Thread: ~A Highwayman Comes Riding~ (For Vivid Fizz)

A silent type! Oh, she knew there was something very special about him. Not many men tolerated the mindless chatter of a woman. Even from one as lovely as the innkeepers daughter. Yes, it was proper to entertain them for a few minutes, but to let them blather on and on was considered unladylike. After all what did a woman know of anything beside flowers, dresses, and the pianoforte? If you asked those of the lower yoke there was quite a bit more. Even though it is not the type of accommodations that you are used to, she started off in a different subject entirely, the inn is charming. At least I think it is. It has a quaint thatched roof and a historical charm that is detached from the modern sense of beauty. Some have even said it was like stepping into a fairytale! The inn may have been old and outdated but Bess certainly thought that it, with its placement by the lavender depths of the more and centuries old appearance was just perfect. Some thought it was just awful. Her mind went to her fianc and she let out an audible sigh. Men of tastes, so called tastes, just thought it was a ratty old thing. But you will see, she said as she attempted to lift her spirits. Father has put a lot of work into it. His own two hands have gone into repairing and making the place just wonderful. He is getting old though. Too old to go up and thatch the roof anymore. There was an awkward silence as they came over the hill that would put them in sight of the inn. How she hated to think of her fathers mortality. He had raised her all by himself but it had taken a toll on him mentally and physically. It sadden her to think of it. Yet all of that went from her mind. In the distance, like a horrid light in the distance, was a carriage. Brand new as it was she had no doubt who it belonged to. Her heart stopped beating for a moment. Oh no. Not that bastard. ---- Tim was delusional. He had come to think that he had a good relationship with Sir James. There were things that he was able to do for him that no one else was able to. Like tell him that the old loon of a landlord never paid his taxes in full. Like Bess liked to bathe in the spring further back on the property. Though he had yet given that little bit of information yet. Later that night he would. It was warm out and the black-eyed beauty would not doubt find her way to the spring that evening. Now he took the horses and made sure they were comfortable. When the influential man stepped in he would not see Bess, normally she would be the one to greet those at the door. Instead he saw a cheery, overweight man behind the bar, wiping his beer mugs and bottles down with a whistle. There was no hair on his heads, just puffs of coarse gray pieces around his temples and the back of his neck. His eyes were a bright, bright blue and he bore a large, bulb like nose. His skin was bright red, particularly around the nose. It was clear that his daughter had gotten her mothers looks. As soon as he noticed the snobbish mans presence, Douglass whistling stopped and a rather dark look passed his face. Afternoon, he said. There was a bite to his tone that he did not even attempt to hide. We werent expecting you here until the end of summer. Is something wrong? Come to cry off on Bessie? There are likely fairer maids in London. Well, good Sir, I accept. Ale?