the landscapes disappear behind me, I let the tears trickle down my face; I do not know when I shall see those dear to me again. 

But there was little time to reflect on the last few days activities as I barely had the time to change before getting ready for my farewell Ball. I hate hurrying more than I despise waiting, so of course I was in the least amusing mood, and I couldn't think straight. I had a guilty feeling and I couldn't think why...


It was wonderful to see everyone of course, though there were a few notably missing faces, and if I hadn't been so exhausted I'd have revelled in the attention. But as it were, my energy had been sapped from a long night of loving, and my mind was elsewhere as I waited to see the Captain. Only to be bitterly disappointed.


The brunette's friend, one whom I've held dear to me these past months but whose advances have been rejected, made it clear to me why the Captain was not around and gave voice to my guilty emotions. Apparently, the previous night, while I was still in a lieu with the philosophers I'd couriered two identical notes of intimate longing to BOTH the Captain and the brunette's friend. Embarrassing is an understatement.

What makes it worse is that I can't ignore the feelings... I love the Captain but I have no more love to give him. I'm sure he could argue that I've given him nothing, but I gave him the opportunity to change me and he rejected it. But the friend of the brunette? I have stayed with him a few times, and always argued the case that because he is friends with the Captain it would be wrong... It seems that when I am intoxicated I'd rather satisfy the longing of the flesh than of the heart. But that doesn't mean to say I don't care about him. It's just different with the Captain, though clearly my body disagrees and only wants carnal satisfaction.


Indeed I believe even the brunette is not impressed with my latest behaviour. She knows about the gentleman from the Promised Land, she is also not surprised by the singer joining us for she too has made use of more Sapphic love. But she gave me the most disapproving look after I fell into the arms of the nameless paramour after her friend gave me the news of my humiliating mistake.


That was not planned, it just happened and I don't regret waking up next to him... I do regret the reason why however. I do regret everything to do with the Captain, except for the good. Though it is heavily weighted against me. I regret that it's taking me longer to change and be the person I want to be, rather than the person I am.


I don't want to leave. I know that much. Five days. Can I earn forgiveness in only five days when some people aren't forgiven for a lifetime? 





D. S.

Considering my plans were to stay with friends further south just for the weekend, it brings a rue smile to my face to write this from the same bed I have been sleeping in for over a week! Or rather one of the two beds that I have been making my own.


I couldn't leave after just a weekend, the sun was shining and as always there is much to be done! We have travelled around the glorious landscapes and seen some of the most fascinating aspects of nature. The Antipodes are forever changing, as if they are not quite settled. It isn't anything like my Shire, which is cool and calm, like an old man staring out of the window of his home, looking down at everything he owns, content with his decisions. 

Not too long ago, maybe three days, before our travelling, a singer was welcomed into our home, to entertain us as we talked of many things. The friends I have here are from all over the world, none of whom would fit in with my friends in the City of Sails, and possibly not even in the Shire. They are philosophers, learned people from the Promised Land, from the Polynesian Islands and even from Africa, and I adore spending time with them, listening to their ideas and combining our cultures.


The night the singer arrived however, their was more than just a combining of cultures... Wine was drunk, though not so much that we didn't know what we were doing. Only enough to gain courage. One of the gentlemen from the Promised Land has the most beautiful eyes but though we are close he does not court nor try to impress me the way that most men do. He is more matter of fact, and does not question my decisions. 


I nearly had to question him though when he brought the singer into our boudoir, and proceeded to undress her even before I had consented. But before I could say anything the singer had started undressing me with ease, and the gentleman whispered in my ear, 'this is clearly not your first time...'


How he knew I can only guess, but we have talked of many things, sexuality included. I feel safe when I'm with my philosophers for they do not judge, they only expect you to accept the consequences of your decision.


I am only here for a few more days, I am making the most of the time that I have. There is nothing that I regret... At the moment. Nothing more. 





D. S.

I have sojourned south for the weekend to clear my head and say goodbye to some dear friends before my travels to the Shire begin. I am trying to make the most of the fortnight I have left here in the Antipodes, though it is difficult to know where to start.


The brunette has organised a soirée in my honour for my nearest and dearest, and too a ball is to be thrown next weekend. With my departure plaguing my mind I can't help but think of my mistakes on this side of the world... My entire friendship, or relationship if you will, with the Captain was the highlight of my heart's endeavours, rocked only by my insecurities and inability to not be the centre of attention.


The brunette's cousin, the minx, invited me over to hers under the ruse that she was afraid to  spend the night alone. I was more than willing to spend time with her and hear all about her secret love, and whisper of the English gentleman's demise, but she had other plans! I arrived with baked goods in tow, only to find that a third glass had been set upon the table! There is no way I can be mad at her, I know she did it with my best interest at heart, but when it comes to the Captain, I need the warning!


However, the three of us had a lovely evening talking and laughing, and it truly pains me to think that these are the last days I will get to spend with them!


In fact I heard something about the English gentleman that made me pause for thought... Apparently soon after I had broken off our relationship he bumped into the brunette's cousin and while inebriated he couldn't but help talk about me, and how much he missed me and regretted all the ills that had passed! I was most surprised when she told me of this, and though I think nothing of it for I know we were not meant to be, it's interesting to hear... In vino veritas...


I have made mistakes yes, I have regret for possibly the first time in my life. I can't change the situation and sometimes I don't know whether I'd really ever appreciate my love for the Captain if I hadn't lost him through a fault of my own...





D. S.

To think that months have turned into weeks, and soon I shall only have days left in the Antipodes...

My entire time here no longer seems tangible. I have few concrete relationships to hold on to, and even the closest friendships I have forged shall no doubt unravel with the distance. I'm referring to the brunette as much as the Captain, for these are the two whom I shall miss the most. Until I have made a decision of where my future belongs, I do not know when I shall return to the Antipodes, making the farewell even more poignant. 

The entire situation makes me acknowledge the sense in the Captain's earnest plea for friendship; my heart would not have the time to heal after letting him back in with such zest. And I don't think he could ever trust me again, not properly, so it would take the little time we could have had to get to a more physical relationship...

Never mind. I can't dwell on what has been done.

Death makes us realise what matters in life. My family. My friends. And a belief in the life I want to lead. As hedonistic as I have let myself be, I know I want more to life. The two emotions duel in my heart as I struggle with the inner turmoil. 

How can one not live in the present when all our days are numbered? Yet, how can one not plan for the future, make provisions and listen to our urging hearts who leap towards the idea of a partner and a family?

There was an incident with a friend over the weekend that involved the breaking of the law, and that too helped to clarify what I do and don't want in life... It was nothing too outlandish, no one was murdered. But I was affronted at the entire situation and had to use my guile to get my friend out of trouble - trouble that I hadn't even known he was in - and of course use my stature to make sure no feathers were ruffled.


I wouldn't have cared if the incident had not occurred at the most untimely of moments, and I was left feeling somewhat frustrated! I suppose I should have learnt my lesson! I am finding life a little harder at the moment, I even miss the company of the English gentleman (though probably more for his skill in the bedroom than conversation), and crave the solid friendships of the Shire.


I would like a meaningful relationship... Is that too much to ask for?





D. S.