Jillian Chantal

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

Be sure to check out the other tales here

Before the door opened, a cawing sound made Charles look up. A group of ravens flew over his head before soaring off into the sky. “Is it a bad omen for that kind of bird to fly almost into you?” He asked himself aloud before turning to walk away.  The black birds could not bode well for the conversation ahead of him. Better it had been doves or bluebirds but it was the wrong season for seeing those in the city.

He was too late to make his escape as he heard the door creaked open behind him. Sighing, Charles turned.

An elderly lady stood staring at him with a frown and a scowl. “How can I help you?”

Charles resisted the urge to ask her why she was being abrupt and behaving as if she had been inconvenienced by his rapping at her door. Instead, he turned on his charm. The one thing that never let him down. “Good day, lovely lady. I’m looking for my friend, Mr. Pettifer. I am given to understand he resides here.” Charles leaned on the door jamb and gave his best flirtatious smile. “Lucky fellow if he does. To have such a kind, gentle landlady.”

The lady in question blushed but frowned even deeper. “Are you trying to flatter me, sir?”

“Of course I am not. I always remark on a lady’s loveliness. I cannot help myself. Ask Mr. Pettifer if you do not trust me.”

She opened the door wider. “I am sure Mr. Pettifer would agree with anything you asked of him. Most all of his acquaintances are as bold as you. Singularly annoying.” She swept her arm to the side to allow him entry. “The parlor is on the left. First door. I’ll send for him to come down.”

Charles followed her inside and watched as she instructed a small, dark-haired maid to fetch George.

The moment of truth was upon him.