Okay, I've been saying that I'll start this so I might as well keep my promise. This will be a half narration/half epistolary story set between 1911 and 1930 (ish) and will follow the Fairfax family (Lord Charles from E&A belongs to this clan) throughout; touching on all 6 children (Charles included) of the 16th Duke and Duchess of Craven, but particularly on the eldest son Jack, Lord Wilsden, and the youngest child and daughter Lady Helen. Throughout this time period, both will change beyond recognition and both, whilst close, will fulfil their own destinies far apart from one another. Charles will appear a few times so hopefully you will enjoy this.

I am gonna have as little of one type of narration in one chapter as I can, so I'll be swapping every chapter xD The prologue is a letter, then a diary entry with stuff 'stuck' on the page, like a scrapbook, then the last one is a scribbled note.

Enjoy guys :)


August 31st 1911


Before you start wondering what this letter is about I'll get straight to the point; I have two tickets to see an amateur production of Dr. Faustus in Skipton, North Yorkshire. I've included your ticket, because you are accompanying me in the absence of your brothers and father, and also a programme so you can see who is playing who. It's to raise money for the local charities set up by the late Duchess of Craven. Wear something that fits, not that vile thing you call a dinner jacket, and if you don't have anything then let me know and I'll send down some money in an envelope. I don't want a repeat of what we had when we had Lord and Lady Patricks visit; you were the nearest thing to embarrassment I've ever experienced, though luckily your tongue saved you. Apparently it would be best to get the train from Cambridge to York and then hire a cab from York to Skipton. I'd leave a couple of days in advance if I were you, as you've never been up that way before, have you? It's a 6.30 start so I shall meet you in the theatre foyer at around 6.00.

See you there, dear.

Don't let me down with the dinner jacket.


2nd September 1911

Old Ma sent me these in the post today;


1s 9d

Admit One
Amateur Production of Dr. Faustus
Skipton Little Theatre
North Yorkshire
Saturday September 9th 1911
Doors Open 6.00pm

Christopher Marlowe's Dr Faustus


This Programme Is Kindly Printed By Skipton Printing Company Ltd.
All Proceeds From The Purchase Of This Programme, And Refreshments
During The Interval Will Go To the Charity Established By Her Grace The Duchess of Craven
For The Poor Mothers, Babies And Children Of The Wilsden Park Estate And
The Surrounding District Of Craven And York.

Cast List

Dr. Faustus...Lord Wilsden

Mephistopheles...Lord Charles Fairfax

Chorus... Lady Eleanor Fairfax

Wagner...Mr. Sydney Patricks

Good/Evil Angel ...Lord Cheltenham

Helen of Troy...Lady Helen Fairfax

Other Parts Played By The
Good People Of Skipton.
Set And Costume Design By The
Local Children Of Skipton And The Children
Of The Wilsden Estate

What I want to know is this; why couldn't she have found one of her many friends to take with her? Why must I be her chaperone, lap-dog, interpreter or whatever else she needs in order to safely climb the social ladder? Now I understand why poor old Pops spends so much time at work; he doesn't want to be part of the old lady's perfectly bourgeois schemes. We are middle class and she should accept it; not titled, not heirs to a grand estate, nothing! Virginia says I should just play along with it, the lot of them do, but unlike me, they don't have to call this society harlot Mother! (I scoff at the thought!) She loves me, I know; she loves all of us; and we all love her equally in return but she is the most petulant person when it comes to going to the "right" parties where the "right" people are. Terribly annoying for myself, the poor soul who is trying to live his life out of the spotlight. I will go and buy me a new dinner jacket, considering the cost is not coming out of my pocket, I shall go to her stupid 'production for charity' and I shall come away having gained nothing (except a dinner jacket) and experienced no better than an appalling amateur production of Doctor. Faustus!

I hope to never set foot in Skipton again!

September 10th 1911

I cannot believe it. I have done it. Many people claim to have done it, far fewer have actually done so. I am now one of those few. I am one of those few people who have been swept up into the fluffy cloud of twitter-pated happiness. It's like a drug. No! It is better than a drug! It is love. That very simple thing that has baffled philosophers, poets, playwrights, astrologers, priests and kings for centuries, and probably will continue to do so for centuries to come. My mother's scheming has paid off in the most surprising way; I haven't told her yet; she would go quite mad.

In actual fact I haven't actually told my love that I in fact love her:

Cast List

Dr. Faustus...Lord Wilsden

Mephistopheles...Lord Charles Fairfax

Chorus...Lady Eleanor Fairfax

Wagner...Mr. Sydney Patricks

Good/Evil Angel ...Lord Cheltenham

Helen of Troy...Lady Helen Fairfax

That's her. At the bottom. Underlined. Helen. My Helen. Such a sweet taste on the tongue. Such an easy sight on the eyes. Quite right that she was playing the woman whose face 'launched a thousand ships' (to quote the quite wondrous Marlowe's writings). If her face, her beautiful face with the sharp little chin, the slender, aristocratic nose and the high, curved cheekbones, if that were to launch a thousand ships (which I have no doubt it would if such circumstances arose) I would be the young and rebellious Trojan prince Paris; the man brave enough (or stupid enough) to steal Helen, the most beautiful woman in history (My Helen, I hasten to add), to steal her away from her Spartan King and under the cover of darkness take her across the Aegean seas towards Troy. And my Helen is the most beautiful thing ever seen by man or beast; her hair is soft and falls in curls around her face, the colour of one of those brown mink stoles that Mother seems to be so fond of; this aristocratic shade of brown frames her astounding blue eye; the colour of the sea on a calm summers day; sea mist blue I think is the correct term.

I must find a way to contact her; to introduce myself. My socialist ways seem to be collapsing before my eyes as I fall head over heels in love for the youngest daughter of one of the most ancient Dukedoms in the British Isles. It is quite laughable. But it is no laughing matter, not the slightest. It is indeed very important that I see her again. I have to see her again. My life depends on it. My very life.

Rupert Chawner Brooke.

Done! I actually enjoyed writing that; I must point out that, like E&A, some character will be real and others completely fictional and in this story Rupert Brooke is the historical and Helen (and all the Fairfaxes) are fictional. Did you like the epistolary element? As I said I will combine both epistolary and normal writing styles. So the next chapter will establish Rupert and introduce Helen, who is essentially the thread running through this LOOONG story and also her brother Jack Wilsden. Thanks for reading guys!