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.
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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