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 linear 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.
Warnings: *Contains: traditional themes and attitudes, 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 Four
Her mother was remarkably subdued all through the following morning. Refusing to get out of bed until nearly half-past ten and even then, only when she was reminded of her closest friend's promise to visit – no later than a quarter past one – that very afternoon.
She regretted her attempts at pacification not an hour after Mrs. Rosemary McLeod had taken her leave. Sweeping out of the house in a whirl of chaste kisses and titters she could hear from clear across the manor. The maid had barely enough time to clear the plates from lunch before she was summoned.
"Perhaps he is not in want of a wife," she offered, sometime later, chasing the crumbs of her cake back and forth across her plate, only half listening as her mother graced the room by taking a breath between anecdotes.
"Nonsense!" her mother declared, tea cup quivering on its saucer with clear indignance. "Honestly Caroline, the things that come to your head!"
She kept her smile tight – stretched across her lips and mostly hidden by her cup as she took a measured sip. She ignored the slight creak of the door as someone leaned on the hinges, all too aware that no less than three servants were lingering in the hall. Proof enough that there were likely more than a few private wagers resting on the outcome of the conversation.
Mama however, remained happily oblivious.
"Besides, if rumors are to be believed, he neither spoke nor danced with anyone the entire evening and save for Lord and Lady Grimes' company. In fact, your interlude with him by the serving tables was the only one of note the entire evening. Surely that tells you something, my dear!"
"That he likely detests me quite strongly," she replied serenely, having little opinion on the matter either way as she recalled the strong arms and charming smile of Lieutenant Peletier.
She was sure he'd sensed her need because only moments after Mr. Dixon's dramatics, her officer in red had been a firm, welcome presence at her side. Save for a quick turn with Captain Shane Walsh, childhood friend of Lord Grimes and freshly returned from a campaign in the western states, Lieutenant Peletier had insisted on monopolizing her for the rest of the evening. Ever ready with some humorous story or interesting tid-bit of information picked up on his travels. He'd been a delightful distraction, as always. She'd grown very fond of not only him, but their time together.
"Insolent child!" her mama shrieked, smacking her with her fork with remarkably little heat despite her baiting. Nearly unsettling her plate as the curve of her spine arced like an offended cat.
"You made an impression, my dear! That's the point."
"He left the party for three hours because I spoke to him, mama," she reminded, amused now as her mother waved her off and another whinge from the door hinges echoed out into the hush. "It took all of Lord and Lady Grimes persuasion to entice him back before the final dance."
"You unsettled him, my dear, of that there is little doubt. Not all men are as confident and polished in their dealings with our sex as your young officer - nor as forward. I declare that Mr. Dixon had best get his affairs in order lest your regimental beat him to the table," her mother proclaimed, making her blush horribly as the thought of Edward making her an offer took root inside her.
What she wouldn't give for such an outcome!
She felt she could be quite content becoming Mrs. Peletier.
Quite content indeed.
It took a few moments for the rest of her mother's words to sink in. But before she could regain enough of herself to respond, there was a hesitant knock – three feather light taps – likely Heather – before the girl herself inched her way through the gap in the door.
"Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but a letter just came from Lady Grimes. It's addressed to Miss Caroline. I would have left it on the front table like always, but there is a servant waiting by the door for a reply."
It took ten minutes for her mother to stop gloating long enough to demand that she read it aloud. And another twenty as she raced around, unearthing the good stationary and her father's fountain pen before she could muddle through a reply.
An invitation to tea with Lady Grimes?
Good lord.
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.
