Appleby was a sleepy Village, nestled in the agricultural heartland of Leicestershire. It was the sort of place that bustled with gossip and rumour, and it was small enough for everyone to know everybody else. A tranquil setting, for such a den of social competition. If you had the right name, you'd slot into the way of things rather seamlessly, but if you didn't - you'd undoubtedly fall foul of local speculation.
Still, despite it's troubles, it was a merry place to live. A small high street of shops and Inn's dotted the main thorough-fare, and the Militia were in residence all but a mile away. The young officers were certainly a familiar spectacle in their handsome red coats and breeches, and many of the younger female inhabitants of the Village had developed quite the liking for them. Whenever a new rotation swooped into the area, there was always a swoon or two to be had.
Matilda Farr, or Tilly as she was affectionately known by - cared not for Military men. Of course they looked very smart, but she was largely uninterested in wasting her time following along after them like a love sick pup. At twenty-one, she was a prime age for Marriage, but she'd much rather paint or play the piano; much to her Mother's anguish.
You shall be too old soon!
The the statment was often delivered with no small amount of dispair behind the words, and Tilly always had to supress a small laugh at her Mother's misfortune. Eloise, her younger sister was already married with her first child on the way. Matilda however, was proving to be rather more stubborn. From a monied background, the young woman wasn't short on suitors. However, she was rather short on the patience needed to entertain them.
It was a Friday evening like any other. The review was being held in the town hall, and naturally Matilda had been dragged along by her Mother and Father. Her Father was titled, and a Lawyer in Leicester by trade. The family owned a large estate called Wakehurst on the edge of the Village. Everyone was dressed in their finest. Music was being played by a string trio, and a handful of guests were dancing to the 'Barley Mow.' More of a watcher by nature, Matilda stood on the edge of the dancefloor with her good friend Alice. The pair chatted merrily as they watched on.
A woman of twenty-one, Matilda was not without merit. A wayward tangle of strawberry blonde waves were pinned up prettily, and a pale green dress with capped sleeves enhanced the blue hue of her eyes. Silver beads and seed pearls were dotted about the torso, and a long silk skirt skimmed her ankles.
"So, have you heard?"
Alice, who had a head of dark brown curls leaned in closer to her good friend. A conspiratorial grin overtaking her features. Matilda chuckled and perked her eyebrow, "No, I shouldn't think that I have heard. But no doubt you'll tell me." The brunette merely smirked and rolled her eyes at her friend's seemingly nonchalant manner, "Yes, I shall. Martha, you do know Martha, don't you?" An affirmative nod was delievered before she carried on, "Well apparently, she has made off with the Wheelright." And with an excited clap, Alice straightened herself rather triumphantly.
"I shouldn't think that's true.."
"Of course it is!! Mary told me herself. You shouldn't always be so cautious Tilly."
"Perhaps not.." Matilda conceded, "But is that not Martha just there with Anna?" A smug smile hugged her lips.
"BUT.. Mary told me." Alice insisted indignantly.
"Well then, she must have returned to us. How wonderful." With a hint of sarcasm evident in her tone, Tilly held her hands up, "Shall we dance this round?" And with that, the two girls disapeared merrily into the crowd.
No one was far from scandal in Appleby. Atleast, according to Alice, of course.
