Historical Fiction

Yes, it's a historical fiction with NO aspects of fantasy. so unlike me, I know...considering as how I NEVER write historical fiction without an element of fantasy EVER. but, I recently finished a Jane AUsten book, and couldn't resist! I had to write that flowery language and boorish discussions with a spunky heroine added to the mix.

You can feel free to crit and comment (Though I'm not planning anything official with this yet, it's just something to clear my head.) I'm open to all comments, in fact, I welcome them!!

Enjoy. Oh! and Buckingshire is completely fictitous of my making (I didn't feel like doing research. I was so laaaaazy. *smile*


The smoldering fumes of loathing that were borne unto Wendy Tilton etched explicitly on every line on her face. Some people could just never be satisfied with the surpassing of attention. It was completely obvious that she envied me. One could easily tell that she tried desperately to conceal her hatred for me; I personally, didn’t mind the angered look that flickered across her face. In fact, I basked in the glory of being momentarily superior to her flirtatious mannerisms.

I gave her a brief glance, trying to firmly direct a smug smile in her direction. My reaction to her jealousy was slowly transforming me into a duplicate of her, but I hardly ever had the opportunity to win what she couldn’t. My eyes darted back to the tall figure before me—only the handsome, highly coveted British soldier whom caused many women to swoon on sight: Mr. Darik Wilhelm. Wendy was unambiguously smitten with the man, as were many others, including myself. But no one strived to appeal to his affections as surreptitiously as Miss Wendy did. It was only thus at this moment in the Grand Ballroom in the Milbourne’s manor in the midst of a ball to which I finally succeeded in directing the curious gaze of Mr. Wilhelm. I thought I’d never succeed, but with a little help from my childhood friend, Tobias Glentworth, I managed to get him to step alongside me, and ask if my dancing card was full or not.

Mr. Wilhelm was quite the smooth talker. Never once did he speak to loudly or softly. He was the perfect gentlemen and allowed me to speak when given to option. His deep brown eyes complemented beautifully with his coal black curls that bounced gently along his brow as we swayed with the waltz. His skin was flawless, and his voice soothing. I found I had a difficult time concentrating. But the thought of conveniently getting back at Wendy got my head back where it belonged.

“Mind if I cut in?” Tobias cut us off from the dance. Mr. Wilhelm turned his direction, and nodded. I gave Tobias a dark look from over Wilhelm’s shoulder.

“Of course, Mr. Glentworth.” Wilhelm bowed. “I must say, you’re timing on the intervention is seemingly more than impeccable. I have an appointment I mustn’t be late for, but I fear that if you haven’t come along, I may have missed out on the meeting completely for having relished the opportunity to dance with Miss Dalton here.”

I blushed delicately. “I apologize in advance, Mr. Wilhelm if ever you do end up being late for that meeting due to my striven desire take up your time.” I was proud of how unashamedly I had flirted. Never before had I gathered enough courage to do even a fraction of what I was accomplishing now.

Tobias turned rather green after my statement, but replied most efficiently. “Well then, I’m sure we wouldn’t want to waste any more time on that curfew of yours.” Gracefully, he somehow managed to tear my grasp from Wilhelm’s hand. With a polite bow of the head, I bade Mr. Wilhelm farewell.

“Might I ask why you decided so suddenly to interrupt me in my moment of triumph, Mr. Glentworth?” I snapped as soon as Wilhelm departed from the dance floor.

“You can cut the formalities, Elora. It’s just me.” Tobias grouched.

I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Do I have a need to? I’ll be frank: You sickened me back there, Elora. Have you any idea how disgusting your obvious attempts at wooing was back there? You looked more self-righteous than Wendy Tilton herself ever has.”

“But getting back at Wendy was my prime goal. You know that, you helped me pull it off.”


“Ah, yes I did. But I never agreed to sit through and watch you over-enthuse yourself on the luxuries of conquest which you so arrogantly rubbed in Miss. Tilton’s nose—more so than even I could endure to watch. I thought we would pull this off as a modest attempt at having Wendy step away for once. Instead, you have angered her, and I could see your enjoyment in her moment of envy.

