Jillian Chantal

Sorry I’ve been missing Tuesday Tales. I’ve been out of town a lot and am even heading out again on Wednesday. I haven’t been writing much so I went back in my Regency story and grabbed some paragraphs that include the word prompt this week. This is closer to the beginning of the story than I’ve been sharing before.  The word this week is dirt.

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Inside, as she waited for her parents to be announced, she glanced around at the glittering crowd. There was no shortage of jewels and tiaras here. It was too much dazzle for her taste, but she knew from growing up in this world—even in the periphery—that the women here took the competition to be the best and brightest in the room very seriously. She’d never understand the importance of that. Many times, she wondered why she was born into this way of life when she’d have been content to be the wife of a sheepherder.

Honora repressed a giggle. It was clear there were no sheepherders here. There were probably a number of earls present who owned sheep but they certainly wouldn’t get dirt on their own hands by shearing the animals themselves. What she loved about being around animals was touching them, talking to them and making sure they were well looked after. She’d never be successful as the wife of the landowner who only made sure the farms on his estate were tenanted and collected the rents. Not that she need worry about that. If no eligible bachelor spoke to you at a ball, chances were, you would end up a spinster as your sister predicted.

Determined to find a place to hunker down and pass the time, she spied a quiet corner with a big green plant in a lovely urn. There were some chairs nearby and one could easily be moved behind it with no one being the wiser.

“Meet us at midnight for dinner,” her mother said as soon as they were cleared into the ballroom. She winked at both girls. “Unless you have a young man ask you to partake with him.”

Charlotte smiled as two men headed straight toward her. “I’m sure I’ll see you when the ball is over, Mama. I’m positive I’ll have many offers for company at the meal.” She glanced in Honora’s direction. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with one daughter.”

There was no reason for her sister to always be mean to her, but it was like she couldn’t help it. Honora missed the days before the marriage quest. They used to get along when they were in the country. There were a few girls from the village who they played with for a time, but then Charlotte would lure them away and Honora would be left out again.

Now the sisterly bond was stretched too far and they hardly ever spent any time together. Maybe when Charlotte married, she’d become kinder.

Honora shook her head at that fancy. Charlotte was Charlotte. No man would stand a chance if he thought he could change her. That was probably why the two ardent admirers she was sure would propose last season left London altogether.