After racking my brain for something interesting to say today, I decided just to share with you all the first part of my story for our writer's group. This is about a fourth of what has been written so far. I'm not exactly sure when I'll get a chance to finish it, between homework and novel work. But maybe if I get some pleas for more it will go quicker...
And the whole town was stirred because of them.
~ Ruth 1:19
The good ladies of Little Wheaton were all in a dither.
“Did you hear?” said Mrs. Morrow to her sister, Lady Neversham. “Our cousin, Mary Emmerson is coming home at last!”
“Good gracious!” Lady Neversham lowered her spectacles and stared at Mrs. Morrow with proper astonishment. “And still in mourning too! But I suppose she hadn’t a choice, with those filthy French peasants running around the country with la Guillotine.”
Mrs. Morrow nodded. “Mr. Morrow said she was fortunate to make it out of Calais with her head! She was rowed out in the darkest hour of night without a single satchel with her. What a pity. I was so counting on her for the latest fashions.”
“Tsk,” said Lady Neversham. “I don’t approve of French styles. To much rouge and too little cloth.”
“Of course, you are quiet right,” Mrs. Morrow agreed hastily. “And besides, that is hardly the most shocking part about it!”
Lady Neversham raised her eyebrows in curiosity. Mrs. Morrow leaned in obligingly and whispered:
“She is bringing her French daughter-in-law with her!”
“Good heavens! I thought we were well rid of that association!”
“Oh, it’s quite true, I assure you,” said Mrs. Morrow. “Mr. Morrow had it in a letter from Mary herself! They’re on their way up from London now, and will be here just in time for Lord Robert’s Harvest Ball.”
Lady Neversham sighed. “How tiresome. I hope this daughter-in-law is not unusually pretty. The men do chase so after beautiful foreign women and I was hoping to finally get my Eliza married off.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” said Mrs Morrow with a knowing look. “They say her brothers are leaders among the Jacobins. I doubt any of our gentlemen will care to associate themselves with anarchy.”
“Ah. Poor Mary. To have such a girl for a daughter-in-law. One would have thought she’d have the decency to leave after poor Charles died.”
“Dear Charles. He was always such a fine lad.”
“Yes, I used to hope he’d marry my Eliza.”
“I could never see why he wouldn’t. Eliza is such a beauty.”
Lady Neversham nodded. “A regular siren that French woman must be. And a widow, no less! Men always seem more entranced by beautiful widows. I pray to God that she won’t ensnare any of our good gentlemen of Little Wheaton!”