Jillian Chantal

This week, the authors of Tuesday Tales are writing to the prompt .  I am still working on my Regency Christmas story.

Check out the other tales here.

Once inside, Charles glanced around as he took off his overcoat. Little sprinkles of sleet hit the floor. He ran a hand through his hair and more of them fell. He was still chilled to the bone and grateful George found a table near the fire.

I wonder why he wanted to come here. I don’t see anything unusual about the place. George led him to where he’d placed his own coat.

As soon as they were both seated, a young man with an apron on approached. “What may I get for you gentlemen?”

Once they’d ordered—pints of ale for each—and the waiter left, Charles asked, “What’s so special about this place?” He peered around. It was hard to see as the alehouse seemed to be short some candles.

“Haven’t you noticed there are no women here?”

A bug crossed the scarred wooden tabletop.  Charles almost reached out and swatted it, but thought better of it. No use getting the grime on his hands. I certainly won’t choose to eat anything here.

“Most places like this don’t have woman patrons. I did notice there were no doxies outside waiting on men to come out and that the person who took our order is a man, but I cannot say I took particular note of it.” Charles cocked his head at George and frowned. “Is this somehow important?”

George’s face seemed flushed, but Charles couldn’t really tell in the dim light. It also could be because it was certainly warm near the fire.

Their ales arrived at that moment and George heaved a sigh.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Charles asked.

Taking a big gulp of his ale, George shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I made a mistake. Forgive me.”

Puzzled, Charles didn’t know what to say. What does George mean? Dragging me all the way across town and then telling me it doesn’t matter? “What game is this, my friend?”

“I apologize. I’ll pay for your hackney home.”

Still wondering why he’d been required to come all this way in the freezing cold, Charles sipped his tepid ale and let his gaze run around the room.

When he noticed two men at a table near the back door locked in an embrace, he looked over at George with his eyebrows raised in shocked understanding.