| General Fiction posted October 27, 2016 | Chapters: |
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Nancy goes into town with her mum.
A chapter in the book Nancy's Choice
Walking To The Village
by Heather Knight
Nancy Elliot lives a blessed existence with her parents and her brother in 19th century England. Her mother, however, is not that happy...
This is a bit of Austen-like writing (well, a girl can dream...), so if you're looking for action it's not the read for you.
The walk from Chadwick House to Bourton took around ten minutes, maybe fifteen if you had little legs like Nancy's. Maybe twenty if you stopped to observe every little flower on your way.
'Mama, look, see how many daffodils have grown behind that bush.'
'Yes, love. A lot more than last year,' Jane said turning around.
'They are beautiful. But I think I prefer crocuses.'
'You do?'
'Yes, they are like long-lasting poppies.'
'I had never thought about it that way, but you are right.'
'I wish we had lilies in the garden.'
'Well, we could plant some.'
'Could we? That would be wonderful.'
Jane loved talking to her little daughter. She could say without a doubt she was her best friend and the only person who understood her. Just then she felt happy, walking with Nancy and enjoying the spring weather. She treasured the moment because there were not many others that made her feel truly blessed. She loved her children dearly but her life had not turned out to be what she dreamed of as a young girl. No happy ending for her.
A dark figure caught up with them when they were about to reach the village. It was Reverend Connelly. The Elliots and the reverend had become firm friends when he first came to live in Bourton five years earlier.
Reverend Emery Connelly was originally from California, but he felt at home in the little village and was not in a hurry to go back to his country. He always said everything was too big for his liking in America, even the people. In England, however, things were just the right size.
He was a tall, middle-aged man who always wore his clerical hat and robes, even though he seemed to be ill at ease in them, as if they were too small and constricted his movements.
Nancy would have been afraid of his clothes if she had not liked him so much. She always told her mother they made him look like a crow.
'A nice crow, of course,' she hastened to explain.
'Good morning, Mrs. Elliot. Good morning, Nancy. How are you?' he asked in the accent Nancy thought was hilarious. The way he said his r's was most comical, she used to say.
'Very well, Reverend. We are going into the village to buy a few unnecessary things to make ourselves beautiful,' Jane answered.
'You are always beautiful, my dears,' he said with a smile. 'I am going to do some cleaning at the church myself. There was a wedding yesterday and my porch could do with some sweeping. Would you like to help me Nancy?'
Even though she knew he was joking, Nancy smiled and hid behind her mother's skirt.
'Who got married?'
'Maude and Tom Evans.'
'Do I know them?'
'Maybe by sight. She's the maid at the Thorntons and he's their gardener.'
'Oh, yes, I do. She's a pretty little thing.'
'Indeed. And Tom is a very good sort of man. They will be happy together.'
Jane and Reverend Connelly spent the rest of their walk speaking about this and that, while Nancy twirled happily behind them.
They talked about the weather, about John and Nancy's latest academic achievements and about some new parishioners who had just arrived the past week. It was a most satisfactory conversation for both of them even though they did not talk about any important or life-altering topics.
Jane could not understand her feelings. She knew they were wrong on many levels, but she was very much drawn to Reverend Connelly. She would even go as far as saying she was in love with him. He was not handsome or even attractive and she was a married woman, but he made her feel as if she mattered, as if what she said was important. So unlike her husband...
She dismissed the thought and promised herself she would carry this secret with her to the grave. She would be terribly embarrassed if anybody could guess at her thoughts.
Reverend Connelly walked with them to the door of the milliner's and then took his leave.
Nancy watched his retiring back for a while and then said, 'He is an exceptionally nice man, do you not think so, Mama?'
'Yes, darling. Exceptionally. I do not know many like him. Shall we go in? I would also like to go to the haberdasher's later to choose some muslin for a dress before we go to Charlotte's. All my clothes are becoming too tight for me.'
'And do not forget my ribbons.'
'No. I will not forget. Do not worry.'
Inside the milliner's it was cool and it smelled of lavender. Luckily for them, the shop was uncharacteristically empty.
'Hello Ma'am! How can I help you?'
'I am looking for a pink bonnet for my daughter. Do you have any you could show us?'
'Yes, of course. Just give me a minute.'
He promptly came back, carrying at least a dozen round boxes that he carefully placed on the wooden counter.
Mrs Elliot and her daughter looked at all sorts of caps and bonnets, in all the colours under the rainbow.
Nancy exclaimed in amazement whenever she saw one she liked, which was quite often. The milliner looked on, amused by the little lady and also a bit worried by the way she handled his precious caps.
After half an hour, she was the proud owner of two bonnets and her mother had also bought one for herself that she had never thought she needed. The milliner was a good salesman, you had to give him that. Besides, his taste was exquisite, more so if you consider his shop was far away from the bustle and sophistication of London.
