Purple?

The Brothers Carstone are as different as two brothers possibly could be. One is studious and has made a great success of his London legal practise, (to nobody's surprise here) and is a firm believer in duty and tradition. The other is Mr Miles Carstone....

Both brothers are to co-host a dinner party this evening for the local great and good. Their father, Sir Geoffrey, believes it important that the heir (and dare I say, the spare) play a greater role in the local community. They spend so much time away from the ancestral home that they could probably stroll around the local village without being recognised. Perhaps the odd person might catch a glimpse of their noble profile in the early morning light and find it familiar, but few could confidently identify the sons of the baronet from the 'Big House.' Theirs is a London life. Carstone but a week-end retreat and a place where the family roam.

Mr Thomas arrived early this morning, punctual as ever. We spoke for twenty minutes in the Drawing Room, discussing the plans for this evening. Mr Thomas is a most thorough man. It was decided that the festivities should be simple but elegant. I am not sure that Mr Thomas enjoys the social aspect of his role; he appears to see it more of a duty than a pleasure. We inspected the guest list. It seemed rather disparate to me. Several of Mr Miles' friends have been invited. They are not local, or great, or, I hesitate to say it, particularly good, as far as I have been informed, but perhaps that was the carrot dangled before Mr Miles to entice him to Carstone for the evening. We are expecting 18 to sit for dinner. No guests are staying the night, which simplifies matters.

Mr Miles arrived not long ago. There is a wonderful refreshing breeze whenever he appears. I have known him since he was young, and have a lot of affection for him. I do however concede that what I describe as a 'refreshing breeze' is often seen by others as a 'howling gale'. Things are rarely dull in his company. He does have his little eccentricities. It is little wonder that he gets on so well with Lady Blanche. The weather has been quite kind over the past few days and there is little sign of a downpour today, and yet, while sweeping into the Entrance Hall this morning, Mr Miles handed me an umbrella. This was curious enough in itself. If I inform the gentle reader that the umbrella happened to be purple in colour I am sure my surprise (shock is too strong a word when applied to umbrellas) will be appreciated.

After gingerly placing the umbrella in the stand, and assuring that Mr Miles was settled, I sought the company of My Master's valet, Mr Copeland. I found him in the Servant's Hall locked in conversation with Mrs Berry. Copeland was not surprised by the purple umbrella, even though his expression suggested a distaste for it. In fact, he knew its history, and the Boswell of Brollies enlightened me. Apparently, about a fortnight ago, Mr Miles attended a cocktail party in Knightsbridge, where everything, from the paint on the walls, to the attire of the staff, was coloured a rather garish purple. He greatly enjoyed this 'purple party' and picked up the umbrella for the occasion. He has grown rather fond of it, and it is now quite as a cane to him. I am sure it is only a phase, and it will pass.

The Bishop is due to arrive later to have lunch with Sir Geoffrey. My Master is not staying for dinner; he has a prior engagement.

Wendy has handed in her notice. It has come as quite a shock to us all. I must ponder the matter carefully. She has been very badly let down by a young man who works on Home Farm. It seems rather dramatic to give up her position here for that reason. I am sure she would regret such a drastic move. Her heart seems quite broken. I used to be known as something of a heartbreaker myself at one time (although I confess that was rather a long time ago. I am more likely to break a hip than a heart these days) but was ultimately unlucky in love. I am therefore sympathetic to Wendy's plight. I gave up on the possibility of marriage several years ago. As a notable Welsh peer once said: "I have stood on the precipice of marriage for so long, I can now peer over the edge, without fear of falling."

The Wendy matter must be resolved soon.

NB: I was very pleased to find an image of a purple umbrella to add to this post. It is not quite the same as Mr Miles', but, purple umbrellas are purple umbrellas, and a little illustration DOES help matters along, I always think.