Bess's Creative Side: December 2014

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Percy and Jean--A Regency Romance, Prologue

Soft folds of pink chambray caught the eye of a worn, dull creature stepping on the cobblestones of Eden-by-the-Fluss, the tiny village gently situated on a small river. Her grey eyes drew hungrily toward the color, so contrasted to the browns of English winter. The material draped tantalizingly in the window of the fabric shop, suggesting spring, and all the delights of social gatherings where a gown of such color would be fitting.
Jean Babcock could only wish for such a gown. She knew it right there on the street that dismal day, as she headed for the little room in the attic of Widow Barrett where she could claim a narrow cot and a small wooden box that held everything in the world that belonged to her.
Jean was a lowly servant at Judge Prickett's estate, her station not meriting even a bed in the house. Early each day she tore herself from sleep to help with the wash, the garden, or whatever chores the housekeeper assigned her.
It was a hard life, but it could have been worse, Jean told herself fiercely.
Widow Barrett, a harsh old woman, suspected everyone of ill, but never could figure out enough about anyone to pin down evil doings. Instead she complained and gossiped, driving potentially promising patrons away. Jean had no choice but to put up with her unpleasant personality. Widow Barrett's attic room was the only place in the village she could think of affording on her meager pennies.
It was just enough to get by.
Deep in her apron pocket was a chunk of brown bread, given to her by the cook at the Judge's house. This cook had a sliver of compassion in her heart for Jean, always saving a bite for her to smuggle home.
"Poor thing!" she always muttered under her breath, "She'll fade away if she doesn't get some meat on 'er bones!"
Jean had heard her say it many times, but she was truly grateful for the compassion in the cook's heart.
Widow Barrett and the cook were both unaware of Jean's background, both believing her to be an honest farm girl seeking her way in town.
Jean was not that.
Oh yes, she was honest! She was quiet though, and let people think what they would of her. Her chief objective was survival, and she would never tell a soul the tale that brought her to such a poor state. She would manage. No one would ever need to know!
It was the glimpses of beauty that made her catch her breath, the fineness of cloth, the shine of silver.
These things had once been hers, and the sight of such things couldn't help but make her recall the painful past.