“Furthermore, you despicable behavior aimed toward Mr. Wilhelm, was found utterly repulsive in the eyes of many. If I was your father, I would have ushered you out of this Ball in a minute or less. You have acted most immaturely, madam, and I intend to set you right. In all the time I’ve known you, Elora, never have I seen you more forward with your actions, nor conceited in your manner. Pray, what could be the cause of this sudden change?”

I huffed rebelliously, unwilling to negotiate the matter further. Tobias wouldn’t take my silence for an answer. He spoke my name again as a warning. We continued to sway for the last three measures before the song came to a close. We bowed at the finish, when I lifted my gaze; I saw the concern in Tobias’ hazel eyes. I glared coldly at him and walked briskly away from the dance floor.

What right had he? He knew how much I despised Wendy! Her skin was flawless, her social status outranked mine, her hair was abundant and fine, and though her heart was corrupt, and her voice was thin, she still managed to outshine me time and time again. If Tobias took her side against mine, I’m not sure how I’d ever survive. We’d been friends since we were but toddlers. Tobias, though he was three years my senior, and also of very high reputation, he still remained my closest friend. I was an average middle class, capable of very little, and more strong-willed than any British woman should ever be. He supported me, cared for me, lectured, taught, and praised me more than anyone else ever had. Even my own mother didn’t add up to his respect. I knew I couldn’t be mad at Tobias forever because of these things, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t upset with him for the time being. I noticed that he didn’t follow me when I stormed off, which told me he must’ve known better.

Wendy Tilton stood no less than three feet away from where I stood. Apparently I had trodden in the wrong direction. Why didn’t I consider watching where I was going while I dwelled in my ranting thoughts? Her laughing smile faded when she noticed my presence, and her violet eyes grew hard. Her hand was outstretched and in the hand of another young man whom I could only guess had received her permission to dance. They began to walk past me and Wendy bumped alongside my shoulder. Any bystander would assume it an accident. But I felt the strength that was guardedly behind her façade. I turned and glared hard at the back of her too-perfect head, boring imaginary holes in it.

I’ve certainly attended better balls; I know that for a fact. I wasn’t enjoying this occasion even the tiniest bit. Everything seems to have backfired. Wendy wasn’t swayed, but she instead was untainted in posture and eloquence. The only thing I did was make her grow upset, not inferior. Furthermore, I have disgusted my best friend, and haven’t even gotten close to wooing Mr. Wilhelm as much as I wanted to this evening. He was at fault for not refining our current relationship. Then again, I only met him as an acquaintance this very night. I couldn’t have gotten too far anyway. But at least I had a start in disposing of snotty Miss Wendy once and for all.

# # #


“It’s all rather tragic if you think about it,” Mary Falconer droned. It was always essential for the dear old woman to talk endlessly about everything she’d seen and heard throughout the week. I was glad this was my last visit with her for the month. Honestly, her jabbering always near lulled me to sleep. Constantly telling how the Asylum’s food tasted most unpleasant, how her ancestors continually pestered her in her sleep, and how dreary life was in her ‘mind-boat’ as she called it. As much as I hated these visits, she was still my sister-in-law’s mother, and I had to tend for her while she and my brother had their honeymoon (Which, if you ask me, seems to be taking a ridiculously long time. It’s almost they had it planned ahead of time to make my life miserable.)

“Yes, I’m it’s all rather unsatisfactory,” I replied robotically. My arm was linked with hers, and I had to nearly bend halfway down, she was so absurdly petite. We strolled slowly down the Asylum’s front lawn. Oh, how I wished they had a clock somewhere outside. I wasn’t sure how much more time I had to put through with this. Mary continued her croaky monologue. I sighed. She may be decrepit and rather off her rocker, but she could still be as annoying as any other typical old-aged woman whose brain is made up of nothing but gossip and complaint. Mary’s only difference was, her brain was also full of hallucinations—scary ones. Only when she had one of her episodes did I really feel any excitement in these visits. Mind, I know I probably shouldn’t enjoy it—in all honesty I didn’t. I actually found it quite terrifying whenever I saw her collapse to the ground and try to tear her eyes from their sockets. But it was better to aid her in that situation rather than being merely a body to console her need for conversation.

