I look out at the vast and rather beautiful grounds beyond my window here in Hatfield House. It is a cold, almost freezing day withal and I shall not be venturing out to ride or indeed, to pursue any of the many outdoor pursuits that I normally enjoy. The fire is banked up high with logs here in my privy chamber and the warmth surrounds me pleasurably.
The trees look bleak and sparse in their winter dressing, even the great oak can only boast a fulsome array of branches and no fresh leaves. I long for the warmth of summer, sunshine and bright blue skies but for now I can only appreciate the landscape beyond through the small lattices of my window.
I await a visitor with some amusement mixed with curiosity. I have made it plain to my attendants, chaperone and servants that I will receive
