Tiny AWM update

Hey, everyone - haven't abandoned AWM at all. I still have heaps of plans for it ... guess I'm doing more of Faith's Journey though, as some events in AWM may have spoilers for FJ. Still, I've been working on both now... here's a tiny tidbit of the next chapter of AWM:

Chapter 15: Correspondence

1

For much of January and February, the weather had been mild. Other than brisk winds and light flurries, the Bower girls enjoyed the wintry clime, going on ice skating parties and snowshoe-ing in St. Francis. Children ran outside, pelting each other with snowballs and sliding on icy patches with their boots.

Then like the old adage, March came roaring in like a lion. Gray skies and ominous winds whispered of oncoming tempests. With outdoor activities debarred for the time being, the girls spent much of their time in what Persis termed “writing parties” in their parlour. With a fire roaring at the grate and a tray of cocoa and sandwiches they foregathered on wintry evenings, catching up on their correspondence. It was a pretty scene, one that displayed the character of four very different girls living in one roof.

Persis was sprawled across the carpet, scribbling furiously with her hands covered in ink. Her hair was disheveled and occasionally, she chewed on her pen when stumped for a word, her legs swinging restlessly in the air.

Nan, curled up in her armchair, would rebuke her. She was looking as fresh and pretty as ever, writing on dainty parchment paper with the fountain pen that was her father’s gift. It really was a splendid pen, one you could refill with ink, and she felt she must live up to it by filling her writing with elaborate scrolls and flourishes.

Una sat on the other armchair, with an afghan on her lap. She was always easily chilled. Her letters were neatly printed on snowy paper with a border of lilies. She wrote slowly, often getting up to see to one thing of another – whether it was the sugar plum loaf baking in the oven or the stew warming over the stove.

That left Di sitting on the couch, her back on the arm-rest and legs stretched comfortably across its length. Her pale green stationery lay across her writing board and at her side purred one of the cats that had taken residence in the Bower this winter. Freckle was a dear orange striped tabby, often sleepy and well content in his place, snuggled within the folds of Di’s heavy winter skirt.

Being the most at home, it was Persis who was in charge of getting the mail and they spent many a happy hour that might otherwise have been dull and gloomy, reading them aloud. Then these letters were speedily answered and plump envelopes were stuffed in the mail the following morning. It is these letters that we might take a peek at...