Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, plant. I am still working on my Regency story. I am planning to kick its rear and finish in time to start something new for NaNoWriMo. Wish me luck!

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Daniel never thought he would find himself here again. His stomach obviously did not either since it was protesting as loud as his brain.

He wanted nothing more than to dash out of the parlor and down the steps to the street. Of course, he knew he could not do that. He was a grown man and had responsibilities to this family of his, much as he wished he did not. He looked yearningly toward the plant in the corner near the long windows overlooking the street. He used to hide there when he was a child and try to avoid the punishments his mother would mete out when Nanny reported misconduct to her. He always seemed to bear the brunt of his mother’s rage even when both he and his brother violated some rule of the house. His sister never got called down to the parlor at all. She spent her whole life being perfect.

Daniel snorted. Hardly. But Mother never knew—or if she did, she never punished the girl.

“Are you all right, Your Lordship?” The solicitor, Timmons asked.

His new status was going to take some getting used to. Captain was a term of respect from his crew, but Earl was altogether different. “Yes. I am fine. Just some memories flooding in. It has been an age since I was in this room.”

“So I understand. I know you went to war, but when you returned to England, you disappeared.” Timmons shook his head. “Never understood it, but I suppose you had your reasons.”

Not that he thought it was any of the man’s business, but Daniel responded. “A second son is expected to make his own way in the world. When I had to resign my Army commission due to my injuries, I bought a ship and became a trader. I heard of the birth of two sons to my brother and, as I was now certain not to be needed, I built a life at sea.”

“And tragedy struck the two infants and now your brother.”

The door opened and Daniel’s mother strode in. “And chances are, Timmons, this so-called son of mine would never have entered this parlor again if he had not been declared the earl as his brother’s heir.”

“Hello, Mother. I see you are just as charming as you ever were.” His stomach protested again. Being near this woman was painful. Always had been. He had never been good enough and now it was as if he were a twelve year old boy again. Standing in front of her, fearful of the rod.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt orange. I am still in the never-ending Regency story. I know where it’s going, but having a hard time getting it down with all the stuff happening in my world.

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“That lass would forgive you anything. She worships you.”

“I know and I wish she did not. I am a broken man and I cannot give her what she wants. I cannot.”

“Not my place to tell you different, but I think you should think it over. She loves you and I believe you love her.”

Daniel stared at him for a moment in shock. “Yes, you have. Overstepped, that is.”

Jeremiah moved back and raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “Forget I said it. Forget it.”

Daniel nodded once and spun around. He stalked off toward the gangway, tripping on an orange cat sprawled on the deck. “Confounded animal. Why must you always be underfoot?”

His bosun laughed. “You call him confounded until he’s cuddled up with you on the aft deck when you cannot sleep.”

“Over his shoulder, Daniel called out, “He’s just another shipmate. The chief mouser.”

As he made his way to shore, he could hear Jeremiah talking to the cat, “Just ignore him, Marmalade, he’s a grouch today. Missing his lady fair.” 

As he stepped onto the quay, Daniel allowed himself a small smile. He did love that cat. He just did not want the crew to know how soft he was when it came to the animal. They already made fun of him for naming the thing Marmalade, but he did that for sentimental reasons as well. It was his sister’s favorite thing in the world and he liked being reminded of her even if he could not see her. 

A strong wave of pain hit him as her face came to mind. Choosing as he had to leave his secure family life sometimes brought him very low. He still did not see how he could make his way back into the fold, so he shoved his sentimentality aside and strode on, determined to meet Brandy and try to undo whatever hurt he had caused by missing their appointed meeting time. He was sure she would be hurt and sad. He could not stand it when he made mistakes and hurt people he cared about. 

He did not dare think of the word love. Jeremiah was wrong. He could not love. That sentiment had left his heart years ago and he guarded himself from allowing it to return. Never again. Never. 

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt fall. I am still rocking along in the Regency story. Hoping to pick up the pace on this sucker. LOL

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Jane’s mind raced as she worked. Since Johnny was clearly not even afraid to bother her while the Captain was in port, he was not going to leave her alone ever. Her plan to run had to be moved up. In fact, she would leave tomorrow. She wanted to stay to continue to spend time with the Captain but he was proving to be not as reliable as he had been in the past.

Confused and sad at how it seemed her love’s feelings for her had changed, she worked distracted and failed to pay close attention to what she was doing.

She placed a full mug of ale on a table—or she intended to—but she missed the surface. She watched it fall and land on the lap of one of the sailors, splashing his breeches as well as his boots.

The man leapt to his feet and screamed, “Watch yerself, wench.”

Fighting back tears, Jane tried to wipe the liquid from him. Until she realized she was patting him in an inappropriate place.

As she leapt back in horror, her employer yelled across the room, “That’s coming out of your wages, Brandy. And I oughta fire you. Right now.”

It did not matter if he fired her since she was planning to leave on the mail coach the next day, but she needed to keep all her wages to pay the fare and set herself up in a new town.

“I will pay it.” A man stepped forward with coins in his hand. He slammed them onto the counter top.

Jane looked at him, shocked and concerned. What would be his price for saving her?

She stared for a moment trying to place where she might know him from.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to a picture prompt. I am still in the Regency story. Snippets are limited to 300 words this week. Mine is very unedited. 🙂

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Jane’s gaze took in the whole tavern again. She had been disappointed when her captain did not come to her boarding house to escort her to work. He usually did when he was in port. In fact, she was sure he said he would be back when he left her that afternoon for wherever he was going to spend the afternoon.

She was almost late arriving for her shift because he did not appear. She had had to run and, in the process, one end of her scarf fell off her shoulder and dragged through the grimy, smelly street and even into some puddle that should not have existed as the day had been quite sunny. Once in a while, as she walked past where it hung on the hook on the wall, she caught a whiff of something nasty and she was pretty sure it might be horse manure. How will I ever get it clean? It’s so fragile and I cannot ruin it as it belonged to my mother.

As she worked, she prayed whatever it was that it would be an easy matter to remove it. She also fretted over where the man she loved could be.

“Get over there and clean that table. Those men left ten minutes ago, Brandy. Candles still lit and half-filled ale should not be sitting there that long.” He employer frowned. “There will be a crowd coming in since the entertainments will soon be over at Vauxhall. Our ale is cheaper and needs to be plentiful with empty chairs to lure in the men who have already lost most of their coins on bear-baiting. They always want to get drunk on the cheap stuff after they get excited there. Get that table cleared now.”