Guess That Character!

Well, this year is certainly one of firsts - a virgin at a polo match and now my first, ahem - blogfest.

Did I mention I was a virgin blogger before April this year?  Right enough of the frivolous banter, -bloomers, chastity belts and stockings are coming off.

Our dear friend Jen at Unedited has thrown down the lace gloves and I've taken up the challenge.  I'm sharing an excerpt about one of my main characters, and the exciting part is everyone gets guess what she looks like.  And I share a picture of her tomorrow - the big reveal.

Here's a snippet from one of my WIP short stories 'Della - A Brief Interlude.'  

*****

Della pulled on her riding breeches, it was early dawn but she could no longer lie still in this four-poster tomb of a bed.  She tucked in her nightshirt, wrapping her arms in her favourite battered cashmere vest and hopped across the cold wood floors to the dark armoire where her moth-eaten riding jacket hung.  Holy Mary, Mother of all things sweet.... this place was like the crypt three floors below where her Grandfather lay in eternal rest.  The embers in the marble fireplace had long since turned cold.  Grandmamma was of the old school; no money was spent heating the entire house. She was eighty-eight years old and still slept with her window open, even when the snow fell.  Good old Grandmamma.  

Della crept down the passageway towards the stables in her stocking feet; rattling pans and loud mumbling could be heard from the kitchen.  She could easily sneak by Cook without being noticed.  At last she reached the entrance hall where an assortment of coats hung on dusty hooks and discarded boots lay under the small benches.  Her shiny riding boots stood to attention in their trees -waiting for her to free them.  She pushed open the heavy door, cursing softly as the crisp morning air rushed into the house behind her.  Why the hell was this country so cold?

As she rounded the corner of the stables, there was a familiar whining and stamping against the wooden doors before the clip-clop of hooves followed.  Charlie the old blacksmith was pulling her favourite steed outside.  He greeted her with a tip of his cap, his old arthritic fingers shaking.

"Good morning Miss Della.  Off for the usual then?"
"Yes."  She replied eagerly.  "Is Bess ready?"
"Saddled and waiting, Miss."  He bought her shiny black mare to a standstill next to the small steps waiting for Della to mount...like a lady.  Della ignored the steps, grasped the top of the nearby fence and hoisted herself onto the rails, carefully balancing on one foot whilst she slid herself sideways into the saddle.   Charlie raised his eyebrows, his crinkly crows feet giving away his amusement but he remained silent all the same.  She smiled at him, raising her finger to her lips.  "Don't tell Grandmama." He snorted gruffly, and as she turned Bess away from the stables he called out. "Miss Della.  Mind the southern boundaries, -there's a hunting party out today.  The neighbours gamekeepers might be about." Della flung her head back with a brief nod, waving her crop as she nudged gently the underside of Bess's belly.  "Time to ride, sweetheart.'

She would ride for a few hours to wash away the cobwebs that surrounded her aching body and mind.  How she missed her fathers plantation, the wide open spaces and the beach where she rode each morning. Why had he sent her away to such a cold land called England?  It was grey and dull like an old sailors dirty overcoat.  Blue skies, and golden beaches where the sand slipped under your bare feet -that is where I belong she thought wistfully.

*****

And now, can you tell me please -what does Della look like?

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A/N: Della - A Brief Interlude ' © 2010 T.Loto. All Rights Reserved