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6 October 1794

Rome, Italy

Dearest of all friends, Lorsagne,

It is not yet light as I write this farewell. I am told my ship, The Isabella, will set sail just after dawn. I know you expect me to return to Rocca Sorrentina after some time with Father, but I find that is not to be. It is not just the disappointing news you recently shared that night when friends gathered in my villa rooms. That report might turn me from all Frenchmen for the remainder of my lifetime, but would not likely send me flying from Italy. Father suggests that once his business is completed in Rome, it will be time we return to England. He tells me Dr. Johnson is not well and that, his long-time hostess and friend has left him to fend for himself at the last. I am quite certain there are many others who will happily tend and comfort the dear man in his darkening hours. I want to be one of them.

I fear it will be some time before we meet again face to face, my friend. As always, you will be in my heart and on my mind. And, of course, there will be letters. Lots and lots of letters. I recall that you plan to return to France in the near future. Perhaps some business (or pelasure?) will one day bring you to London. There, I hope you will call on me, your most adoring friend and confidante,

Fanny

6 October 1794

Rome, Italy

Dearest of all friends, Lorsagne,

It is not yet light as I write this farewell. I am told my ship, The Isabella, will set sail just after dawn. I know you expect me to return to Rocca Sorrentina after some time with Father, but I find that is not to be. It is not just the disappointing news you recently shared that night when friends gathered in my villa rooms. That report might turn me from all Frenchmen for the remainder of my lifetime, but would not likely send me flying from Italy. Father suggests that once his business is completed in Rome, it will be time we return to England. He tells me Dr. Johnson is not well and that, his long-time hostess and friend has left him to fend for himself at the last. I am quite certain there are many others who will happily tend and comfort the dear man in his darkening hours. I want to be one of them.

I fear it will be some time before we meet again face to face, my friend. As always, you will be in my heart and on my mind. And, of course, there will be letters. Lots and lots of letters. I recall that you plan to return to France in the near future. Perhaps some business (or pelasure?) will one day bring you to London. There, I hope you will call on me, your most adoring friend and confidante,

Fanny

1784, 27 September

Dearest Father, Composer of My Very Being and Arbiter of My most Consequential Choices,

I write first and foremost to congratulate you, Father! No daughter of any great man could be more proud than I am to hear of your recent commission in Rome. Music for Holy Week at the Papal Chapel! Could any musician hope for a greater honor? You must feel that you have, at last, achieved one of your life's greatest purposes.

Of course, I will join you in Rome! How could I refuse to be at my fathers' side under such grand circumstances? Perhaps you will be in Italy long enough to return to Rocca Sorrentina with me for just a brief retreat? I can guarantee, Father, the sea air and subtle, warm winds are quite restorative. I have had not even a sniffle in all the months I have been in residence here and feel myself in greater vigor than ever before. I am sure a visit would benefit my most excellent father.

As to your other question, about M. Lt. Badeau -- I have indeed heard from him since you and I saw him together in Marseilles. He wrote not too long ago about his travels, saying that he is called to further service by his King. Unfortunately, I do not know when I will hear directly from him again, as his duties are of a somewhat secret nature and require some great amount of discretion on his part. I have heard from a friend of my dear friend, Lorsagne DeSade -- Yes, Father I am aware of your feelings about that friendship and assure you an association with Lorsagne is not an association with her infamous father, now incarcerated in the Bastile. -- Lorsagne's friend, another French soldier, by the nameLucien de Robion-Castellane, was here in Italy not long ago. He told me then that Lorsagne has news of Henri. I do hope to hear from her soon. Even better, I hope she returns soon from her own travels so that she can share her news face to face.

Father, I have begun writing that play we discussed in France. It is coming along and I think you will enjoy the comedy. It will be ready for Mr. Sheridan quite soon. And, tell me, please, how is your dear wife, my dear step-mother? Susan writes that she has been unwell. I hope she has by now recovered, thereby restoring serenity to house and home.

I will post this note on the next ship to leave port. I look forward to seeing you next month in Rome!

Your Most Devoted Daughter,

Fanny

1784, 27 September

Dearest Father, Composer of My Very Being and Arbiter of My most Consequential Choices,

I write first and foremost to congratulate you, Father! No daughter of any great man could be more proud than I am to hear of your recent commission in Rome. Music for Holy Week at the Papal Chapel! Could any musician hope for a greater honor? You must feel that you have, at last, achieved one of your life's greatest purposes.

Of course, I will join you in Rome! How could I refuse to be at my fathers' side under such grand circumstances? Perhaps you will be in Italy long enough to return to Rocca Sorrentina with me for just a brief retreat? I can guarantee, Father, the sea air and subtle, warm winds are quite restorative. I have had not even a sniffle in all the months I have been in residence here and feel myself in greater vigor than ever before. I am sure a visit would benefit my most excellent father.

