From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 98)

As is the nature of such things, it is very fashionable to smoke.  I can’t see the attraction myself. Adherents tell me of the exhilaration of the first intake of smoke in the morning. That deep draw into the lungs supposedly giving one a buoyancy of the soul. As someone who has had to be on reconnaissance for a significant amount of their working life, I can only say that smoke from any kind of fire quickly loses its appeal. Tobacco and wood may be different substances, but the after-effect of their combustion is a long-lasting reek. One, that if I never smell it again, I will not miss. It reminds of those long weeks on a mission when soaking in a bath is but a distant dream.

Of course, should I wish to feel heroic, I could indulge in heroin – so called for making weak men feel like lions. However, my favourite way of feeling heroic is sitting by my own hearth with a glass of brandy and reflecting on my actions during my last mission. It is astounding how fondly one may remember actions which, in the moment, were frantic, angry, desperate, or less than wise, but by the familiar glow of a roaring fire, become positively rosy.

Cocaine, I dismiss out of hand. Inhaling a toxic powder directly through the mucus membranes into the brain? I may not be a licensed medical practitioner, but it strikes me as foolish beyond belief. I have a fine mind, and I suspect a highly complex and perfectly formed set of lobes. After all, I speak more languages than the average person can name. I do not, in any way, wish to damage my fine organ.

I have referred before to the drinking of wine and brandy. Of course, there are occasions when I must have a strong head for my work, carousing with the highest and the lowest. However, my preference is only to have the occasional glass of excellent brandy at home after a mission has been successfully completed. Other than that, I am content to take decent wines and spirits to White Orchards to drink at Christmas. I prefer less alcohol, but better vintages. I never become inebriated. I know far too many secrets to allow myself to become compromised in such a fashion.

But I do have my addiction, of sorts, and I must own it. My addiction is undoubtedly the fairer sex. I do not refer simply to activities beneath the bed covers, but simply the company and conversation of women. I admire beauty, but I am quite happy to do this at a distance. A woman who combines intelligence, an interesting personality, and a pleasing demeanour is alluring beyond doubt. Make the lady beautiful as well and I am drawn to her as any drug addict is to his stash. I must frequently be mindful of this as it is a perfect way for an enemy to sabotage any of my missions. This is why it is my duty to ensure that I always have such ladies to return to, after a mission – ones I have suitably vetted, and who ensure I am not distracted from my business for the Crown. Little do they know that in pleasing me they are ensuring the safety of our great country. I am ever so grateful to them.