Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales have a word prompt again. I am working on my Regency era story.

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The next day, still feeling sorry for herself and how her life had changed, Jane walked to the ale house for work. The morning rain had almost stopped by the time she had to leave her small room, but there was enough drizzle in the air to make the trudge uncomfortable. To take her mind off her troubles and the rain seeping down the back of her blouse, she thought about the last Christmas her mother was alive and her brothers were home from the war. What she wouldn’t give for the warmth of the fire and coziness of the drawing room right now. The tiny fairy cakes her mother loved were always iced to perfection and if she focused hard enough, Jane could almost taste the sweetness of the sugar and feel the crunch as she bit into the concoction. She let out a deep sigh. A cup of syllabub would go down a treat as well.

“Stop. It is no use to dream. All that is over. Your life must go on and this is the only way.”

She passed a group of young boys, dirty, in ragged clothing, and probably hungry.  They jeered at her. “Off to serve the beer?”

Ignoring them, she kept walking. Every day they taunted her and every day, she let them. If they found joy in trying to get a reaction from her, they would not succeed making her temper rise. Besides, they were destined to earn a small wage as she did either as fish mongers or barrow sellers, so who was she to begrudge them a little harmless fun? Lord knew the people of these streets did not have much joy in their lives. She only had joy herself when her captain was in port and visited her.