Tess surveyed the creamy sheet of paper before her and sighed. She couldn't help herself. Fresh paper always made her happy! Next, she extracted a quill from a little pigeonhole in her desk, a smooth, rolling plume that finished all the lines and curves of her letters just so. Wasn't she off to a lovely start?!
New Year's Resolutions, she wrote at the top of the page, in her most precise and measured script. Ten minutes crept by, the grandfather clock counting each second with a dry and frugal click. Tess frowned. Of all the days to encounter writer's block--this was most inconvenient!
Finally she scribbled a few hasty phrases, folded the page in half and then once over again, and tucked the note into her heaving bodice. She desperately needed a breath of fresh air.
As she walked along the lane, Tess could not help but notice that horrid Minnie McAllister traipsing in her direction, wearing her hemline just below the ankle. Tess felt ill. Merciful heavens, was she to be outdone by that peevish strumpet yet again?! Why, only a week ago last Sunday fashionable hems were universally acknowledged to be at the knee! How could haute couture morph so quickly, with such little warning?
The next few moments required all the gumption in the universe, and to Tess's credit she summoned it in spades, holding her head high and smiling in such a manner as to mask her badly rattled nerves. The girls nodded at one another (Minnie with her awful, smug expression!), though no pleasantries were exchanged. How could there be?! Minnie made no secret of the fact she was vying for the attentions of one Xavier Willingham III, heir to the Duke of Willingham and rapscallion extraordinaire, in spite of the fact Tess had been first to embroider his initials onto a crushed velvet ribbon she used to adorn her hair!
No sooner had they passed one another than Tess fumbled for the note in her bodice. Choking back a sob, she regarded the second item on her list. Focus on inner beauty, it said, and the rest will take care of itself. Oh, how these words mocked her now! How jaded and world weary she felt as she thought of the carefree girl who had penned this sentiment only moments ago!
Just as Tess wildly wished for a fountain of ink to blot out the aforementioned resolution, a breeze lifted the note from her fingers and sent it fluttering into the street. Dear me--if this wasn't a fine kettle of fish!
The street was full of mud, horsewhips, and highwaymen--no place for a lady, to be sure! Tess watched in agony as the little white scrap tumbled this way and that, like a hapless call to surrender, until it came to rest squarely in a puddle across the way. Face up. Her hopes for salvation fairly plunged.
To make matters worse, who should come thundering by on his chesnut steed but none other than Xavier Willingham III! Tess nearly swooned against the lamp post, but then had the very good presence of mind to conceal herself behind it. Drawing his mount to a sudden halt, Willingham stooped over and with a gloved hand retrieved the note from its unfortunate circumstances. He glanced over the page, feigning disinterest of the most studied variety, though even he could not conceal the effect of its contents!
Willingham's face flushed with color. He glanced around quickly, hopefully, but upon noting the street to be empty (or did he not spy a whisp of hem, at knee length, fluttering behind the lamp post?!), he folded the mysterious list of resolutions, pressed it against his lips, and tucked it into the waistcoat pocket right above his rapidly beating heart.