Jillian Chantal

Sorry I have been AWOL the last couple of weeks. I had to have emergency oral surgery and had a rough time getting well enough to focus on anything. It kicked my rear… in addition to my mouth.  🙂

I am still in the Christmas Regency story.  Each post this week is limited to 300 words. Check out the other tales here.

Charles walked around the cemetery with his gloved hands in his greatcoat. He wore two scarves his old, blind, nanny made to keep him warm. They were a jumble of mismatched yarn but since the woman was almost the only person who’d ever shown him love, he wore them proudly. Woe betide anyone who commented negatively on them. He was sure he’d receive a new one for his Yuletide gift from her.

He shivered. It was a brutal winter already. I do not even want to consider how cold it will be in the new year.

Avoiding the priest of the small church had been easy this time. The man wasn’t a ninny. He had more sense than to be out in the graveyard on such a bitterly cold day.

Charles was relieved. He wished he could visit this place more often but he couldn’t afford to attract attention. Even though he presumed he was alone, he avoided the burial place he truly wanted to visit. He usually got within a few plots of the family mausoleum, but feared being found close to the actual place where his love was buried. Visiting even from a distance gave him comfort.

What he’d give to talk to his lover now. Charles snorted. “If that were possible, the conversation would never need to happen.”

Unbidden, tears flowed. They froze on his cheeks, making his face tight. He brushed them away. Lord knew he’d cried enough tears over the loss of his future with his beloved. Time to move on and accept life was not going to work out as they wished.

He turned to head back to the church to light a candle and warm up a bit. Maybe he would have a word with the priest after all. Not the truth, though.