(Part 01)
Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story begins in the East, or more precisely, 20 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between Finchbottom and Pepperstock Green, in the sprawling village of Denmead.
Owen Carrington’s Uncle Glyn died on New Year’s Day and left him his Cottage and a small cash sum, more than enough to keep him going for a few more years.
He left it to him because he felt they were kindred spirits, he wanted to be a writer himself but his father made him get a proper job, Owen really liked him and he was a great story teller, and it was his Uncles colourful tales that helped him when he was writing his novels.
His death came as a great shock as it was sudden though not unsurprising given his health.
So that was how he found himself living in a lovely Victorian Cottage in the quaint Downshire Village of Denmead.
It was a very tranquil place though not without its distractions.
From his study he could look out through the open French windows and across the expanse of lawn to a stand of ancient woodland, there was no fence to separate garden and wood the two just merged.
And on the other side of the wood was the hub of the village, the Green Oak, everyone seemed to go there at some point, either for a drink, the restaurant or the coffee suite.
As a writer Owen’s star was definitely in the ascendency after the success of his first Romantic novel “The Maiden Muse” but the change in the fortunes of his writing career were not universally well received, his publisher liked it, his new agent loved it, the bank manager was ecstatic about it but his mother was disappointed by it because she thought it was a bit girlie.
But it wasn’t just his writing career that was climbing high, so was his love life thanks to his muse and lover, Juliana Molesworth, who had brought his writers block to an end, and since she had become his muse he had become a writer of bodice ripping romances which had proved to be an occupation which suited him very well indeed.
And it suited him in many ways, but the main benefit was that he was able to work at home, so he had no tedious commute every day and his working day was flexible to the point that some days he didn’t write at all.
This afforded him the opportunity of playing a round of Golf during the working week when most people had their noses to the grindstone or even taking a day out to go fishing.
However his muse was in her third year at the University of
Downshire where she studied English at Abbottsford.
In the short time they had been together she had come to mean everything to him so in the final weeks of the year he did something that rocked her world, he asked her to marry him, and she said yes.
(Part 02)
Since the day of the proposal they hadn’t really had a chance to talk much about the engagement and setting a date for the wedding, Owen had publishing deadlines and Juliana was busy with assignments that needed to be in by Christmas, so the opportunity hadn’t arisen.
Despite that they were quite chilled about the whole thing and wouldn’t have thought it a very high priority had it not been for her mum Lavinia who had been acting like a thing possessed.
She had gone into total wedding planner mode and kept pestering the two of them for details.
So when she arrived home at the beginning of December she suggested they go back to his cottage, partly to escape her mum, but as the house was empty it would be the perfect opportunity to discuss the big event and make the important decisions without any interruptions.
So that was how they came to be sitting in the lounge talking about the wedding.
“Church?” he asked
“St Jane’s of course” she replied
“Agreed” he said and wrote it down
“Reception?” he asked
“The Clayton Manor” she replied
“Good choice” he agreed and added that to the list
“When?” he asked
“I don’t know about you but I thought it would be nice to do it on the anniversary of us getting together” she suggested
“I don’t remember when that was” he said scratching his head
“Well you remember the day you took advantage of me and stole my innocence” she stated
“I think you might be miss remembering the occasion Miss Molesworth” he told her
“I don’t think so” she said indignantly “I was an innocent until you got your grubby hands me”
“The way I remember it I didn’t have to take anything” he corrected her “you offered it to me on a plate”
“That’s not how it was at all,” she said giving him a playful punch
“The way I remember it, YOU seduced me,” Owen said
“I did not,” she said laughing and punched him again
After a couple of minutes of them both giggling he said
“I understand what you’re saying now, you want us to get married next year on the nearest Saturday to the day you seduced me” he said adding it to the list
“Yes” she said “two years from the day you first forced yourself on me”
“Ok you speak to the Clayton Manor about booking the hotel” Owen said “and I’ll go down and speak to the Vicar about St Jane’s”
“That’s settled then” she said and moved in very close to him, “Can we do some canoodling now”
“I think that’s what you had in mind all the time” he said “you didn’t want to discuss the wedding at all, there’s no hope for you is there?, you’re throwing yourself at me again”
“Are you going to kiss me or not?” she asked
“Oh alright then” he said and his kissed his darling muse.
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