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Published:
2016-11-09
Updated:
2023-08-30
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21/?
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What I Call A Universally Acknowledged Truth

Chapter 11: Mr Preston’s Diary

Chapter Text

I am in a wretched state. Everything had been unfolding better than I dared hope, and now I have this mess on my hands!

But I must explain from the beginning.  Following “The Incident”, my move to Surrey became a matter of some urgency.  I have since settled here in earnest, finding my new surroundings more than adequate. While I have been focused on restoring the inn, the remaining bulk of my attention has been taken up by my dear new neighbours, who I have grown extremely fond of.

The mistress of the house is a force to be reckoned with, but the daughter, Miss Hartford, is unlike any lady I have ever met.  Alas, I know we cannot be, and yet, I cannot help but hope.... Her playful nature is a joy to behold, and the way her eyes brighten when she is happy lifts my spirits in every way.

The Hartfords held a ball last evening as a welcome for their niece, a delightfully flighty girl from the London set.

The evening was going swimmingly, when horror of all horrors, I laid eyes upon one Mr Edmund Detorri. I could not fathom why he was here, of all places. He could not possibly know.... And yet here was Lady Hartford about to foist him upon her daughter! I could not risk being seen with Miss Hartford, so I made myself scarce outdoors. It worked, but I am afraid this did not escape her attention, for she did notice and she found me there too, lovely as ever and asking far too many questions. It shames me to think she interpreted my actions as a rejection, if only she could know the truth!

But it was what came next that was my downfall. She suggested we take a waltz outside. I have endured many dances in my time, and yet none were as tender or sweet as this one, for I shall treasure the moment in my memory. The moment was cut short though, as a most peculiar thing happened - we were interrupted by a vexed Lady Hartford, and Miss Hartford threw her shawl at me as she was dragged off by her mother. 

It is clearly a special garment and is scented of lemons. She was confident I had an idea of what I was to make of it, but what? I questioned Miss Sutton, and she assured me with a wink that it was simply so I would have reason to see Miss Hartford again. 

I returned home plied with port from Mr Evans, and in my tipsy state, decided I must write to Miss Hartford and send her the shawl (I dared not deliver it in person despite her proximity, for fear of angering her mother). I began writing, but in my ill state I thought it would be a fine idea to instead address a mischevious note to the shawl itself. The intimacy of its contents was deeply improper. I fell asleep soon after, with no intention of sending the dastardly thing.

This morning was exceptionally chaotic at the inn, and in my hurry I forgot all about the letter, much to my detriment. I never intended for it to reach her, but alas! This evening I find the valet had taken the letter from my desk and sent it! I did not realise until it was much too late, for she has already replied!

I sit with her letter in front of me now:

 

Dear Mr Preston

I request your presence at the gazebo by the orangerie tomorrow morning. 

Yours,

Miss Hartford

 

So succinct, she is surely furious. How will I make amends?