I have often been told hat it is wrong for me to think about the woman in such a way. But it is my express opinion, is it not? I will do with it as I wish. Tobias would be more than disappointed if he knew my real reason for accepting my sister-in-law’s request. As far as he knew, I was doing it because it was necessary under the circumstances of Michael and Vanessa’s honeymoon. He also assumes that I’m doing it because I feel compassion for these poor barmy people. Indeed, I did. But mostly, I kept this up to hopefully receive a handsome pay for my efforts here. I wanted desperately to buy a woolen cloak which could only be found in the most expensive clothing store in London, more than three miles away from here, in a drab little town of Buckingshire. Certainly not the most well known city in the world.

In fact, many don’t even know it exists, it’s so small. Only a small portion of twenty-three families live here. And the houses are all roadside along a main highway that gets to London, so we’re more along the lines of being pretty decorations to distract drivers who have destinations the pass through the road. You could call our town more of a street. Occasionally, an important visitor will make his way through (currently, it was Mr. Wilhelm.), but other than that, the place was simply too small for much excitement. And most unfortunately, I relished the idea of excitement, which usually was the wrath of my undoing. Hardly anyone really leaped to the prospect of me having a visit or springing to aid in garden work, or preparing tea-parties. They all knew I’d do something horrid either by accident or on purpose. What could I say? I’m precocious. At least I’m not spiteful. That role was reserved for Wendy Tilton.

Other than the simple road of a town we have, there is a field that starts from the back yards of the houses on the left side of the road. That is where we have some basic stores and a quaint central courtyard for meandering and holding parties or meetings. Many of the husbands in each family work in a separate town to get their pay to help feed their families and pay the bills. My job, though women are hardly ever recommended to do such a thing, is to work in the Asylum in London. It’s probably the most dreary job in all the world.

But at least it helped me get that much closer to owning my dream-cloak. It’s really quite a beauty. As thin and soft as silk, but it feels warmer than fur, and it drapes down on to the floor leaving just enough of a train for me. There are pretty vines embroidered along the hem and hood, and garlands of pink flowers are placed to perfectly along the olive-green cloth. It’s indeed past it’s time, and is an antique way from the Medieval centuries, but it’s simply ravishing, and I wanted it. When I tried it on, it was like it was made for me. my burgundy hair and pale complexion make it appear as though I was the head of a rose and the cloak was my stem. My deep blue eyes clashed so distinctly, yet so well against the theme of colors, and my pale pink lips complemented with the garlands ever so beautifully. And I never thought of myself as beautiful until I tried it on. I felt like I was coming from a fairy tale. I even got the ever-so-stiff Tobias to actually fall back a step, which made me proud.

So to get what I wanted, I had to stick around with the boorish old hag who answers to the name of Mary Falconer. It wasn’t my first option, but I was willing to take it if it meant getting the magnificent cloak.

“Oh dear,” Mary halted from our stroll, her eyes widening. I stopped as she did, hoping some amusement would come my way. Her eyebrows were furrowing in apprehension, her breath was halting as though she were trying not to cry. All signs made it evident that she was seeing something…I tried not to jump in excitement. “I think Vanessa forgot to feed my cat before she left for her honeymoon! Poor Thomas must be starving!”

Blast, what is with this woman? I sighed, disappointed. “Don’t worry, Mary. Vanessa made sure that someone would stop by your house every evening to feed him. He’s quite alive and healthy.” I could’ve sworn I’d just gone over this with her before…

Mary rubbed her temples. “Why did my daughter have to get married? She’s too young for that!”

“She’s twenty-six, Mary. I’m fairly certain she’s reached an appropriate age for marriage.”

Mary looked surprised. “twenty-six?” her expression went blank and far off again. “Last I knew she was only fourteen, playing happily with her dollies…” she was mixing her memories up, too. Vanessa hadn’t played with her dolls until the end of her seventh year. I felt real pity for the old woman, more than I’d ever felt before. I felt even sorrier for Vanessa. To imagine having your own mother forget your age, and hardly keep you name straight…It would be too difficult for me to even try to comprehend my own mother have this issue.

