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The staff was being assembled by the land agent. Each arrived, having answered an advertisement for their specific role which outlined the details of their responsibilities, and all seemed very ordinary, except there they sat, giving their letters of reference to an ordinary man by whom they might be hired but who would not be their employer.
The groundskeeper and groom were the first positions to be filled by William and James; two young but able lads, who found the mystery worth more discussion.
"D'ye suppose e's a sailor? Maybe e's off in the colonies or maybe a merchant?"
"Aye could be that, right enough or may be e's orf in Lon-don!"
The two would laugh at the prospect of working for someone of the blood royal and then get on with their work until their paths crossed again, and the same conversation, or near enough to it, would take place.
Horses had been sent ahead. Furniture, china and linens began to arrive, and the land agent conscripted two men temporarily to see to the proper placement.
Day after day, the house went slowly from empty to filled, excepting for its main occupant, and day after day, William and James concocted stories of ridiculous proportion as to whom he might be.
Two weeks or so later, as James rested his chin on the hand holding his shovel, and William sat on the edge of his wheelbarrow, both laughing at their latest fantastic contrivance, the top of a parasol became visible from the footpath leading from the old chapel. William stood and James merely lifted his chin.
"Afternoon, Miss"
With a nod of her head, she continued past the two, around the stable and up the hill towards the house.
"No sense in goin' up Miss! The master ain't arrived yet!"
The two exchanged a look of exasperation at the woman not speaking so much as a "how'd ye do" and peeked around the corner to see her closing her parasol and being greeted by the land agent. The wind carried his deep voice to them, "Lady Chapman, I believe you will find your house in order..."
It seemed that 'the master' was not arriving anytime soon, but the mistress was home.
Chapter I: Uncle Scrooge
Hyacinth Albert Lowe has suddenly fallen too ill to get out of bed. Plagued by a high fever, he has had one of the urchins call for his great-uncle, Ebenezer Scrooge, to come oversee the White Hart Inn. Word has it that he is not the friendliest of characters...and he still dresses as if we live in the reign of George IV. Will Christmas continue in Richardstower under the watch of such a grim character?
The Christmas Tree Story
by Aldo Stern
Hugo Dieter sipped his tea in Donna Leena's sitting room. It was just a little too cool to be taking tea out in the breezeway as they liked to do when the temperature was a bit more pleasant. But it was still nice to have tea and socialize in the sitting room.
And after all it was nearly Christmas. As much as the people of this region liked to live their lives in the open air, at a certain point, one found it slightly more comfortable to retreat indoors.
Hugo thought back to his home where he grew up in Germany. It has been years since he had returned there -- for a variety reasons -- but this was the only time of the year when he felt some longing for that past life.
Christmas: his friends among the southern Italians and the expatriates from diverse lands who had made this region their home all loved and enjoyed the season in their own ways. The local decorations such as those put by Donna Sere, with garlands and oranges and the beautiful, elaborate nativity scenes were quite lovely and charming. But he had to admit he missed the good old German-style Christmas tree, lit with candles, giving off a fresh and clean scent of the forest inside every cottage and manor house in his home town, each of them all buttoned up for the winter, with cold-frosted windowpanes and cheerful glow of the fireplaces.
As a rule he didn't talk much about his past, but for this one exception: he had mentioned missing Christmas trees to Donna Leena some time back. It was during a small get-together they had been having to say farewell to Capitano Zeffirelli, who was embarking on a relatively short trip around the peninsula and up to Venezia. It was not going to be one of his epic voyages -- the Capitano would be back soon most likely -- but his friends on Rocca Sorrentina tended to use any event, modest or major, as an excuse for a social occasion.
Even as he reflected on this, there was a knock at Donna Leena's door, which the serving maid opened to reveal a harbor rat, one of the boys who lived every minute of their lives around the docks, doing odd jobs for the ship's masters and helping the fishermen when needed.
"Per favore, Signorina, would you let the Donna Leena know that Capitano Zeffirelli's ship has returned and he respectfully requests the honor of her presence, and that of Signor Dieter as well, down in the old harbor?
Curious, Hugo and Donna Leena gave the boy some coppers as a gratuity, and set off. As they got to the wharf, they could see Don Lucerio's ship, sails furled, floating at anchor out in the deeper waters of the old harbor. Its whaleboat was already on the rocky beach, where the Capitano was overseeing his crewmen unloading various items. The tall mariner approached them, booming a greeting and then, while winking at Donna Leena, he thumped Hugo on the back in a comradely fashion.
"I've got something for you, my friend." and he motioned to one of his crewmen, the surly-looking fellow known as "Scrofulous Jack," who brought up something wrapped in burlap.
With a flourish, Capitano Zeffirelli drew off the covering revealing a remarkably happy-looking little northern spruce tree, potted in a earthenware vessel.
"For you, my friend...and for everyone to enjoy as well, if you wish. When I was in Venezia, I arranged to have one brought down from the Austrian mountains. Surprisingly not all that complicated. I wish I could tell you I had to move heaven and earth and deal with a score of unsavory characters to get it, but I actually just had to go through a botanist friend who works with some landscape gardeners up there."
