Jillian Chantal

This week is a picture prompt. The writers of Tuesday Tales chose from a series of photos and are limited to 300 words.

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Downstairs, James searched the crowd. Still no sign of Honora. Her mother and Charlotte were in the group waiting to be escorted into dinner. He made his way to them. “Is Miss Honora coming down?”

“Why are you so worried about her? She’s never been one to like balls. I wouldn’t be surprised if she skipped it altogether,” Charlotte said.

“She’s a guest in my home and no one has seen her for hours. I’d like to know if she’s all right.”

“We haven’t seen her, Your Lordship,” Mrs. Marlowe said. “I confess, I’ve become a bit frightened.” She fiddled with the emerald choker at her neck.

It was past time to be frightened in James’s mind. He scoured the crowd for Hugh Spencer.

Spotting him, he excused himself to all the guests between him and his friend.

When he arrived at Hugh’s side, he said, “Miss Honora Marlowe has been missing since before midday. Will you assist me in finding her? I’ll have some of the men of the estate rounded up as well.”

“Of course. Immediately.” Hugh squeezed his wife’s arm. “”Excuse me, darling.”

“Certainly. Please find the poor child.”

James turned to find his mother to alert her to the situation.

Charlotte stood at his feet. In the way.

“Don’t make a big deal about this. She’s probably in the stables. She always goes to the horses when she’s upset.”

Remembering when he found her crying on Aloysius’s mane, he snapped his fingers. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

“Then send a footman to fetch her. No need in ruining the evening’s dancing.”

He stared at her in horror. How can she be so unkind? About her own sister.