FanStory.com - Gloves of satinby zanya

The carriage came to a halt outside of Willow Manor in Bernshire. Lady Priscilla adjusted her veiled hat and gracefully descended.

Scents of Spring lingered on the April air.

'Papa was right,' Priscilla murmured, 'London will never be my home.'

Yet doubts assailed her. London had an abundance of eligible, aristocratic men. Bernshire did not. She wondered about Lord Harold. He did have a twinkle in his eye.

Catching sight of Papa, Lord Answorth, among the daffodils, she hastened to embrace him.

'Dearest Papa,' she said,' how happy I am to be back at Willow Manor.'

Papa replied,' Yes my darling Priscilla, I had hoped you would not get caught up in the London scene. Did you break any young men's hearts during your year-long sojourn?'

Priscilla replied, 'London's young men have a choice of hearts to break. But I was determined mine would not be one of them.'

'Lord Harold is planning on dropping by this evening to plan for the Spring fete,' Papa added.

Just then the clip-clop of hooves could be heard approaching the Manor. Lord Harold's carriage had arrived and he stepped onto the cobblestones.

He extended a gloved hand to welcome Priscilla.

Papa and Lord Harold were soon deep in conversation.

Priscilla made her way towards the entrance door. However, the bolt was jammed.

'Papa,' she called out, 'can you assist with the bolt?'

Seeing this young damsel in distress, Lord Harold rushed forward gallantly.

'Dearest Priscilla,' Lord Harold began as he attempted to loosen the bolt,' you are weary from travelling. Allow me to assist.'

Lady Priscilla's white satin glove had become stained in her effort to release the bolt.

Spontaneously, Lord Harold attempted to clean the rust from her glove. Their eyes met.

Gently taking her hand in his, he declared, 'Lady Priscilla, I have missed your presence this past year. While you will remain at Willow Manor may we get better acquainted?'

Priscilla hastened to reply.

'Lord Harold,' she replied, 'I should be delighted to get to know you better.'

Though Papa was tending to his daffodils, his ageing heart jumped for joy at the sight of the young couple smiling happily by the Manor door.

'Perhaps Lord Tennyson was right,' he murmured and in Spring a young man's fancy does turn to thoughts of love.'
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