The prompt for day three was to create a novel before 1950. And this is set, um…I don’t know. The same time period as Pirates of the Caribbean. Victorian or something. I’m not good at history. As always, the challenge I used can be found here.
Her name was Caroline Weathers, and she was damned if she was going to wear this ridiculous dress.
‘Mother,’ she said, as the corset was tightened around her, ‘I don’t know if I want to marry.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ was her short reply.
Caroline thought sometimes that her mother was a harpy, or perhaps a very well-disguised witch. You would have to be, to make your only daughter marry a man that looked like a mouse. Not to mention that he was as timid as one.
‘But Mother,’ she said, ‘Must I wear this to meet him?’
The corset was tightened again, and Caroline would have sighed if she had any oxygen left to sigh with.
And that, apparently, was that.
So Caroline waddled downstairs in her lung-restricting pink frilly gown – the most hideous thing she’d ever laid eyes on – and tried to look pleasant. It was hard. Mouse Face was downstairs, dressed in an immaculate suit with tails. Caroline wondered why she couldn’t wear a suit. She’d be able to breathe, at least.
‘Good morning, Miss Weathers,’ said Mouse Face, bowing.
‘Hi,’ said Caroline. ‘Mother, may I sit down now?’
Her mother sent her a scandalised look, and Caroline pouted. That was a no, then. Well, she was almost fifteen. She would do as she liked. So, gathering up her pink frilly skirt, she cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me, Mouse Face, if you’d be ever so kind, I’d like not to see you ever again. Ever,’ she added for extra emphasis.
Mouse Face looked a little shocked.
‘Caroline!’ said her mother, hand over her mouth. ‘Apologise at once.’
‘Sorry,’ said Caroline dutifully. ‘Mr Mouse Face.’ And with that she stomped out of the house. She would have continued her dramatic exit around the road, but she was stopped in her path by the stable boy, Henry, who was her age and smelled like horses. She tumbled into him and fell flat on her face on the cobblestone floor. Henry chuckled and helped her up. She thanked him and straightened her dress, then, on second thoughts, ripped the thing off, so that she was in her cotton shift. Henry’s eyes widened.
‘If you please,’ said Caroline with dignity, ‘Would you escort me to somewhere I can purchase men’s clothes?’
Henry was only too happy to oblige.