#tghstarter

[viviennedanceny-blog]

Vivienne was quite in a mood for some solitude from everyone, her brother excluded -- for the most of the time. It was a lovely, although a little cloudy, morning for a ride and she saddled her most trusted steed, and made her way towards the woods, where she liked to sit in a clearing and read, preferring the outdoors rather then succumbing to melancholy indoors.

She was halfway though the book when she heard a horse approaching and she glanced to see who it was intruding her solitude.

“Splendid weather, is it not?”

[hdearlove-blog]

It was nearly sunset and still Charles was nowhere to be found. 

The intelligence Henry gathered, when compiled, amounted to this: Charles had set off that morning (Atticus’s contribution, the ever-early riser) to find a suitable location for painting (Emma’s supposition) and had simply lost track of time (the general consensus between Duncan and Henry himself). Still, as the sun sunk lower in the sky, painting the light with its streaky golds and pinks, Henry’s anxiety mounted. Where could his friend be? Stuck on the moors, horseless, defenseless? With mounting trepidation, he decided to seek Charles out himself, and with Horatio by his side, left Mont Blanc just as dusk began to settle over the English countryside.

Heading into the woods, he called Charles’s name, yelled his own, shouted various insults and threats and proclamations of love-- all, in short, that he could say that might reach the ears of his beloved friend. But Charles was nowhere to be found, and Henry found himself stumbling deeper into the moors, humming thoughtfully to himself.

[ladylydiadearlove-blog]

Dearlove’s do not startle easily - and Lydia was a Dearlove through and through, for better or for worse, and it was surely for the better. That was why she was not startled by the whispers of the moors. Or so she continued to tell herself.  

“Who’s there?” 

[sophieainsworth-blog1]

“So the main ballroom needs to be redecorated, along with the main dining room. I was also thinking of redoing the second floor drawing room to match but I would have to run that past Matthew first. It will be expensive but worth it. What do you think?” 

[louisahastings-blog]

Clutching a letter in hand, Louisa ambled down the path from Bracknell Grange, not pausing a moment to admire the roses in full bloom or the glittering dew that had descended on the green pasture overnight-- in fact, she walked more stiffly than usual, and at a quicker pace, for her fear (through she tried to hide it) of horses and cows left her constantly vigilant for any of the offending animals. But through the pasture was the quickest way to town, and the letter was of utmost importance, so Louisa screwed her courage to the sticking place and went, head held high. 

She felt like skipping a little, so she did, the soft sounds of her shoes on the dirt the only sounds beside the slight rustle of grasses and idle birds. It seemed an uncommon bit of luck-- none of her family had kept her at home, the letter had been written with all the care of a good forger, and the skies were clear and the day crisp. Louisa allowed a smile to take hold of her features, thinking that perhaps she was wrong, she wasn’t the unluckiest little girl in the whole world.

That train of thought lasted her until she saw something blocking her path, staring at her with doleful eyes. Louisa froze, wide-eyed. The cow stared at her. She stared back. Slowly, it raised its shaggy head and moved towards her, sniffing the air apprehensively. She let out a soft scream, one hand raised to her mouth, eyes searching wildly for-- she didn’t know what. It seemed she was paralyzed, stuck to the spot trembling, and she could only give a soft groan and curse herself for her hubris. 

[missemmaclare-blog]

Emma had always been fond of climbing trees. She can recall the way she would pull her awkward, prepubescent body up onto each branch (tearing her dress in the process and Adam would tattle on her nearly every time) and feeling like she could touch the Heavens upon reaching the top. Finding a tall, strong oak tree on a daily promenade through the moors, she elected to briefly return to her beloved childhood. Though, the tree appeared to be much smaller than the ones she remembered. Nonetheless, the young woman began to go up, up, up until she was far from the ground. Emma walks steadily along a sturdy branch before sitting down, allowing her legs and feet to dangle off of it. She peers down and spots an individual strolling along the path and in the springtime there was no way they could spot her through all of the foliage. That is until her right shoe happens to slip off her foot at the same moment they are under the tree. “Oh dear!” She stiffles a laugh. “Terribly sorry. Are you alright down there?”

[sophieainsworth-blog1]

The sun was shining high in the afternoon sky as Sophie’s carriage rolled along the path towards Greyfriars Fort, several days had passed since the town pique-nique so Lady Sophie decided to pay a recent acquaintance a visit., Lady Beatrice Hunt. As the carriage rolled to stop outside the tall iron wrought gates, Sophie gazed out the window as the door opened, stepping out onto the ground. 

[duncanmarcovale]

Duncan’s pencil scratched the page of the notebook open in front of him, sketching the two horses in the paddock in front of him with an air of absence that had come of his contentment. The cold of the English winter had not agreed with his Florentine temperament and he had found the emergence of spring doing wonders for his state of mind now that it did not require freezing if he wanted to leave Mont Blanc’s walls.

He was completely absorbed in tracing the lines of the animals in front of him onto the page, albeit from a safe distance on the other side of a fence (he had never been particularly fond of horses), and adding their forms to his collection of scattered sketches depicting everything that had taken his aesthetic interest in a page’s worth of time. The poet’s mind was elsewhere as he daydreamed, letting his hand move in practiced strokes on it’s own - he didn’t even hear the footsteps that approached the spot he had found for himself nestled amongst the roots of a blossoming tree.