Nancy Elliot lives a blessed existence with her parents and her brother in 19th century England. Her mother, however, is not that happy...
This is a bit of Austen-like writing (well, a girl can dream...), so if you're looking for action it's not the read for you.
The walk from Chadwick House to Bourton took around ten minutes, maybe fifteen if you had little legs like Nancy's. Maybe twenty if you stopped to observe every little flower on your way.
'Mama, look, see how many daffodils have grown behind that bush.'
'Yes, love. A lot more than last year,' Jane said turning around.
'They are beautiful. But I think I prefer crocuses.'
'You do?'
'Yes, they are like long-lasting poppies.'
'I had never thought about it that way, but you are right.'
'I wish we had lilies in the garden.'
'Well, we could plant some.'
'Could we? That would be wonderful.'
Jane loved talking to her little daughter. She could say without a doubt she was her best friend and the only person who understood her. Just then she felt happy, walking with Nancy and enjoying the spring weather. She treasured the moment because there were not many others that made her feel truly blessed. She loved her children dearly but her life had not turned out to be what she dreamed of as a young girl. No happy ending for her.
A dark figure caught up with them when they were about to reach the village. It was Reverend Connelly. The Elliots and the reverend had become firm friends when he first came to live in Bourton five years earlier.
Reverend Emery Connelly was originally from California, but he felt at home in the little village and was not in a hurry to go back to his country. He always said everything was too big for his liking in America, even the people. In England, however, things were just the right size.
He was a tall, middle-aged man who always wore his clerical hat and robes, even though he seemed to be ill at ease in them, as if they were too small and constricted his movements.
Nancy would have been afraid of his clothes if she had not liked him so much. She always told her mother they made him look like a crow.
'A nice crow, of course,' she hastened to explain.
'Good morning, Mrs. Elliot. Good morning, Nancy. How are you?' he asked in the accent Nancy thought was hilarious. The way he said his r's was most comical, she used to say.
'Very well, Reverend. We are going into the village to buy a few unnecessary things to make ourselves beautiful,' Jane answered.
'You are always beautiful, my dears,' he said with a smile. 'I am going to do some cleaning at the church myself. There was a wedding yesterday and my porch could do with some sweeping. Would you like to help me Nancy?'
Even though she knew he was joking, Nancy smiled and hid behind her mother's skirt.
'Who got married?'
'Maude and Tom Evans.'
'Do I know them?'
'Maybe by sight. She's the maid at the Thorntons and he's their gardener.'
'Oh, yes, I do. She's a pretty little thing.'
'Indeed. And Tom is a very good sort of man. They will be happy together.'
Jane and Reverend Connelly spent the rest of their walk speaking about this and that, while Nancy twirled happily behind them.
They talked about the weather, about John and Nancy's latest academic achievements and about some new parishioners who had just arrived the past week. It was a most satisfactory conversation for both of them even though they did not talk about any important or life-altering topics.
Jane could not understand her feelings. She knew they were wrong on many levels, but she was very much drawn to Reverend Connelly. She would even go as far as saying she was in love with him. He was not handsome or even attractive and she was a married woman, but he made her feel as if she mattered, as if what she said was important. So unlike her husband...
She dismissed the thought and promised herself she would carry this secret with her to the grave. She would be terribly embarrassed if anybody could guess at her thoughts.
Reverend Connelly walked with them to the door of the milliner's and then took his leave.
Nancy watched his retiring back for a while and then said, 'He is an exceptionally nice man, do you not think so, Mama?'
'Yes, darling. Exceptionally. I do not know many like him. Shall we go in? I would also like to go to the haberdasher's later to choose some muslin for a dress before we go to Charlotte's. All my clothes are becoming too tight for me.'
'And do not forget my ribbons.'
'No. I will not forget. Do not worry.'
Inside the milliner's it was cool and it smelled of lavender. Luckily for them, the shop was uncharacteristically empty.
'Hello Ma'am! How can I help you?'
'I am looking for a pink bonnet for my daughter. Do you have any you could show us?'
'Yes, of course. Just give me a minute.'
He promptly came back, carrying at least a dozen round boxes that he carefully placed on the wooden counter.
Mrs Elliot and her daughter looked at all sorts of caps and bonnets, in all the colours under the rainbow.
Nancy exclaimed in amazement whenever she saw one she liked, which was quite often. The milliner looked on, amused by the little lady and also a bit worried by the way she handled his precious caps.
After half an hour, she was the proud owner of two bonnets and her mother had also bought one for herself that she had never thought she needed. The milliner was a good salesman, you had to give him that. Besides, his taste was exquisite, more so if you consider his shop was far away from the bustle and sophistication of London.
Artwork by suzannethompson2 at FanArtReview.com
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