Just a few hours shy of a month have I spent in the Orient, and though the first few days were a struggle as I acclimatised to the weather, the food, and the culture, I now feel incredibly comfortable here, despite being so far away from home. 

Where even is home?

If home is supposed to be where your heart is, then I suppose I am always at home, because I love my life and am constantly overwhelmed by the gratitude that fills my heart as I realise how fortunate I am to have these experiences and to share them with the most wonderful of friends. 

My days have been inundated with new learning as I listen to the wisdom of children. My evenings I spend soaking up the atmosphere of a city that has so much to offer in spite of its newness. Such a young city leads to many mistakes and misdemeanors of its own... And it's sometimes difficult to keep your head above water when you are the newest addition to a new city. 

Being tall and blonde may have its advantages, but it does mean that it is rather difficult to be inconspicuous, and my personality too, seems to have its drawbacks here in the Far East; this is a place where it is more favourable to be discrete and distinguished instead of ostentatious and gregarious. And as my past has shown, I do rather enjoy being the centre of attention. 

I still have much to learn, and with every day my confidence grows. 

There have been rumours that the Duke of Albany has also travelled East, and though we are on pleasant terms, I do not know if I am quite ready to see him on this side of the world. Especially when there are the most delectable men and women on this side of the world who think nothing of my caresses and knowing looks, but rather encourage my more licentious behaviour.

It's another country that I am letting crawl its way into my heart and I willingly call it home. 



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.

A weekend alone is not quite what I had in mind, however it is a blessing to have a little solitude to get everything in perspective. Why does life have a habit of pulling the rug from under you, without giving so much as a whiff of explanation?

I am well versed in the art of hyperbole, but that doesn't mean the smaller changes don't have a large impact. 

The Summer has been decided and I am to return to the Shire instead of Brighthelmstone, to take a more responsible role as governess, patron? I'm not sure what to call myself other than Duchess. I may be rather unconventional, with my choices of travel and governing and teaching and learning but I wouldn't change my life for anything.

Though the Summer has been put in my diary, the months that succeed it are more than questionable. The Duke and I have continued our conversation and have come the conclusion of 'Que Sera Sera.' Normally I thrive at the unknown, I enjoy spontaneity and recklessness (for want of a better word!) however, I cannot help but feel that I shall miss out on some opportunities if I don't go out and get them!

I'm not even sure what opportunities I am referring to, only that this perpetual state of indecision doesn't agree with me. 

If it were up to me, after my Summer in the Shire, I would call another country my home. Giving my heart to an unfamiliar landscape, discover a culture that I am currently unaware of and learn another language that is foreign to my ear. It is what I have done since leaving the Northern counties the first time round and it seems that old habits die hard.

But not if I have to choose between travelling and the Duke... That is a decision I hope never have to make.



D. S. 

Another sunny day in the Shire, but rather than waking up next to my beloved Duke of Albany, I am reclining on the chaise long of a Lady of the Shire. The same Lady who incidentally visited me in the lands of Bohemia many months ago. The Duke is having a weekend to himself - this is no philosophical retreat for some 'soul searching', nor is he reconsidering his imminent conjuncture with myself - rather he is making the most of his time with other Gentlemen and Lords as they prattle away after too much whiskey. 

I made the wise decision not to question his motives, and the wiser move to vacate myself from the premises. I can only imagine the drunken horror the men will give inflicted on themselves and I do not want to bear witness to it. 

Instead the Lady of the Shire and I have conversed merrily about the changing times, politics and love affairs , as well as a few more sordid details that I will keep secret. It is so refreshing to spend time with someone whose friendship spans over a decade so there can be no misgivings about who we are as people. I suppose this must be what it is like to have a sister. 

I have heard from my newer acquaintances - the Irish princesses are home safely and send their regards from across the Irish Sea. I still laugh at the thought of the scandal that erupted out of Brighthelmstone but I wouldn't have exchanged it for all the world. In all honesty I am missing those volatile vixens most keenly and hope to see them again before the year is out. 

But for today I intend to mark the most of my freedom and jaunt around the more familiar streets of my home town. 

D. S.  

My life seems to revolve around never ending endings - another chapter of my life has come to an end and this one is harder to say goodbye to than the last, despite being a much shorter endeavour. 

