Jillian Chantal

This week, the writer’s of Tuesday Tales are writing to the work prompt sticky. I am still int he Regency story but I do see light at the end of the tunnel now. YAY! Long time coming, for sure.

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Once she was seated, Jane looked at both of the men. “Since you invited me to accompany you to this estate you mentioned last night and I have agreed, can you both promise me you will not try to change my mind about moving away from London?” She held her hand up. “And that does not mean you can try to force me to remain on that estate either. I need you to understand that I make the decisions about my life. Me. Only me. If you do not plan to honor that, let me know now and I will be on my way with Miss Smith on the next mail coach.”

“We both promise, don’t we?” The captain glanced over at his bosun. “Agreed?”

Jane slapped her hand on the table top. “I see you trying not to smile. I warn you, I am serious about this.” She lifted her hand. “Someone must have spilled ale here. It’s sticky. I would never allow this at the tavern where I worked. It is a shame when a barmaid does not take pride in her work.”

Her captain—who she still had to get used to calling my lord—did smile then. He addressed Jeremiah, “This is why she is so special. She takes pride in all she does. Even mopping up messes slovenly men make.”

“Stop teasing me. I am being serious.”

The proprietor brought over a trencher of sliced bread along with som ham and eggs for Jane.

Once he was gone, the captain said, “I have hired a carriage to take us all to London.”

“London? Surely that estate you spoke of is not in town. I do not recall any that are, in fact. Why have you changed your mind about the estate?” Her heart sank. She was not going to return to London. She had made her decision not to return there so now she would not be able to spend those last few days she had allowed herself before never seeing the new earl again. She took a bite of her ham.

“I have news that might interest you about London.”

She swallowed and stood. “I will get my baggage and wait for the mail coach. I am not returning to London.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Mint. I am still in the Regency but I am determined to finish it this week. I plan to do NaNoWriMo so I need to push on with this and wrap it up before November 1. So, next week will probably be the last of this one since we post these Monday evenings. My heroine is on the run and has had an encounter with an oaf.

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Back at the carriage, she sat on a fallen tree limb and ran her hand idly over the wild mint growing at the base of the tree. She thought about the last weeks of her life. How she had gone from happily—well, mostly happily—working with Bessie for Mr. Baines and waiting patiently for her sea captain to be in port to being chased out of her home by one sailor who would not leave her alone to today with a man trying to take advantage of her, was a mystery.

Except it is not, is it? This is not the first time such a man has acted in such a way. What is wrong with me that these kind of men are always interfering with me?

She idly wondered why the captain had never tried such actions, but then felt ashamed. Of course her captain was an honorable man. He had never done anything to cause her to fear him or wonder if he would treat her in a way to bring shame upon her.

In a few moments, the others returned with the villain between them, still sputtering and yelling. “You will regret this. I tell you, you will regret this. You don’t know who I am. You will pay for these indignities on my person.”

The driver led the group to a large tree and they pushed Mustache Man to the ground. “Sit there and shut your mouth before I gag you.”

“Gag me? You’ll regret that for the rest of your life. In fact, you are going to already regret this day for a very long time to come. Wait until I get free, you’ll see then. Oh, yes, you will.”

Jane was not sure how long she could stand to listen to the man and hoped the gag would appear soon. She stifled a giggle. Seeing that man gagged would be the best part of the day.

This week on Tuesday Tales, we are doing picture prompts again. Each post it limited to 300 words. I did 302 because I couldn’t find a better place to stop. OOPS! I am still in the Regency, but I am getting closer to THE END. Big YAY there.

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Jane took her leave, hoping to soon be settled in a new place and able to afford to have her things sent to her. She hated most to leave the blanket her mother had made. So little remained of the woman Jane loved with all her heart, it was like ripping out her own heart to leave behind things her mother had touched and loved. Even though she knew it was merely property, it was all she had left of her home. The home she missed so much.

She stiffened her spine, carried her two bags and headed to the depot to catch the mail coach to her unknown future.

The stars were still out and she looked around her forlornly as she took her leave of what had become a dear area to her. Even her favorite tree seemed sad and alone in the light given off by the early morning heavens.

To her surprise, when she arrived just as the first rays of sunlight hit the horizon, there were quite a number of people already waiting to board.

The driver looked over the crowd and pointed to several. “You can ride inside. We will have to alternate inside and outside riders. If everyone wants to go, two will have to ride up top with me.”

Jane did not mind riding outside. It was a nice day. She raised her hand. “I can ride on top. I do not mind.”

The driver nodded. “It’ll be rough up there. You don’t look like someone who is used to hardship.”

“I am a barmaid. I can ride with you.”

His glance slid up and down, taking her in. “I guess you look sturdy enough.”

A man with a massive mustache and a monocle said, “Let’s get going. No need to coddle the girl.”

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.