She stood on the porch and watched the carriage disappear down the lane. He would never come back, though she thought they were a good match—in that their marriage would have resulted in significant financial gains for both families. She couldn’t figure what went wrong, she was a perfect lady.
It had to have been her maid, the house slave.
Upstairs, she cornered the maid, “I know it was you, you did something…”
“Ma’am?” the maid said, unknowing and innocent, but not surprised by her mistresses words.
“I will have you whipped,” she said. “Little devil. No slave of mine will get away with driving my suitors away.” And she ran from the room, not willing to let the maid see her cry.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.