Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: An on-going series of drabbles based in a period drama-au. Think Caryl without walkers, in a 'Pride and Prejudice'/'Persuasion'/'Jane Erye' type setting in old-time Georgia. It bears mentioning that I have fiddled around with ages in this fic. For example, Carol is in her mid-twenties, Daryl is older.
Warnings: *Contains: traditional themes and attitudes, class-isms, adult language, character/canon references in dialogue, vague religious references, unmarried!maidenCarol, rich-newcomer!daryl, mild-adult content, references to Daryl's past (child abuse, neglect, physical abuse, emotional trauma.)
Muslin and Buckshot
Chapter One
The heat of the room was getting to her, enough to make her wish for the cooling sweetness of lightly watered wine and the relative relief of her fan. She sighed, half in frustration and half in despair, already regretting allowing her mother to borrow it as she sat across the table, determinedly flick-flicking it back and forth in front of her flushed cheeks.
Then again, perhaps mama needed it more than she did.
It had been more than an ordeal in itself just arriving. Their invitation to Lord Grimes' estate had arrived late in her mother's opinion - only two mornings before the ball and its arrival had sent the entire household into an uproar. Her and papa had been the only two sane persons to be found as Mama chased the servants about and sent her on a never-ending list of errands.
Privately, she'd been grateful, content to let her mother work herself into a lather far removed from the fallout. Pleased to have the opportunity to take the long roads, the winding trees and charming wilderness that bordered the very edges of their property. Purchasing new ribbons and red-velvet trimming that mama was intent on sewing into her hems.
She enjoyed walking. Having long come to view it as an escape from the methodic drudgery of the average day. Mama was of the opinion she was in danger of walking herself to exhaustion or the undesirable thinness that had plagued her during her younger years. But as usual, she brushed off her mother's well-meant concern, knowing well enough by now how to calm her. After all, even the reserved Doctor Greene was of the opinion that daily exercise was beneficial to one's health; and given that papa was only alive because of the Doctor's attentions, she considered all other opinions on the subject moot.
Father had coped as he always did, taking to the adjoining estate, to accompany Mr. Theodore Douglas in a shoot. He had a standing invitation at their table and often made use of it whenever mama became too overbearing. His recently widowed sister, Jacqui, was a particular friend.
'At least the dancing hall is tolerably large', she thought, trying vainly not to sweat in her brand new, pearl-white muslin. Her mother and aunt had insisted. Money had been spent specifically for tonight's festivities. Father would not be pleased, she knew that well enough. But he'd been conveniently out of the town on business the night of the dance and neither her mother nor her elderly aunt could be persuaded on the matter.
She watched idly as a young girl, blonde and blessed with a small smattering of freckles -only this year allowed to be out in society – batted her lashes at a nervous looking Carl Grimes, clearly enticing him to request a dance. She smiled, remembering her first year out among her peers. The excitement had been almost too much to bear. This was the boy's first appearance in polite company, so perhaps they would bond through mutual uncertainty.
But it wasn't just the heat that lent to the activity on the dance floor being so sparse. Everyone was on edge, daughters dressed to the very best, in new frocks and hand-worked gowns, hoping to impress King County's newest arrival.
Mr. Dixon.
Everywhere she turned women were tittering into their fans, eagerly discussing the latest news, fresh from pilfered societal columns of the Atlanta Gazette.
500 pounds a year, can you imagine? New money, you know. His father and brother made a lucrative deal concerning a large amount of property in the north and then vanished entirely, leaving the youngest son, Mr. Dixon, with the entire fortune! What sport! Yet, so irregular. I've heard tell that-
She didn't roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. They hadn't even seen him and already they were treating him like a prize to be won. Had they no shame? It was disgraceful! Even her own mother was joining in the gossip.
She stood abruptly, smoothing her gown and patting carefully at her up-swept hair. She would hear no more of that foolishness. She scanned the crowd, smiling when she found a familiar handsome face amongst the red uniforms clustered around the refreshment table.
Perfect. She needed another occupation.
It was a few hours later, in mid-dance, whirling around in the arms of a handsome regimental, Edward Peletier, who, as of late had made his affections known, when the heavy oak door skimmed open and the room fell into a hush of whispers.
Mr. Dixon had arrived.
A/N #2: Thank you for reading. Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This series will likely continue into the foreseeable future if there is any interest.