As to your other question, about M. Lt. Badeau -- I have indeed heard from him since you and I saw him together in Marseilles. He wrote not too long ago about his travels, saying that he is called to further service by his King. Unfortunately, I do not know when I will hear directly from him again, as his duties are of a somewhat secret nature and require some great amount of discretion on his part. I have heard from a friend of my dear friend, Lorsagne DeSade -- Yes, Father I am aware of your feelings about that friendship and assure you an association with Lorsagne is not an association with her infamous father, now incarcerated in the Bastile. -- Lorsagne's friend, another French soldier, by the nameLucien de Robion-Castellane, was here in Italy not long ago. He told me then that Lorsagne has news of Henri. I do hope to hear from her soon. Even better, I hope she returns soon from her own travels so that she can share her news face to face.

Father, I have begun writing that play we discussed in France. It is coming along and I think you will enjoy the comedy. It will be ready for Mr. Sheridan quite soon. And, tell me, please, how is your dear wife, my dear step-mother? Susan writes that she has been unwell. I hope she has by now recovered, thereby restoring serenity to house and home.

I will post this note on the next ship to leave port. I look forward to seeing you next month in Rome!

Your Most Devoted Daughter,

Fanny

Weeks and months had passed since laying eyes upon the Estate and finally I had everything nearly in place. I had received a letter from Mama and Papa advising me of the death of two of my dear cousins from smallpox, and thought a visit to the chapel in the house a good idea. I also had much to be thankful for in my own good health and good fortune.

I walked into the dark, paneled room and was immediately touched by the faint scent of incense, from a mass long past, undoubtedly. The evening sun streamed through the stained windows in the front of the room, each one bedecked with an image of Faith, Hope and Charity. Place such as this had always touched me deeply. The knowledge that so many prayers had been said here in this very room, for so many different things. Prayers for grace, for healing, for safe travels for a loved one. I am not a very pious person, I never have been, but churches and chapels always turned my mood somber and serious.

I clutched my prayer book to my chest and walked to the kneeling bench. My heels seemed too loud for such a silent room.

Kneeling, I felt my heart overflow with the things I had done which had cause offense to others, and to God. I pressed my palms together and began to pray, silently petitioning for the repose of my cousins, the good health of my Mama and Papa, and all of my friends, for more grace and modesty and for the King. I rose and walked to a pew to watch the rays of sun travel down the long windows. Sitting wordlessly, I imagined the weddings and funerals that the previous owner must have had here. I had never considered a home with a chapel before, but now I thought it a very good thing indeed.

Sighing deeply, I rose, straightening my skirts and walked across the floor giving one last glance to the day's last light as it sliced through the glass and landed squarely on the cross on the altar. I walked through the doors, closing them as quietly as possible, allowing nature and God to say 'good night' in peace.

* * *

The ballroom by the time the clock struck twelve was already full with laughter behind the masks and fizzing sounds of champagne. Behind the masks were people of most different agendas - spies, perhaps - but the masks kept their secrets safe, as tonight everyone could be anyone they want. As if their usual masks of powdered face were not enough.

As more and more guests arrived to the palace and more and more greeted each other and paid respects to the already present Queen of Prussia there was puzzlement over where the host - His majesty Frederich II - was? It was until the moment the formerly 'infamous' Baroness von Essen whispered news in a hurry to Her Majesty that the answers were given. Her Majesty stood up and upon asking for everyone's attention announced: "His Majesty unfortunately cannot attend this masquerade due to official affairs that he hurriedly needs to attend to." Her Majesty sighed knowing that His Majesty yet again abandoned her to host the courtly events in Berlin while he prefers to stay in his Sanssouci residence. So much of a long-anticipated (one-sidedly) meeting!

The masquerade still carried on disregarding anyone's feelings. It was a merry evening full of dancing and laughing, as the boundaries between good and bad were so thin thanks to the masks. Her Royal Highness Princess Amalia was found scandalous dancing and enjoying female company for a dance. Furthermore, the Princess decided to occupy the King's seat as her own in his absence. Well, he was not there, was he?

Grafin von Polentz who attended to the Queen that evening showed clear hostility towards the Baroness who recently got cleared of false charges of treason. The two have been old enemies for a long time now. What an irony that they both wore dresses tailored from same fabric.

The masked ball was concluded with the last dance between her Majesty the Queen dressed as Demeter Goddess of harvest and masked Herr von Haugwitz from the King's household. The Queen was seen heavily breathing, as she was sure not in "right form" to dance coupled by the fact that it was a really long time since she last danced with anyone, especially her own husband King Frederick II.

It was now time to announce the winners of the contest among ladies and gentlemen. The winners were the ever beautiful Claudia d'Orleans from France (travelling incognito) and the flamboyant Frenchman Louis-Charles de Beauvoir, Marquis de Chagny for their gorgeous autumn deer costumes. It seems deer antlers bring luck, indeed, as we found out that evening.