Brighthelmstone is coming to an end, and all today shall be an echo of heart-felt farewells. My Irish princesses who have retaught me that sometimes being a little bit scandalous is only to be expected, are leaving this evening and it puts a lump in my throat to think the rest of the summer shall be a little less rambunctious. One of the three Irish princesses certainly made her reputation known ~ only good things of course ~ but it is always a pleasurable experience to enjoy similar passions with someone new.

The Duke and I are packed once again for the move to the northern counties, but first we have a few weeks to spend in the Shire with my family. Well, what's left of my family. I do not want to divulge in stories that are not mine to share, but something tells me that my family has disbanded for once and for all. Continents further afield have beckoned my mother and she has listened to their call, while my father flounders after being left behind. 

Who knows? But it means these next few weeks before the Great Move North, will be no less than interesting.

Belle was supposed to celebrate her birthday yesterday but instead she spent the entire day trapped in a carriage on her way to visit us on the coast. We fully hope to make the most of the time we have together this weekend and spoil her rotten. After the last few years that she has endured she needs more than a pick me up ~ she needs her best friends pampering her and I hope we can do that once all the goodbyes have been said.

I shall dry my eyes before I allow the tears to spill down my face.

It is not goodbye, but au revoir.



D. S.

Though it is an early morning for me and the sun is already blazing through the trees, my eyes are blurred and I can't stop myself from yawning. This summer is taking its toll on my sleeping habits, and I long for the time when I can catch up on six weeks worth of abandoned sleep. 

Don't think I am complaining, for I adore the work I do. It is most fulfilling though I never much thought of giving myself over as a compassionate and dedicated human being. But it shows that even in so little time as one year, things (and people) can change. 

At the end of the week, the Duke of Albany and I have requested to take some time off together and disappear to our future home in the Northern counties. It will be the first time I have seen the home he has chosen for us to start our future together, and though I know I will not be living in it while I work for my Royal charge, the prospect is enough to make me grin.

He truly makes me so very happy, and I cannot get enough of him.

Brighthelmstone is having its usual scandals, however this time I am not in the middle of them. The Irish princesses are loving life and enjoying it to the full (who can blame them?) and it makes me laugh to hear the rumours ~ though which are true or not does not matter. Scandal is only as good as the next scandal.

I have also tried to encourage Bell to come and join in the summer festivities even though her place has been rescinded. Of course she feels a little bit spurned, but she throws around the word 'disappointed' as opposed to 'outraged'. I'm hoping the Duke and I together can convince her to spend some time with us frolicking in the English Channel. Nevertheless, it will be delightful to see her again, and even more incredible to begin to imagine the life the Duke of Albany and I will have together.

Though I am tired, this is the thought that keeps me going. 



D. S.

A day of travelling leads me to my old home in the Northern counties, no less than reunited with my curly-haired soul mate - Belle. She is to guide me through my instructions for my new role which begins in September and we have two days to make the most of the time we have together, because the unthinkable has happened... The situation down in Brighthelmstone where the Duke of Albany and I are spending our summer days has reached it's full capacity and can no longer host Belle and her retinue. 

I only found out two days ago and have yet to recover from the disappointment, though it does make the next two days all the more sweet and precious. I attempted to pull strings, begging and pleading are not beneath me when it comes to the welfare of my friends, but it seems my time away in Bohemia has meant my reputation and sway has dwindled. 

It's not only I who have suffered in this change of circumstances; the Duke himself was saddened by the series of events and I know the Irish Lady of Corcaigh and the governess were none best pleased. I do hope we manage to spend some time together this summer before my life gets taken over by my new role. 

To think that six months have past since my interview in January, and I am only two months away from starting?! I can barely fathom the notion. But to have the Duke by my side keeps me as happy as I could be, and I am only excited by the prospect of our future together, not daunted. 

D. S. 

My first week of being a whole year older was quite the success, and I only hope it means to continue that way! Despite my actual birthdays sedate air, once Jeeves and I began travelling to Polska with our red-headed, enigmatic Irish lady, things took a turn for the more wonderful and spectacular. 

Our first night on the town began in the city of a hundred spires, and we danced and we drank until the wee hours of the morn. Something I fear I do not do as often as I used to! Already the hangover was a force to be reckoned with, though travelling with such a headache is not ideal, the three of us soon opened our eyes to the sights and sounds of our new home for the weekend.