He shrugged. "Sometimes things are a bit of a challenge, and sometimes we are pleasantly surprised by how easy they can be. Anyway, I wish you a blessed and happy Christmas, my friend."
Credits: Story written by Aldo Stern, Poses and Props by Lucerius Zeffirelli, Photos and Props by Lady Leena Fandango
Treatment Diary Regarding His Royal Highness George, Prince Regent of the United Kingdom and Ireland
From the records of Dr. Sir Henry Halford, Baronet, Royal College of Physicians (AKA William Greymoon.) Sir Henry is Physician Extraordinary to His Majesty King George III, and also serves His Royal Highness the Prince Regent and other members of the Royal Household. Trained at Oxford and Edinburgh, he is considered a leading contender for the Presidency of the Royal College of Physicians.
1st November, 1819.
I examined His Royal Highness the Prince Regent who reported pressure in his knees and periodic pain and swelling in the joints. Moderate pressure caused His Highness to moan. I prescribed an herb pressure bandage and salve for the swelling, the bandage to be applied twice each day and the salve three times. At His Highnesss direction, I have given the exact prescription for the herb pressure bandage to his personal attendant, and I have compounded the salve personally and sent it by messenger to the same attendant.
I questioned His Highness about his weeks food and drink. His Highness reported consumption of boar, venison and beef, with only rare chicken or fish, and admitted to drinking substantial wine and rum. I instructed him to eat white meat rather than red, to avoid rum and to drink no more than two litres of white wine (no red) per day for the next five days.
His Highness strenuously protested the instructions. Therefore, at Marchioness Conynghams suggestion, I have given the information directly to His Highnesss cook.
Henry Halford
Shared by Marchioness Conyngham (Tiamat Windstorm) - although she knows she is being shockingly indiscrete.
Elizabeth Farnese shifts in her seat while her mother continuesher concerns about Eddies all nighters. She slowly runs her finger around the rim of the nearly cold coffee cup. She makes a slight response with a twitch of her forehead at the last remark.
Eh! She says, shaking her head slightly as she glances toward Megan to see if she is observant enough to freshen her cup. She dabs her lips with the cloth napkin before placing it back across her lap.
She turns toward her mother, nodding. Well mother, were just going to have to create a united front. No more bickering. We will just have to march up there and tell him how its going to be. She lets out a sigh knowing this is easier said than done.
I first glimpsed her in a photo of the hallway of the Princess Margaret Oakville Showhome 2015 . I thought she was stunning. Imagine having a home where she is one of the first things you see coming through the door.
Unlikely to happen for me in real life but more than feasible in Second Life!
Great Balls of Fire!! It started out as another beautiful day at the Petit Trianon; sun shining, birds singing, absolutely perfect for the All Hallows' Costume Dance.
The guests started to arrive; some on broomsticks, others just appearing out of nowhere. This being Second Life their chosen means of transportation didn't raise much of fuss (well except maybe for that HUGE spider that scurried in ... not sure where that creature was hiding her invitation and I certainly wasn't about to approach her to ask!). The costumes were fabulous ...
While Marie Antoinette had a gaggle of gardeners to prepare the grounds of the Petit Trianon for her elaborate parties, I'm very content to be working away on my own in SL. After all, where else can you get away with wearing an elaborate ballgown while hauling fresh bales of hay!
My latest adventure in decorating coincides with the All Hallows' Costume Dance which is being hosted by the Duché de Coeur & Rocca Sorrentina on October 25th. Having decided that the French Garden Parterre would be an excellent spot for a party, I waded in and got to work clearing the summer gardens to start with a fresh canvas.
Before I knew it, new trees were taking root and autumn leaves were everywhere!
The Conte had no qualms leaving Hugo and Beatrice in each others company. He knew that they would look after each other, and the journey would most likely do the rest. The Conte chuckled to himself as he quickly lost himself in the crowds milling around the port.
He had had to delay their departure from Marseilles, while he concluded his business affairs. Now he had one last, but very important meeting, and then they could continue their journey north.
As he made his way through the now familiar narrow back streets, he found himself whistling an old folk song he had learnt half a lifetime ago when he had been a young man in Istanbul.
The address he had been given took him to a very inconspicuous door. He hesitated, smiled, and entered the building, carefully closing the door behind him. An unlit small hallway, took him to another door. He knocked gently and went in. 
In a small office a very, pretty young woman was busy working at a ledger. At his entrance she looks up and fixes him with gentle amber eyes.
Can I help you, Sir? She asks, rising from her chair.
I have an appointment with Grigore Mihai Vlastos. He is expecting me, I think.
And who shall I tell my father wishes to see him?
Please tell him that Fillipe Foscari is here to see him. Are you Loukia Vlastos?
For a moment the young woman hesitates at the sound of the now unfamiliar name.
Yes I am. Have we met, Sir?
In a way The Conte smiles But I dont expect you to remember. It was a very long time ago, in another place, and you were just a baby.
