This week we found Caroline and she was more than eager to give our sponsored beverage a try!

Well then, it was dreadfully unpleasant the last little while there, sneaking around and hiding. In the snow, I’ll add! And I should say, it’s been a great deal uncomfortable in these wretched clothes. And my hair! Oh how dreadful it looks now. I should be the disgrace of my family and half of France if I can’t get someone to look at my poor, neglected locks soon. Goodness, if Father could see what trouble this story has put me through, he may well die on the spot. In fact, I’m certain that if anyone back home knew about the deplorable state that I have allowed myself to fall into, my reputation as a wealthy, high born heiress might well be in jeopardy! I shudder to think of the gossip hounds and their wagging tongues. We’ll simply have to see to it that neither he nor anyone else never finds out about this whole affair and the best course of action in this case is to simply forget it happened. The best method for forgetting unpleasant details, I have found, is through the miracle of alcohol.

Now, a lady such as myself understands that wine is always preferable a dinner and during the day, sherry is a great warm embrace when it is needed most, particularly when your darling brother is making a grand mistake that you may have to kill someone over. This was back home, however. Here in this dreary, cold town, the law of the land is somewhat annoyingly concerned with the drinking habits of its citizens. Seeing as wine is more or less impossible to get a decent bottle of without being in the house of your fellow society people and sherry is a distant memory, one must make due with what she can. Thus, when given the opportunity to try this lovely looking alcoholic beverage, naturally I couldn’t resist.

As you can see, it comes in a rather confusing bottle. Slightly smaller than a wine bottle, I should say. Quite a bit smaller. But if one is being practical, it does allow one to drink an entire bottle to herself without having to share. I quite like that idea, don’t you? And as for the taste, when one has been subsisting on bathtub gin and wood alcohol for the better part of a month, I should assume that it would be a vast improvement.

Oh gracious me! It’s carbonated and sickeningly sweet! Oh what rot! No I shall not take that back! What manner of horrifying concoction is this swill? You mean to tell me that there’s real wine in this drivel? I should think not! I’m being handed the ingredients now and I tell you that I do not believe there is more than a single drop of alcohol in this sickening mixture. Wine, fruit juice, sugar and carbonated water. Bloody hell, it’s a gin rickey with a ghastly mix of sugar in it! Why on earth would you bring this to me?

You swine! It was a trick, wasn’t it? Vivian put you up to this, didn’t she, the meddling harlot! She’s trying to poison me, isn’t she? You all are! Oh but I’m too clever for such tricks, aren’t I? I see right through your attempts to stop me. I will find a way to that home wrecker and I shall do so very soon. You’ll see. You’ll all see! I’m not through with you, Vivian! I will seek my revenge on you for giving me this utterly vile excuse for a drink that they call- what was it again?

The Spirited County Cocktail Wine Cooler? Ugh! Unhand me at once, you beast! I’m warning you, I am going to get my revenge if it’s the last thing I do. I will rain my vengeance down upon you…

Thank you, Caroline, for totally insulting the sponsor. We’ll return you to your caravan now and catch up with you later on during the return to the Garden of Malice!

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