Breslau, Wroclaw, Vratislava. To me the city had more names than I could pronounce, but that only added to the mystery. We three were anonymous in the city, not wanting to spread my reputation further across the Continent than I already have, and we lodged with the kindest of Innkeepers. 

Music could be heard all through the city and we were fortunate enough to literally  stumble upon one of the city's most renowned musical concerts. We were astounded by the talent that Polska had to offer and it was most liberating to walk through the cobbled streets anonymously. 

The sights of the city are vast and impressive; brass gnomes litter the walkways, though they sometimes have more allusive hiding places. The buildings were sublime and the islands were untouched by any extensive architecture. The cathedrals too were not overpowering and it was quite the sight to view the entire city from one of the towers. 

Though we too frequented a beer festival, which had its own ups and downs, the highlight of the entire journey would have to be the incredible fountain display we witnessed, which is near the city's menagerie. The music, such as Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev gave way to dancing fountains as the sprays and water jets pirouetted against a jet black sky. To say it is mesmerising is not enough, the technological prowess of the engineers that are able to create the performance should be knighted. It's a place I would highly recommend. 

But once again I am back in the lazy hills of Bohemia and once again I am packing for another journey. This time a quick jaunt across the English Channel to rendez vous with my darling Duke. Apparently he has something he wishes to tell me, and he wants to do it face to face, rather than via letter. I have to admit, my heart is in my mouth, though I cannot for the life of me imagine what it is he wants to say!

For now, I must rest. My weekend in Polska was more than entertaining, but it too has taken its toll on my exhausted body (and crushed finger, which is a long and uninteresting story). Sleep beckons for I have not yet recovered. 



D. S.

Nearly every time I write these days I am shocked by how much time has slipped away, and this shall not vary from the constant theme. 

I am to turn twenty-four on Monday and I can hardly fathom the notion!

Not only does it make my unmarried status more noticeable as I constantly break against convention, but it also means that I am that much closer to the end of my days in Bohemia. Neither of which I had given much thought to; other than as abstract futures that were not yet upon me.

Nevertheless, I shall welcome my birthday with open arms (for who doesn't love an occasion whose sole purpose is to be celebrated?)  and look forward to the next step in my life... Though my choice to return to the convent in Brighthelmstone is nothing particularly new. At least I shall have the Duke of Albany by my side and Belle shall no doubt intervene in our many arguments.

The summer, I'm hoping, will give me the opportunity to spend some time with the Duke before I take my place in the Northern counties as a lady-in-waiting to my Royal Charge. Though the Duke has made promises to move across the Continent with me, I am not naive enough to assume our lives will be in constant contact what with our respective duties. 

Bohemia has a wonderfully wild sense of spring, with festivals and fêtes galore, but it only makes me miss my wonderful Duke that little bit more. I feel he should be spending this time here with me, but of course it is FOR me that he is even in my beloved England. So I do not, nor cannot, mention my longing for him in my letters, though that is all I wish to do. But a lamenting letter never did anyone any good.

I do have plans to travel around the Continent myself a little more before I return home. Polska calls my name and I look forward to a week of exploring for my birthday. It is not a country I know anything about, so I shall spend this week doing some much needed research. Anywhere new makes me happy, if only I had the Duke by my side to enjoy my adventures with me.



D. S. 

I hope I can be forgiven. I know I said that travel and writing are at the forefront of my mind and my ambitions, but love has taken me along a more scenic route and I am once again back in my glorious Shire in the arms of my Duke of Albany. It is only because of the holidays in Bohemia that I have the time to cross the Continent and it is so worth it.

The Duke has been playing an interesting game here in the Shire. He is winning over my friends and family, making a name for himself. He has an entrepreneurial spirit and uses his position, my reputation and our combined knowledge to his full advantage. 

We have finally broached the subject of my inevitable move North to be a Lady-in-Waiting to a Royal charge, whether or not he will join me, and under what terms. 

It seems he is keen to stay in England. The Duke of Albany may have a dynasty of his own in Bohemia and that is of course where his main responsibilities lie, but he has the fortune of cousins, aunts and uncles at his disposal. All of whom are more than capable of taking care of his duties, and willing too, mainly to keep their beloved Duke happy.