“Why don’t we take you back inside, Mary.” I smiled gently, tugging her along the sidewalk and towards the doorway into the asylum. “I do believe their offering Cherry pie in their dessert for lunch today. Your favorite.”


# # #


“You’re unbelievable, Elora! Truly, you’re a godsend!” Vanessa hugged me tightly as I completed my summary of what happened to her mother while she was away..

“It’s was nothing, much.” I softened my high praise. “Really, your mother was very low maintenance.”

“No,” Vanessa gave a faltering chuckle, her smile fading. “No, I’m afraid she never will be low maintenance. The doctors say there’s no hope for her. It’s too excruciating of a thought for me to know that my mother will live the rest of her days in fear and inner torture. I also fear for myself when I reach her age. If I will become what she has.”

Subtly, I changed the subject, feeling uncomfortable with the prolonged silence. “So how was your honeymoon with Michael?” I asked, linking arms with her and cheerily leading her up the porch into our quaint home. Vanessa blushed, returning to her normal self. A small victory on my part.

“Dear sister, I do believe that that is a rather personal question.” She reddened, as did I.

“That wasn’t what I was getting at, I was merely asking about where you went, and the things you saw. I’m simply dying to know where Michael took you. It’s so unlike my brother to be able to successfully keep a secret about such things. Did you go to Egypt? India, the Great Wall of China? Some quiet cozy little cottage in the middle of nowhere?”

Vanessa laughed lightly. “Oh. Well, we went and traveled over to Venice, Italy, and got to see so many different varieties of people and buildings. Oh, Elora, it was simply enchanting. The magic of the place seemed to drift in every corner and dwelling in the city. We got to watch dramas in theatres, and rode regularly on the Gondolas, not to mention, we got to sit out in the moonlight on our balcony deck in our hotel and did stargazing. When we listened carefully, it seemed almost as though we could hear the fabled mermaids singing in the waters below.”

“It sounds simply glorious.” I noted, feeling a pang of jealousy. “I’m sure you and Michael had the most wonderful time.”

I guess my genuine smile became obviously faux, for Vanessa set her gloved hand sympathetically on my shoulder. “Oh, Elora, you’re bound to go on one of your fantasized adventures yet! Just you see. One day, a handsome young man will sweep you off your feet and be everything you ever dreamed of. And he’ll take you to all the places you’ve longed to visit.” Mr. Wilhelm’s face entered my head as she said this.


Yeah, it cuts off abruptly, I know. But I had to post this here otherwise my excitment for my progress would simply burst! I may post more eventually, but this was just to clear my head. I realized after I read this to my sister, just how remarkably similar this story was to Jane Austen's novel "Emma". THAT WAS TOTALLY UNINTENTIONAL! I'll probably quirk it up a bit later, make it less like Jane Austen's work. I swear, I was thinking of Pride and Prejudice at the moment I felt the urge to start writing (cuz that was the book I finished reading recently) I guess I was unconciously longing to read Emma... But I enjoyed writing this nonetheless! hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. like I said, I welcome all comments and Critiques. ^_^

I haven't yet read the second chapter, but I praise your older english knowledge. I could actually hear the character's voices in my head and visualize what you were describing. Only real authors can do that to a reader. I'm not much of a person for historical fiction, but I'm going to keep my eye on this story. Well done, Trapila. Except I noticed a grammar mistake in the... first paragraph. I'm sure there's more (but not much more), but I'm not much of a story critiquer. Only drawings and whatnot.
Three cheers for you!

*takes a bow* thank-yous. ^_^

Are you referring to the word "borne"? there actually IS a word spelling variantly to the word "born" (I know, I was surprised too.) THink of it kind of like how some people spell words like honor as Honour, color as colour, or Old as Olde, and so on.

No, I wasn't exactly referring to that. I found that what I was talking about might have been false. So ignore me please. :D

NO!! PLease share! *pout* i wannafixit..*teartear<--who could resist such a look?*

pwetty pweeeeeze tell me? (Ah, yes...my act of persuasion has reoccured once more...muahahaha! i'm tired.)

Sorry, faces (even electronic ones) don't work on me. I made a mistake, not you.