First little tidbit for you! Just a short scene from chapter four of Maid of Iron and told in Constantine's point of view. You remember him, right? This chapter was one of my favorites, and made me realize just how much Jane Austen has served as an influence.
***
Well,
lovers quarrel, I thought as I trudged back to Rosarian.
I had decided to try again tomorrow, not because of the weather that had turned
foul—it was pouring out enough rain to make another Lake of St. Francis—but
because she probably wouldn’t even come to the door if I knocked again.
We all gathered in the library after supper. Father was
reading an old epic, Mother was working on her embroidery, and I was staring
into the fire with Brennan snoring quietly at my feet.
“Now, son, what have I told you about brooding?”
I looked up. Father was ignoring his epic and watching me
as intently as I had been watching the flames. “Did you go back to the smith’s
today?” he asked.
“Yes, I did,” I answered. “He said he would take the
commission.”
“That’s more like it,” he said. “But that’s not what’s on
your mind. What are you thinking about?”
“Anna,” I said dully.
“Ah, your lass,” he replied.
Mother looked up interestedly. “What lass?”
“She’s not my lass,” I corrected. “But I’m trying to change
that.”
“Our boy’s in love, Winifred,” Father told her.
“Why wasn’t I informed?” she asked.
Father waved his hand carelessly. “Oh, you know young
people,” he said airily. “They like to keep their secrets, at least for a
while. Then the problem is getting them to talk about anything else.”
“I actually do have a problem,” I confessed. “We’ve had an
argument, and I’m trying to get back in her good graces, but nothing’s worked.”
“And how many times have you tried to talk to her?” Father
asked.
“Twice.”
“Twice!” he exclaimed. “You try twice and say nothing’s
worked! Oh, son, you really should have studied battle strategy!”
“It had occurred to me,” I muttered.
Mother shook her head dismissively. “You men,” she said.
“This isn’t warfare, it’s courtship.”
“They seemed the same to me,” Father told her with a smile.
“Really, Darius,” she chastised. “Constantine, try flowers.
Young girls adore flowers.”
“Flowers, eh?” I asked. I settled back into my chair and
buried myself in my thoughts once more.
And now back to work we go!
Your pal,
Angels
The mud puddle incident was an accident so flowers should do the trick? This chapter was sweet and lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I let my romantic side run away with me writing this novel, and I can't wait to get it printed!
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