He was not surprised by the question I asked, and I know he enjoyed torturing me as I struggled to find the words to ask this man to move his entire life across land and sea, for me. The Duke has not given me a decision, but I did ask him to give it careful consideration. Who knows what scandals may erupt as we are not betrothed and I do not have the same ability to ignore gossip and hurtful jibes that I once did. 

Nevertheless, I do not want us to have to bend to the iron will of convention. For now, an equal appreciation of our carnal appetites and whispered nothings are all that I can hope for with this Duke. We have come so far since our first meeting when he disguised his true self from me, and though neither of us are afraid to speak our minds and we still have some rather volatile arguments, our relationship is built on a firm understanding of one another. There are no expectations, despite the love we have allowed ourselves to feel for one another. 

The Duke of Albany has until Valentine's Day to make up his mind. I shall be long gone by then and in the safety of distance can I hear the words he has not yet said. Oh Valentine's day. How the years have changed how I feel every time this day occurs. I still wish I was as young and carefree as the days I would write inspirational notes to the masses.

To give the Duke some time to think I am off to visit the Duchess of Tuthershire in the Capital. It has been nearly two years since we last laid eyes on each other and I can't believe either of us allowed that to happen! I am so looking forward to an evening of red wine and gossip, like we used to. It really is the little things in life that make me so happy.



D. S.

I'm home. The Shire beckoned and I cannot ignore the familiar sound of my name as I am called to partake in the Christmas festivities. However, this time I do not return alone. 

The Duke of Albany has kept his word and spent the last two days journeying with me back to the land that I call my home. We squabbled like children over the most trivial decisions and I do think it's because we are both slightly nervous about how he will be received. He is a legend in his own right as the grandchild of Bohemia, but in the Shire we care less about your position and more about your heart and soul.

We left Bohemia in the most traditional of manners, following ancient protocol, only after we'd delivered the painting the Duke had commissioned of myself to his private chambers. He claims the likeness is uncanny, and I have to admit the artist is far better than her reputation give her credit, though her attitude is still somewhat to be desired. 

Aphrodite incarnate. It is a play on the Duke's carnal appetite towards me and though I blush at my state of undress in the painting, I cannot help but be a little proud of the work of art.

The Duke and I have been holed up for long enough, and today we shall arrive as is proper, receiving a welcome fit for the Dukes and Duchesses we are. Of course my mother shall be there, and I am interested to know how she shall react to the Duke... He can be charming but I do hope he doesn't antagonise her! 

I shall let you know how the whole event fares, but wish me luck, a foreign Duke is making his home in the Shire.



D. S.

To accept the offer of having a painting commissioned of myself for another is no small thing. I know it will be of much talk once it is revealed, especially as it has been decided that we shall honour the gods of the Ancient realms, and I only pray that I can do justice to the beauty of Aphrodite. The artist must have a talent greater than the looks I have been blessed with so as not to anger nor misrepresent in any way.

The Duke has left me in the artist's capable hands, but I have to admit I was more than surprised when I first laid eyes on the creative candidate. The Duke of Albany failed to mention that the artist is no man, but rather a woman of great beauty in her own right ~ no wonder she pays such care and consideration to the female form. I am glad that I saw some of her work before it was revealed that she was a woman. I have heard of no respectable lady having the fortune to be blessed with the talent of more than a hand for drawing, but the Duke assured me that we do not swim in the same circles. What he meant by that, I cannot even begin to fathom.

The artist was dressed most modestly and I felt like a peacock on display as I waited for her arrival in all my finery. She paid no heed to the jewels that adorned my throat, and she meticulously pulled the rings off my fingers, the precious gems glinting in the winter sunlight, but even they could not catch her attention. It wasn't until I stood there in front of her in nothing but the body that God has blessed me with that she began to show any interest in me at all.

She walked around me, feeling the contours of my body, and I shivered beneath her touch, grateful for the roaring fire to keep me warm. She made a few notes and a few pencil sketches while I waited for her to finish her appraisal. Never have I felt so naked before another human being, not even after the scandal in Iberia, and I know that sounds silly, but the artist scrutinized me with an eye for detail that I could not ignore. 

