Huzzah! It’s time to put on the writer hat — because summer is officially here. Or it will be, once I put the finishing touches on the report cards this afternoon.
Thus a weary teacher is transformed into an intrepid writer. There isn’t a moment to waste, not this summer! And speaking of writing …
… here is this week’s Weekend Writing Warriors snippet, taken from As Only A Woman Can, my Pride & Prejudice romantic romp.
So the sender of those mystery Valentines Elizabeth has been receiving is not her father. Not the curate either, for the writing paper is too fine. Surely not Mr. Collins — he is safely married! Then who could he be?
By now Elizabeth has joined her sisters and mother — and the officers — downstairs in the drawing room. But their happy chatter cannot distract her from pondering the Admirer’s identity.
Once tea was brought in, Mr. Wickham changed his seat for one near Elizabeth. His friendly interest drew from her a reluctant smile.
“There now, that is better,” he said. “You have been too silent and solemn with your book; you must smile and laugh instead.”
Elizabeth now knew the Admirer’s poem by heart. “But guilt is like a melodie play’d in a minor tune,” she told him.
The expression in Mr. Wickham’s gray eyes never wavered. The line she’d quoted meant nothing to him.
“Guilt?” he said gaily. “Of what are you guilty, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Of silence and solemnity, according to you. The truth is harsh, my bonnie lass,” she added significantly.
Again he did not flinch. Nothing!
“Truth?” he scoffed cheerfully. “If you must sit alone, contemplating Truth and the Meaning of Life and all that—as Miss Mary is wont to do—we shall never get on.” He leaned forward. “Of what use is Truth on a fine afternoon like this?”
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