Beatrice Darfour dismounted her black horse elegantly and repositioned her hat with an extended gloved hand. She pulled her neck up to full height. The stable hand took her mount away and she sauntered into her house, removing her cape and handing it to a maid who walked away to hang it up to dry. Beatrice called for a hot brew and took her hat off, passing that to another maid absent-mindedly. She looked around the large hall and strode into the sitting area. She placed herself delicately onto a seat and received the decanter of hot brandy passed to her.

Pouring herself out a generous cup, she pressed the glass against her lips and took a sip. She got up and walked across to the seat by the blazing fire with grace. This day is such a gloomy day. 'Tis unfortunate. She thought glumly to herself.

“My Lady.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice at the door. It was a maid. “My Lady, there is a letter for you.” Beatrice rose and walked to her, taking the letter from her hand.

“Thank you.” She said with a slight inclination of her head. She pulled the seal apart and read the letter. From a ‘suitor’. She sighed; would they never leave her to her peace? She skim-read the letter, reading most words, but taking in few. ’And so I write, fair Lady, to ask for but an eve in your presence…’ Oh, such grief. Why are such things entreated unto me? She sighed once again, walked across to her chaise longe and sat down on it, retrieving her glass of hot brandy. She took another draught. She lifted the sides of her blood red lips in a contented smile. She pushed back a small lock of dark brown hair behind her ear with an elegant hand. Her green eyes continued to flit over the piece of paper as she sipped again, savouring the brandy and the way it warmed her throat with both the substance and the heat.

One word of his - Mr. Kingsley - caught her fancy. "...a happy tale it would be if you alone were to read this letter and imagine the eroticas undoubtedly set in place for us..." She muttered aloud. She smiled a bit. Eroticas?! It tickled her slightly pink as the blood rushed to her cheeks with a coy smile. She lifted her eyes from the words and stared at the fire, unbelieving. She looked back. ...imagine the eroticas... She smiled a cheeky smile and carried on skipping the words until she reached a suggested date. She bit her lip. If she were to accept, these things 'undoubtedly' set in store for them would prove an interesting tale at least. ...There. 22nd October this year. That's in one week! She thought, slightly shocked at the lack of time for any arrangements.

"Frances!" She called, still shocked, but anticipating as well. When her choice maid came to the door with a knock and a peep around the corner, she beckoned her in. "Frances, do I have anything set for 6:30pm on the 22nd?" She asked, having now regained her composure. She wouldn't have the maids gossiping that she was getting over-excited at a letter from the suitor. Rumours and that sort of thing.

"Yes m'Lady. You're set to visit...Mr. Robertson, m'Lady." She said, standing neatly in front of her. Beatrice's happiness popped and deflated with the air of a wilting flower. She showed nothing of the sort though, of course.

"Thank you, Frances." Frances curtseyed and walked out. Beatrice fell back in her chair in a small show of irritance. However, she straightened herself out and sat up again. If I wrote to Mr. Kingsley, I could tell him that I am unavailable that evening...and instead arrange for...the 29th? She racked her brain. No, nothing set. Then, I could visit Mr. Robertson, as planned, and appear social towards Mr. Kingsley, but still visit him. She smiled. Sometimes her brilliance surprised even herself.