Not many words were shared between the two of us and it is not often that I find myself speechless. I wonder what the relationship is between the Duke of Albany and this artist, how did they meet, where did she come from, what is her story? I shall have to interrogate him when I next lay eyes on him. 

I now have a weekend in the City of a Hundred Spires to look forward to before the artist and I meet again for our first sitting. We have a busy week ahead of us as the Duke and I continue to make arrangements for the Christmas tidings. Belle has invited us to her abode in the Northern Counties to see in the New Year, and I heard the wondrous news that the Irish lady of Corcaigh shall also be joining us. 

How much can change in a year. As always I get a little pensive over the winter months, but truly I am content. Even though this artist is a little disconcerting...



D. S.

Aphrodite. I taste the name on my lips. The Greek goddess of love and beauty. I know I should be more than flattered at the insinuations the Duke of Albany is making, and I am the first to thank him for his kind gesture. 

But the thought of having a painting of myself in the flesh, in the nothing but the flesh, makes the colour in my cheeks rise and I worry about the effect it will have on my reputation. If the Duke of Albany, this grandchild of Bohemia, heard about me across the Continent, what would be said if I were to accept his offer and drop my clothes to be painted in all my naked glory?

He is bold with his movements and has not let the matter rest since he arrived not two days ago. I adore his firm touch; tilting my head and arching my back as he whispers my name in my ear, but he presses me for an answer when I have not yet decided. 

Later

Decisions are not my forte and that is hardly the first time I have said that. I have not been coerced to make my choice before I was ready, but rather the Duke showed me some of the artist's work. He is truly talented, and he shows great love for the female form. The Duke and I have discussed what is appropriate attire for a woman of my stature, and he assures me that I may wear as many or as few garments as I please. 

The commissioning of the painting will only begin once the artist and I have met and considered at length what my stance shall be, what backdrop I want behind me and what I want to represent in this painting. I have to admit that now I have accepted the Duke's offer I am rather excited at the prospect. Of course I shall have a few of my handmaids with me for propriety's sake, but should the Duke care to observe one of the sittings, it cannot be faulted to have just the one other presence, can it?

I have thanked the Duke in the only way I know how, and though he was due to leave this evening, it seems he longs to appreciate my gratitude for a while longer. This is not a decision I believe I'll regret. 

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.

The weekend is nigh and I have but a few hours to make my decision. All week I have been fretting about what course of action to take, and as the sunrise draws nearer I am still no closer to making a decision.

Secretly I long to meet this courtier, I want to know exactly who I am dealing with, but I feel that not only does he have the upper hand, but the whole body and soul to his advantage. No doubt it shall be the messenger who will single-handedly deliver me to this 'most courteous servant' and I dread the smirk that shall sit amongst his stubbled chin as I am carted like a peasant through the realm of Bohemia.

I am never summoned. I am invited (and I know the catalyst to this whole fiasco was an invitation) but my hand is never forced to make a decision. I am a Duchess and I do not care for some foreign courtier to treat me like anything lesser. This is my main argument against appearing later today. It is all very romantic to be whisked away by an anonymous suitor if that is what you want. To be ordered around after insults that I refuse to repeat is not only beneath me as a Duchess, but beneath any woman. It is my pride that I am finding more difficult to quell than my curiosity...

Later

I packed a suitcase and was prepared to leave. But now it seems I keep finding excuses to stay. My servants have asked what time will the messenger be arriving to take me to the Ball, and Jeeves has questioned whether or not I will be returning home this weekend (and even more quietly he whispered if I wanted accompanying).

Butterflies are making appearances in my stomach and I cannot for the life of me keep still and concentrate on anything else. I feel foolhardy and naive, I have no expectations, yet I do keep rehearsing an indignant speech in my head. The messenger should arrive this evening, so I have nothing more to do than wait.

A lack of patience is another one of my flaws to add to the list.



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.

I once again hold the unopened letter in my hand. For one week precisely it has plagued my mind, resting on my chiffonier next to my hair brush. I am reminded of the incident most keenly, both morning and eve, but I have not had the inclination to open it.

Not yet.

I have written myself to Belle for her opinion of the matter. I know she shall be frustrated that I have not yet torn through the blood red seal and absorbed the ink on the page through my eyes, but I need a second opinion. As much as I revel in my own company here in Bohemia, those I speak to have only broken English to converse with and my responses in their language cause impolite convulsions as I am far from fluent. So I need Belle to give me her most unapologetic counsel.

