The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

Brasenose College, Oxford, October 24th, 1901 (study hour) Diary, it is now two weeks since I was precariously perched on the top of Maurice FitzAllen's wardrobe. Happily, I am able to report that it proved unnecessary to develop the shot, for Maurice did undergo a change of heart and it is now possible to debate issues of the day with him in a sensible, civilised manner. Frankly, I doubt if he will ever become close friends with political opponents but thanks to Maurice's influence, those who support the Boer War no longer snarl like animals at those in the opposite camp in the dining hall. As we had no photographs to send to The Cremorne, Joshua, Charles and myself each insisted on giving Rosamund a guinea, for her part in the lascivious affair. But, for my part, I am very pleased that we did not have to resort to threatening Maurice as we had planned. For I was uneasy from the very start about the scheme which I knew was only a hair's breadth away from blackmail. Still, all's well that ends well, although as a precautionary measure, Joshua has insisted keeping the negatives from the photographs he took with his Gewirtz Waistcoat camera in case Maurice is ever tempted to revert to his bad old ways. Now on to fresh and exciting news. Charles came into the library this morning and passed me a letter he had received from his cousin Cassandra Morley. 'You'll find her letter far more interesting than that boring tome on political economy you've had in front of you since ten o'clock.' 'Nothing can be more tedious than marginal demand and the law of diminishing returns,' I grunted.

I took the letter out of the envelope which I noticed bore a postmark from South Devon, one of my favourite areas of England.

'Charles, this letter is marked Private and Confidential. Are you quite sure that you don't mind my reading it?' 'Not in the slightest,' he rejoined quietly. 'Before you begin, let me explain that my pretty cousin Cassandra is only eighteen, and though educated in a quiet girls' school on the outskirts of Torquay, has a far from demure disposition. The family gossips say that her wildness comes from her mother who is of Italian extraction, and she certainly possesses the physical attributes of my Aunt Elena, whose striking looks attracted His Majesty the King when he visited Morley Hall eighteen months ago. 'He was Prince of Wales then, of course,' added Charles and he lowered his voice still further and said: “There was talk amongst the servants that not only did he share Aunt Elena's bed, but that he also wanted to fuck Cassandra as well, but my aunt refused, saying that Cassie was only just sixteen-years-old and far too young for him.' 'I can quite believe it,' I murmured softly.

'The King really is an old devil, and I wouldn't put it past him to try and romp with both mother and daughter at the same time.'

'Quite so, old boy,' agreed Charles. “There can't be many monarchs who would have the nerve to fuck their hostess whilst her husband was snoring away next door – and before you ask, no, my poor Uncle Roger is not a man complaisant.' 'Actually, being only a distant relative of my father, Roger Morley is only an honorary uncle, although my brothers and I have always accorded him this title.

However, our families have always been very friendly and I've always been especially fond of Cassandra who was an enchantingly pretty child and is now a ravishingly beautiful eighteen-year-old girl, who is lusted after by all the young gentry of Devonshire. 'Anyhow, to return to my anecdote, according to his valet, either the Prince or my aunt slipped a small phial of chloral hydrate into Uncle Roger's final glass of port before they were due to retire. So after he staggered upstairs, he fell into bed and slept like a top whilst Aunt Elena rushed into the Prince's bedroom and stayed there for the best part of two hours. Anyhow, why don't you read Cassandra's letter and then meet me for a coffee in the common room in about fifteen minutes time?'

He hurried off and I unfolded the sheaves of paper and read the following: