Prudence - Part One

Hers was a narrow world.  Of scrubbed pots and polished cutlery.  Hands red and raw. Or that is to say, it had been.  What a strange thing to be unemployed?

Once accepted, a job was for life. How does a person organise themself?  She'd never really had to make decisions before.  Just do what she was told, when she was told.  Quietly without fuss.  And try and keep her hair neat under her cap.  Bits were always coming loose.  Cook had threatened to shave it once.  Cook said she'd never progress upstairs the state she was in.

Her employer had died and the heir was not interested in keeping the properties.  He resided on some foreign Island, cook had said, and did not wish to be bothered with the upkeep of houses he would never see.

The new owners already had many of their own servants.

How does one go on? She was not twelve anymore to be picked at an apprentice fair.  The governor of the orphanage had organised placement for her originally.

Freedom feels strange. Paritcularly considering her options seemed to mostly be freedom to starve and be homeless once her wages ran out.

Well, Prudie decided, I shall not be like John Coashman and drive about for ages o'cause I won't ask for directions.  She straightened her skirt and resolute went downstairs to ask her landlady what she thought she should do.

In progress and very draft - just messing about

She spun around the room in his arms. Barely conscious of her feet. Lost in the closeness of his eyes. The warmth from his face. A building warmth in her loins. Tingling desire wreathing her thighs and abdomen. Could they see her heart beating? Deep pulsing thuds beneath her breasts. Could they see her lips swollen and yearning for his touch?

If only they could be alone. She ached to give him her tongue again in that oh so shocking kiss he had taught her, but her family were watching with sharp eyes. This one last dance all they could share before she was bundled off to the country and her hearts death.

She could not imagine ever feeling this way again.

(for some reason my brain is off in Barbara Cartland/Regency Romance land today *???* mostly what goes through my brain if trapped into dancing is:  shit what do i do now, did i just stand on his foot, is there someone behind me, i hate stepping backwards, christ i hope he doesn't try to dip me - they always drop me when they dip me, etc)