Now the 'formal' part of the evening was over. What happened will stay between those who were present that night.

(( OOC pictures will be posted on ning later on~ ^w^ Thank you for coming to the masquerade! And special thanks to tjay - our Princess Amalia - who built and organised this event most splendidly ;-P))

* * *

The ballroom by the time the clock struck twelve was already full with laughter behind the masks and fizzing sounds of champagne. Behind the masks were people of most different agendas - spies, perhaps - but the masks kept their secrets safe, as tonight everyone could be anyone they want. As if their usual masks of powdered face were not enough.

As more and more guests arrived to the palace and more and more greeted each other and paid respects to the already present Queen of Prussia there was puzzlement over where the host - His majesty Frederich II - was? It was until the moment the formerly 'infamous' Baroness von Essen whispered news in a hurry to Her Majesty that the answers were given. Her Majesty stood up and upon asking for everyone's attention announced: "His Majesty unfortunately cannot attend this masquerade due to official affairs that he hurriedly needs to attend to." Her Majesty sighed knowing that His Majesty yet again abandoned her to host the courtly events in Berlin while he prefers to stay in his Sanssouci residence. So much of a long-anticipated (one-sidedly) meeting!

The masquerade still carried on disregarding anyone's feelings. It was a merry evening full of dancing and laughing, as the boundaries between good and bad were so thin thanks to the masks. Her Royal Highness Princess Amalia was found scandalous dancing and enjoying female company for a dance. Furthermore, the Princess decided to occupy the King's seat as her own in his absence. Well, he was not there, was he?

Grafin von Polentz who attended to the Queen that evening showed clear hostility towards the Baroness who recently got cleared of false charges of treason. The two have been old enemies for a long time now. What an irony that they both wore dresses tailored from same fabric.

The masked ball was concluded with the last dance between her Majesty the Queen dressed as Demeter Goddess of harvest and masked Herr von Haugwitz from the King's household. The Queen was seen heavily breathing, as she was sure not in "right form" to dance coupled by the fact that it was a really long time since she last danced with anyone, especially her own husband King Frederick II.

It was now time to announce the winners of the contest among ladies and gentlemen. The winners were the ever beautiful Claudia d'Orleans from France (travelling incognito) and the flamboyant Frenchman Louis-Charles de Beauvoir, Marquis de Chagny for their gorgeous autumn deer costumes. It seems deer antlers bring luck, indeed, as we found out that evening.

Now the 'formal' part of the evening was over. What happened will stay between those who were present that night.

(( OOC pictures will be posted on ning later on~ ^w^ Thank you for coming to the masquerade! And special thanks to tjay - our Princess Amalia - who built and organised this event most splendidly ;-P))

After receiving a letter from my parents in early summer bidding me to come home for an important discussion, I found myself in the midst of a flurry of activity. My father, it seemed, was interested in purchasing land for industries in the growth, and eventual trade of cotton, tobacco, sugar and indigo in the West Indies. He envisioned doubling his merchant ships in the sale of the finished product. I was resigned to a visit requiring nothing more than looks of admiration at my father's future successes, but he and Mama had more in mind.

A good portion of the lands in England were being sold, he advised me, to pay for these investments.... including the estate which he, himself, had given me to oversee! Faced with the possibility of having to move back into residency with overbearing parents, I began to protest when my father raised his hand to silence me.

" Olivia," he chided me "hold your tongue and allow me to finish before jumping to any conclusions. I have thought this through and feel sure this is the most prudent course of action. I am going to invest in your future, as well. As you are aware, your match to anyone socially preferable requires that your hand comes with a large settlement. I found myself in a quandary about how I should protect your dowry, whilst assuring that your fortune might... " he paused, looking for a diplomatic phrase, and then shrugged and laid his cards bluntly upon the table "...make the match more attractive."

I was dumbfounded. It all came back to marriage again. Oh, how exhausted I was with the prospect of another potential "Baron". My countenance must have belied my thoughts, because my dear Papa came closer, stroking my cheek affectionately and bringing my lips to curl into a smile.

"The short of it is this, my dearest daughter. Rather than risk a fortune which might well be spent by a scoundrel, I am instead taking some of the profits from my endeavors and we are going to find a suitable estate which will encourage the right suitors to come calling."

I was elated. I allowed them the luxury of their belief that I was again dreaming of a marriage, when instead the bells of independence rang in my head, happily drowning out further conversation.

The entire summer was spent in the process of finding just the right location and upon seeing the estate in Somerset, I knew that was the one. Each day of my father departing in a carriage to speak with a solicitor or a land agent brought me closer to my heart's desire until finally he revealed that the deed was, in fact, and in law, in my name alone and with a legal entailment preventing it from changing hands from any other than either my heir, or, in the event I should die childless, be absorbed back into the family, to be bestowed upon the next of kin.