In fact, as I sit with this letter addressed to "The most splendid, illustrious, serene and eminent lady of pleasure" I am waiting for my own post master to return from his weekly rendez vous in the town centre. Belle is always concise with her hasty replies and I hope she has not disappointed.

Later

Belle always delivers, a most reliable friend. I ripped open her letter without so much as a second thought, relishing in the familiar penmanship of one so dear. And she never disappoints. She admonished me for wasting an entire week before opening the letter from the utterly impertinent messenger and implores me to copy it word for word so she may be included in its untimely exposition.

It was all the gentle shoving I needed to gain the courage to tear past the blood red seal and feast upon its contents. The previously anonymous letter as follows:

How can one say no to a Ball in their own honour? Surely though, there is a lack of etiquette in not signing a name? I have many questions, but first I shall peruse my calendar for a suitable day for this Ball.

D. S.

Hedonism is judged of poor repute by most in society, an over-indulgent, self-imposed, ill-disciplined waste of time. Personally, I don't quite see what's wrong with living for the moment, it doesn't have to be taken to extremes, but I can't understand the necessity to worry about the future when we have very little control over our lives anyway!

Last weekend was wonderful; dancing until the early hours of the morn, challenging our new found neighbours to deplorable acts, sharing stolen moments that cannot yet be repeated and laughing mercilessly at nothing in particular.

The soirée was a little more exuberant than the Duke's sister and I had first intended, but isn't that always the way? It is nigh on impossible to have a 'quiet night in' with friends!! Or at least with the friends that we have!

Our neighbours have easily been included in this circle of familiarity; a Lord and Lady live the closest, and they are somewhat more sensible than the Duke's sister and myself, but I did catch a glimpse of mischief in their eyes as they petted their enormous hound. A gorgeous bitch from the Continent, she contrasts slightly with the smaller pooches I am used to, but she is full of the joy of life, and what's there not to like about that?

Indeed all our guests were most entertaining, regaling tales of the Shire that even I was unaware of! It seems there is scandal wherever you may look, most of it unfounded, but the rumours, gossip and lies are easily spread, like a virus with no purpose other than a cause for destruction.

I feel those who fall in its path for I remember what it is like (after the incident with the Irish cream...) to have rumours follow you; and I can imagine it is only made worse when there is no substance to the truth of it! Those who are pathetic enough to make up rumours surely need to find something more constructive to do with their over active imaginations?

But I shall not dwindle on about untruths for there is something FAR more exciting to talk about...

An invitation to a Christmas Ball!

Who am I to refuse the delectable sights and sounds of the Shire when my name is printed upon gilt paper, tempting and taunting me to go and enjoy myself? Of course I shall attend, I look forward to the company of a blonde stranger from last weekend, and I can't wait to dress up for the festive season.

Indeed I intend to travel to the City of Dreaming Spires today to find a suitable dress and hopefully spend some time with the Court Jester and Armiger!

D. S.

Recently I've had days merge into mere times passing, never having any individual significance of their own; however these past few days have been more than memorable.

As a Patroness I have acquired a certain esteem and prestige that I look to maintain, and the next step was to acquire a household of my own standing without the help of my parents!

Fortunately there was another of my stature who was in a similar predicament; namely the Duke's sister. Together we decided that we would be able to conquer the mounting bureaucracy and effectively trivial but numerous tribulations, instead of fighting on our own.

Of course we were correct. Within days we had found the perfect abode to house the two of us, and only after the papers were signed and the servants unpacked our belongings, were we, or rather, are we able to spend our first night together!

Our aesthetic tastes may differ somewhat, but our personalities are more alike than the Duke's sister would care to admit, and I revel in the thought of the first soirée de maison that we can throw for all our friends and family.

To live without a chaperone, without a husband or family... That is quite the step, especially someone of my reputation (or perhaps because of my reputation) but the Duke's sister has given me the chance to explore my non-existent sensibilities and deep sensualities that I had never before even considered. Somehow, she has managed to conserve her own respectability (despite her behaviour) so she is classed far beneath my level of notoriety, (or is that above?).

Nonetheless, the two of us have a clean slate to start from and I look forward to the next journey of my life immensely.

D. S.