courtship
Courtship on WIP Wednesday
If it’s a romance, or has a love story in it, it has courting. Before, after, or instead of the marriage, but somewhere. This week, how about an excerpt with a courting scene? Mine is from The Beast Next Door, my next novella. Charis and Eric have been meeting in secret; Charis because she thinks her mother won’t approve and Eric because he worries that Charis will reject him when she knows his secret. Charis has come to tell him she is going away, and he has been rubbing her cold hands to warm them.
Was embarrassment the source of the burning warmth that flooded her? No one ever touched her so firmly, so intimately. No one ever touched her, except her maid as required to unlace her stays or put up her hair, or perhaps her sisters when excitement caused them to forget decorum. How often she had wished that ladies could exchange the fond touches she’d observed in lesser families. A hug. A kiss to the cheek. Clasped hands.
Eric lifted her hand to his lips then placed it in her lap. “Better. Now for the other.” His voice was strained, as if he spoke through a stiff throat. Did he dislike touching her?
“Truly, I am fine,” she assured him. “You do not need to bother.”
“Bother?” He took the little glass from her hand and began removing the other glove. “This is not a bother.” He glanced up from the hand he was now massaging, a smile lurking at the corner of his lips. “I have been dreaming of touching you, Charis, and am grateful for an excuse.”
Something intent and hot in his eyes speared into Charis. She could not account for the way the warmth moved lower, to parts that a lady never mentioned and touched as little as possible, even when washing, but of a sudden the air seemed to disappear from the room. She inhaled sharply, and let the breath out on a sigh, casting about for something to say to loosen the strange tension. He had dreamed of touching her? How could she think when those words echoed in the chaotic scramble his caress had made of her brain?
Ah yes. Bath. “Mama has been given the loan of a house in Bath. We leave today, Eric, and I do not know how long we shall stay.” She had meant her voice to be brisk and matter-of-fact, but the last words came out on a wail, and all of a sudden she was enfolded in Eric’s arms.
“Dearest Charis.” He was rubbing her back with his hands, kissing the top of her head. For a moment she froze, then — almost without her volition — she wrapped her own arms around him and held on tight, pressing herself against his warmth.
“The others have been over the moon ever since Mama told us. We will miss nothing, they say. Every morning engagement. Staying late at all the assemblies. No more days off because of the rain.” The tragedy that suffused her voice was ridiculous. She was an unnatural female to so hate the activities the others so enjoyed, and it would only be until the end of the season.
Eric shifted, moving his lower torso so she was against his hip, but he didn’t put her away from him which gave her the courage to say, “No more visits with you.” To her horror, her voice warbled on the last word and she burst into tears.
“Ah Charis.” The rub changed to a soothing pat as she fought to contain herself. ‘Excessive displays of emotion are ill bred,’ Miss Middleton insisted, ‘and displeasing to men’, though Eric did not sound annoyed as he murmured, “Darling Charis. We will only be separated for a short time, and when I come back I shall have the right…” He trailed off.
She drew back the better to see his face. “The right?”
Moving the courtship along on WIP Wednesday
I’m writing romance, which means courtship. Even if the relationship gets off to a rocky start or hits a rocky middle, courtship has to come into it, or there’s no romance and no story.
So this week, I’m asking for a scene that shows a crucial step in the courtship. It could be a step forward, or a step back. You decide. But something that changes the relationship. Mine is the proposal scene from House of Thorns. It is still at the all dialogue stage, and will probably change on the redraft, but here it is, raw, awkward, and as is.
“Miss Neatham, the Rector came to tell me that the village has been talking.”
“I expected it. When do you wish us to move out? I can put my weight on my ankle again.”
“I do not wish you to move out, though I will move into the village for a couple of weeks.”
“But your work… A couple of weeks… What can you mean?”
“I am doing this wrong. Look, Miss Neatham. Rosabel. Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”
“Your wife?”
“It will protect you and your father, and it would suit me very well, too. I need a wife, as these past few days have shown me. Someone to look after my house and make it into a home. I have never been more comfortable. I like having you around.
And it isn’t just that. You would be an asset to my dealings. I need to entertain from time to time, and you would show to advantage with the people with whom I do business. You are a lady to the fingertips, Rosa, and the people who buy my houses would like that.
Also, I need a child. A daughter would be best, because my great aunt’s property must be left to a girl, but we could try again if we had a son, and an heir would be rather a nice thing, I think. I had thought of adopting, but a child needs a mother, and that means a wife.”
“But… I am thirty-six.”
“I am forty-three. Which means we are both still capable of having a child.”
“Surely there are younger women with better connections…”
“I don’t want them. Silly ninnies. No conversation. I like you, Rosa. I like spending time with you.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I don’t want… Rosa, you deserve to have choices, and you won’t have them in this village. If you won’t marry me, will you let me find you and your father a house somewhere away from here, where you can live life without your aunt’s history following you?”
“You know about my aunt?”
“The Rector told me.”
“And you still want to marry me?”
“You are not your aunt, and very few families lack a skeleton or two in their closet. Marry me, Rosa. I will try to be a good husband.”
“You could find a better wife.”
“I’ve tried. And one Marriage Mart was enough. I’m never going back. If you won’t have me I’ll dwindle into a lonely old man.”
“I cannot help but feel that I benefit most from this arrangement.”
“The benefits are two way. You get a home and respectability. I get a home and all the things we have listed.”
“We have no guarantee that I am fertile.”
“That would be true no matter who I married.”
[goes away to think]
“Yes, Mr Gavenor.”
“Then you had better call me Bear. Or Hugh, if you prefer. My great aunt used to call me Hugh.”
“Hugh, then. Thank you, Hugh. I shall try to be a good wife.”