Sunday 7th September 1808

Dear Diary,
I am returned from Manchesterford.
Late upon Friday I received an anonymous epistle which was both revealing and shocking!
What I am about to relate to you now must never venture from these pages for if it did...well, it would kill my Mother.
The epistle warned that an attempt was afoot to blackmail my Father, who upon a recent trip to Manchesterford, had misguidedly entered the 'correctional facility' set up by our own, fairly recently departed and much respected school mistress, Miss Grace Quirrel. The letter heavily intimated that it was Miss Quirrel, herself, that was 'behind' this extortion and asked me to excuse the pun.
I left early upon Saturday and rode Python hard to Manchesterford in an attempt to save the family name. I had no idea as to where I might find the place but as fortune would have it the first gentleman I accosted was well acquainted with it. I thanked him generously and as I walked away he called after me, saying,
"Ask for Violet the Violator. She's worth it."
I cannot say it was in a fashionable part of the city and I was forced to tread carefully for fear of ruining my shoes. The door was opened, at my knocking, by an elderly woman, who looked me up and down in complete disinterest and then intoned; "Who's been a naughty boy then? Yers best come in."
As soon as the door closed behind me, an anguished cry came from behind one of the doorways in the hallway. The old woman opened it slightly and peered in for a moment. An unpleasant aroma wafted out and I could hear heavy breathing, then the old woman said "Don't forget to clean that mess up after will you, Violet?" She shut the door and muttered, "Bloody incontinent donkeys!"
She showed me into a room with a variety of ill matched chairs.
"I have come to see Miss Quirrel," I said.
"Good choice," said the woman, "she's nearly finished 'er two o'clock. 'Ave a seat while yer still can."
Some five minutes later a red faced gentleman limped past the doorway and soon after a bell rang out.
"Mistress will see yer now," said the woman and indicated a room down the hallway.
I opened the door and entered.
"Get out! Have you no manners? Knock first!" Shrieked a voice in the gloomy interior.
I stepped back hurriedly and closed it again and knocked as requested.
I hardly recognised the woman that opened it. I gasped at the sight for what she was wearing barely covered her dignity. She gasped in return and tried to close the door but I prevented her with my foot.
"Miss Quirrel, I must have words with you and request that you desist from this scurrilous extortion of my Father."
She sighed dramatically and then placing her hands upon her hips and with a confident grin spreading across her face said, " Or what, Mr Austen? What are you going to do about it?"
She had me. I confess I had not thought that far ahead.
"Well, I.......er.......I will................" I was despearately thinking of an unequivocal reply when a familiar voice said;
"Wine?" I turned and gasped again at the sight of Bigas Cojones, standing in the hallway, wearing only a bright red leather codpiece. A woman, also barely dressed, emerged from a room behind him leading a donkey. He smiled uncomfortably and his face grew almost as red as his scant attire.
"Would you 'beliebe' me if I was to tell you I 'habe' been practising a new 'bersion' of the 'Natibity' with my friend 'Biolet' here?" he smiled.
It was an unexpected and uncomfortable reunion but happily fortuitous, for Dr Cojones was able to 'resolbe' the problem with Miss Quirrel. It seems he has many 'friends' in high places and a few words from him would have seen Miss Quirrel ruined for 'eber'.
I spent a happy evening in the company of my good friend Mr Griffiths and we enjoyed the thespic delight of Miss Alison Steedman in a play by Alan Bonnet.
The day went well.