I did my very best to retain my modesty and economy throughout, and finally... FINALLY... the day came that I had longed for. I was back at the helm, where I belonged, the unlikely, but indisputable, captain of my own destiny, with just the winds of fortune to guide me.

Months have been spent in the acquisition of a proper household, groundskeeper, stable hands, and the like, and at last only a few small details remain. A list of friends long since met, sits before me on my writing table, and I cannot help but smile knowing that very soon, I might write them to bid them 'Come to Somerset...'

Early morning, 18 August 1784

Maison Diamante, Marseille

Lorsagne did not share the common belief that soaking in waterespecially hot waterwould permit disease to enter her body, and she was pleased to see that the finely finished and furnished room provided for her use in de Saboulin Bollenas house known as Maison Diamante contained a large copper bathtub, as well as an enormous tile stove capable of heating both the room and the requisite water she would need to wash away the grime of the journey from Sorrentina to Marseille.

The servant assigned to tend to her needs disapproved, of course, but the woman had followed Lorsagnes instruction to have the tub filled with hot water at dawn so Lorsagne could begin her day with a bath infused with lavender, mint, and dried iris flowers. Fresh linen garments were simply no substitute for a long soak to Lorsagnes mind and she used the time in her bath to review what she had learned the previous evening over a long and felicitous dinner with her godfather and their host, a representative of the powerful and ancient house of Saboulin Bollena, one of Marseilles premier ship-owners trading with ports of the Levant as well as the West Indies.

Splashing the now cooling water over her breasts she laughed recalling how Saboulin Bollena had come to her defense when she protested to her godfather that she needed a day of rest on land before once again boarding a ship where she would be subject to the discomfort that always accompanied her when she was forced to travel by sea. Saboulin Bollena had interjected that he, too, suffered from chronic seasickness that no amount of ginger could alleviate and convinced her godfather that a days delay would allow him to ensure the ship he was putting at their disposal was well-provisioned and that its captain and crew were both skilled and discrete.

Considering that the presence of Lorsagnes godfather in France defied the orders of both the French king and the pope, discretion was a compelling argument against which Camara had made no objection.

Rising from her bath and attended by the serving woman who wrapped her in warmed linen sheets, Lorsagne turned her thoughts to the small packet of correspondence her godfather had given her the evening before. She would spend the day writing and dispatching her replies, beginning with the Parisian jeweler to whom she had given the commission to create a suitable christening gift for her godchild Maria and ending with a response to Capitane Lucien de Robion-Castellanes worrisome report about her friend Fannys young solider, Lt. Henri Badeau.

Early morning, 18 August 1784

Maison Diamante, Marseille

Lorsagne did not share the common belief that soaking in waterespecially hot waterwould permit disease to enter her body, and she was pleased to see that the finely finished and furnished room provided for her use in de Saboulin Bollenas house known as Maison Diamante contained a large copper bathtub, as well as an enormous tile stove capable of heating both the room and the requisite water she would need to wash away the grime of the journey from Sorrentina to Marseille.

The servant assigned to tend to her needs disapproved, of course, but the woman had followed Lorsagnes instruction to have the tub filled with hot water at dawn so Lorsagne could begin her day with a bath infused with lavender, mint, and dried iris flowers. Fresh linen garments were simply no substitute for a long soak to Lorsagnes mind and she used the time in her bath to review what she had learned the previous evening over a long and felicitous dinner with her godfather and their host, a representative of the powerful and ancient house of Saboulin Bollena, one of Marseilles premier ship-owners trading with ports of the Levant as well as the West Indies.

Splashing the now cooling water over her breasts she laughed recalling how Saboulin Bollena had come to her defense when she protested to her godfather that she needed a day of rest on land before once again boarding a ship where she would be subject to the discomfort that always accompanied her when she was forced to travel by sea. Saboulin Bollena had interjected that he, too, suffered from chronic seasickness that no amount of ginger could alleviate and convinced her godfather that a days delay would allow him to ensure the ship he was putting at their disposal was well-provisioned and that its captain and crew were both skilled and discrete.

Considering that the presence of Lorsagnes godfather in France defied the orders of both the French king and the pope, discretion was a compelling argument against which Camara had made no objection.

Rising from her bath and attended by the serving woman who wrapped her in warmed linen sheets, Lorsagne turned her thoughts to the small packet of correspondence her godfather had given her the evening before. She would spend the day writing and dispatching her replies, beginning with the Parisian jeweler to whom she had given the commission to create a suitable christening gift for her godchild Maria and ending with a response to Capitane Lucien de Robion-Castellanes worrisome report about her friend Fannys young solider, Lt. Henri Badeau.