If one wishes to avoid having to flee into self-exile while awaiting the diminishment of scandal, then I must say that one needs to pay more attention to the sorts of parties their aunt chooses to hold in their sitting rooms.
The sort of self-exile which would keep one from updating their journal for some days.
Now that one could blame the exile entirely upon their aunt’s habits of serving scones topped with Prisoner’s Honey. Or of encouraging rival spies to fight a duel with the carving knives they lifted from the silver cabinet. I do wish she hadn’t embarassed that poor actress so, the scandal will likely ruin her career and I was looking forward to seeing her re-enacting the scene of Leda and the Swan on stage.
But all that happened at the party aside, one must on reflection see this as the result of a series of behaviors that they had been ignoring for far too long.
Or, to put it another way, if one is to dine and take to the dance floor regularly at the Brass Embassy then one should also take the time to at least put in the occasional appearance and pay a little lip service to the Church. Preferably before the scandal has reached the point that a gossip-monger at the service pointing one out and whispering a bit too loudly to be proper in a place of worship doesn’t itself lead to one having to flee.
All that aside, I must say, the Tomb Colony was a remarkably restful place. For being the walking dead they do play quite a good game of chess, the architecture was impressive in how old some of the pieces were (far pre-dating the fallof London!), and someone must have arranged to have been buried along with their wine cellar as the vintage I tasted there was surely not bottled in the dark of the Neath but had once been kissed by the sun.
For all that though, I am grateful that the scandal died down as quickly as it did. I have business to attend to here in Fallen London. A cheesemaker to find, a spirifier to learn the secrets of, some urchins I have befriend looking to me to help them with their vengeace, as well as needing a truly stiff drink to toss back once I finish that all because the more I probe into the secrets around London and my lost memories… The I find that Laudunum on it’s own doesn’t take enough of the edge off.
– Matthew Hartmont
( the start of a journal about my character in http://echobazaar.failbettergames.com/ )
( if you play and want another friend in game, look for me at @Hythian on twitter )