Desiree_Radcliffe
Bookish Coquette
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2013
- Posts
- 1,501
The rain drizzled as Elizabeth Haywood's carriage pulled up to the elegant building. She took out her umbrella and opened it before being assisted out of the vehicle by the coachman. She nodded to him primly and stepped onto the sidewalk, looking about.
It was a busy London day, and people walked to and fro on the street and sidewalk, some discussing matters of business, others affairs of the heart. The imposing building before her was a sight to behold, though. It was relatively new, and set in a neoclassical style, with smart columns flanking the main door.
Elizabeth rang the bell and was soon escorted into the building by a gentleman attired in a smart grey suit.
"Miss Haywood, I presume?" he asked idly, returning to his desk in the corner of the elegantly furnished room. He flipped lazily through a ledger and nodded.
"Why, yes, that would be me," replied Elizabeth, closing her umbrella and looking about nervously. She removed her hat and held it in her hand, her mousy hair slightly unkempt beneath. She was a diminutive little thing, though nicely fleshed out. Her figure was the fashionable hourglass, but the corset she wore to obtain such an appearance made her breaths shallow, and her steps mincing.
"Please, do sit down," replied the clerk, indicating a comfortable-looking armchair. "The Physician will be in to see you presently." With that, the clerk left the room, going out a door in the back.
Elizabeth settled down precariously on the chair, her bustle collapsing beneath her. She fidgeted nervously and wrung her hands.
At three and twenty, Elizabeth was at a marriageable age, though she had received only one offer, which she had rejected. It was after this rejection and a spell of depression thereafter, that Elizabeth's parents decided she should see a physician for hysteria. Elizabeth had resisted at first, but her father had spoken so sternly that she decided it would be better to face the ministrations of a stranger rather than face his wrath.
She drummed her fingers on her thighs, waiting.
It was a busy London day, and people walked to and fro on the street and sidewalk, some discussing matters of business, others affairs of the heart. The imposing building before her was a sight to behold, though. It was relatively new, and set in a neoclassical style, with smart columns flanking the main door.
Elizabeth rang the bell and was soon escorted into the building by a gentleman attired in a smart grey suit.
"Miss Haywood, I presume?" he asked idly, returning to his desk in the corner of the elegantly furnished room. He flipped lazily through a ledger and nodded.
"Why, yes, that would be me," replied Elizabeth, closing her umbrella and looking about nervously. She removed her hat and held it in her hand, her mousy hair slightly unkempt beneath. She was a diminutive little thing, though nicely fleshed out. Her figure was the fashionable hourglass, but the corset she wore to obtain such an appearance made her breaths shallow, and her steps mincing.
"Please, do sit down," replied the clerk, indicating a comfortable-looking armchair. "The Physician will be in to see you presently." With that, the clerk left the room, going out a door in the back.
Elizabeth settled down precariously on the chair, her bustle collapsing beneath her. She fidgeted nervously and wrung her hands.
At three and twenty, Elizabeth was at a marriageable age, though she had received only one offer, which she had rejected. It was after this rejection and a spell of depression thereafter, that Elizabeth's parents decided she should see a physician for hysteria. Elizabeth had resisted at first, but her father had spoken so sternly that she decided it would be better to face the ministrations of a stranger rather than face his wrath.
She drummed her fingers on her thighs, waiting.
