Wednesday 18th June 1808

Dear Diary,
I greeted Mr Wynde with a fix-ed smile as he drew up in his gig this morning. I declined his offer to ride with him declaring my desire to travel by Python. It was a fair distance to the first property just outside the village of Nether Minge, a place I have never entered before nor hope to again.
'Minging House' was set in a paltry three acres and it's dusty rooms had a pervading feline odour that lingered in my nasal passages for some time after our departure. Mr Wynde needed little dissuasion and we journeyed on to Upper Nutley to view Hardon Hall.
We were shown around by a fellow caressing a ferret. I must say it was commodious and Mr Wynde seemed quite taken with it. (The Hall, not the ferret.) The fellow with the ferret seemed quite taken aback when Mr Wynde asked to view the cellar. He ventured down alone and we could hear him banging and clattering around as I tried to make conversation with the 'ferret fellow'. I fear conversing with the ferret might have been easier. We stood in silence for a few moments listening to Mr Wynde exploring below, when my eyes were drawn to a movement in the fellows breeches. Something was stirring and moving in an upward fashion and I gasped when a head popped up over his belt....another ferret! It popped back in again and wriggled back down and I saw the fellow smile for the first time and his eyes rolled slightly up into his head in pleasure.
Our final visit was to Netherwood Lodge, not five miles from Thrushcock Grange and as soon as Mr Wynde stepped out of his gig and looked up at it's ivy covered facade I knew he was smitten with it. The owners were charming and most welcoming. I busied myself in the garden whilst they toured the inside. After awhile he called me in. "Mr Austen, do you not feel at home here?" he asked excitedly.
"I fear I just saw a rat in the garden," I replied, helpfully," and look at those mole hills upon the lawn."
I was quite pleased with my handiwork for I doubt a mole could have made a more effective job.
"Rats and moles can be dealt with readily," he beamed, "I think I have found my new home and so close to your own. I shall be able to call upon you and Jane almost everyday!"
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, and slipping a hand around his waist reached down and cupped his right buttock and pulled him towards me. Then with my lips almost touching his, I breathed;
"Oh, Gustav! I cannot tell you what that would mean to me."
I have never seen a gig driven so fast down a country lane and nor, I suspect, had the owners of Netherwood Lodge. They looked stunned at his sudden departure. I shook my head sadly and nodded in the direction of the garden;
"Did you know you had moles?" I mentioned , ruefully. "Sadly, Mr Wynde, has an abiding fear of moles since being savaged by one as a child."
There was nothing fix-ed about the smile upon my face as I cantered home.