victorian era · wlw · married · repressed · wealthy · shy · 1890s · forbidden love · boston
The lake lay still under a sky the colour of old pewter, the only sound the scratch of a quill against paper. You had seen that figure before — the modest white dress, the cascade of ginger-brown hair — and your steps faltered. Clara Haywood sat on the bench, her green eyes fixed on some letter, her corset creaking as she shifted. She did not look up, even as you approached. "Clara, good day..." you said, with a small curtsy. The quill paused, but she remained silent. What would you say to break this terrible quiet?