I will go and tell my Father you are here. Loukia smiles sweetly, bobs a quick curtsey and disappears through a curtain. She reappears a second later. Please go through. Loukia bobs another curtsey and holds the curtain aside for the Conte. 
And there, is his old friend, surrounded by the tools of his trade.
At the sound of the Contes footsteps Grigore turns around. The two Men embrace each other.
My dear Grigo it has been so many years The Conte says looking at his old companion.
Too many years have passed, since we were young men, running about the Phanar from party to party, while our fathers were too busy with government matters to keep a close watch on us! Grigore laughs.
Grigore takes a dusty bottle from one of his shelves, along with two glasses.
Here Fillipe, this will remind you of those far of days of our youth. He fills the glasses with liquid from the bottle and hand one of the glasses to the Conte. Both Men clink their glasses together and take a sip.
Ahh yes, it certainly reminds me of too many nights in the tavern. The Conte smiles at the memory. It was a great surprise to receive your letter after all this time, Grigo, a very pleasant surprise. The Conte continues.
So you are a Conte now? Grigore chuckles How did that happen?
Yes it seems I am. The Conte smiles It was my reward for doing the Austrian Empress a favour.
What about your Father? I cant imagine he was pleased. How is the old fellow these days?
I dont think my Father has ever completely forgiven me. To a certain extent it has caused an everlasting rift between us. He still thinks of me as a traitor. Apart from that, he is his usual workaholic self. They just gave him the post of deputy to pias causas for a second time, and he still holds his positions as the administrator on hospitals and charitable institutions, and as the administrator on municipal Heritage. He is pretty inexhaustible. He did, however, decline the post of Ambassador in ST Petersburg in 82, but sent my brother Ferigo instead.
Im impressed! He must be over 80. Grigore pours another measure of liquid into their glasses. 
He will be 82 in December, but what about you Grigo. How did you end up in Marseille?
Ahh, I have been here nearly 12 years now. The war with the Russians in 68 did little to improve trade for the family. So the Vlastos Family gave up the fur trade and got involved in other trades. As you know we are a versatile Family, and spread all over Europe.
So given my penchant for Chemistry I was encouraged by the Uncles to transfer here to Marseilles. This region of France boasts a great variety of flowers, and the French court is crying out for perfumes. So trade is very brisk. Its all I can do to keep up with demands. This. Grigore encompasses the room with his hand ..is where I experiment with new scents and concoctions, which are then made up in Volume at afactory I have in a small place called Grasse, some days ride further along the coast.
My wife, Raluca, died back in 71, and we had no other children apart from Loukia. She was still very young, and missed her mother, so it seemed a very good moment to start afresh, somewhere new.
It was a shock to see Loukia all grown up. The last times I saw her she was just a Baby. Ahh how time has slipped away The Conte sighs and takes another sip.
Lucie. Here in this land she goes by the name of Lucie. Your Elena must also be grown up. Grigore ventures Is she married with children of her own? Are you a grandfather? Grigore laughs.
Not Yet, Elena shows no inclination in that direction, which sometimes worries me. She seems happy to travel the courts of Europe as my representative. She is a very independent soul.
Just like her Mother. Grigore smiles. I will never forget my Fathers face when she broke with all conventions, andinformed us at dinner that she had broken of her engagement to our cousin, Gheorghe, and was now engaged to you. I thought my Father would have a fit, his face was so red! Grigore laughs. Then when he calmed down he saw the advantages of having a daughter married to the son of the Ambassador Extraordinary of Venice, and the Vlastos family always have plenty of other girls to marry their cousins, and you know how we like to marry well, usually to our cousins, so you really were an exception. However, Father didnt let me off so lightly, I was always blamed for allowing the two of you to meet in the first place. Grigore chuckles.
Tell me Fillipe, does Elena know the truth? Grigore asks in a more serious tone.
No she doesnt. She was so tiny, when we left Istanbul, I doubt she remembers anything before our return to Venice, and Giovanna Mocellini was a good woman and accepted Elena as her own, and Venetian Society pays little attention to female children, until they are ready to marry. Elena has always believed herself to be Giovannas daughter. Giovanna also died a few years ago and Elena grieved for her as her Mother. I didnt want her to grieve twice and thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. The Conte looks wistful and takes another sip from his glass. Both men sip their drinks in silence, lost in though and memories. After a while the Conte takes out a gold pocket watch, with an enamelled miniature of a dark haired girl on one side.
Im afraid, my dear friend that I must take my leave of you. I do hope to see you on my return journey. The Conte says getting up.
Grigore notices the watch, but says nothing. 
Before you go, I have a copy of the book you asked me to find, and a letter from Chios. May God watch over you, until next we meet.Grigore hands The Conte a book, with a worn leather cover and a sealed letter.
Liz sighs, slowlyresigning herself to what must be Martins truth. Money was most important, and while she may not always have Paris, she certainly had access to the internet.
https://exiledthegame.wordpress.com/2015/10/13/ep-2-the-gunpowder-plot/