For years here, The Palace has been the center of Balkan intrigue first initiated by Boris. It evolved, as all Balkan adventures do, into a roller coaster ride of plots, mysterious disappearances, and the ever-present threat of assassination (in itself, a rather exciting way to start every day). The Court is now assembling into its former great power, with the return of Captain Jeremy and, therefore, Order. The peasants are trembling with the Jeremy's return to command; it was difficult to maintain "a presence" while depending upon a leader wearing a teal-colored gown. I have regained a certain amount of confidence both with Jeremy and Mr. Astor at my side; Mrs. Stuyvestant-Fish still holds the left flank and The Baroness Seitzinger is always in the rear guard. Fringed Capri pants can be worn with abandon and nearly naked boys can frolic again, unhindered. Feathers are being added to hats without second thought.

All is forming in place for the arrival of The Great Northern Court, headed by the the dual-powers of The Countess Bedelia, of Transylchuetts, and my sister from Newport, The Countess duBarry. I am sure those two power-mongers think they will conquer our noble land just by arriving with their trunks of gowns, chests of jewels, an ample amount of fawning courtiers, blackamoors, hat-makers, face powder masters, wrinkle removers, shoe custodians, and the like.

They have another thought coming.