Front Parlour of Diva's Tea House
Diva Stedman has transformed the spacious front rooms of her family's house into a tea parlour, open daily. Brightly appointed with gay muslin curtains and linen tablecloths of a not-too-shabby quality, the tea house has become the gathering place for many of the village matrons. At this time of day, the tea house is at its busiest. Women of the town contentedly graze at the offerings from the buffet, and sip their cups of tea. A pot of steaming coffee sits near the comfortable fire, inviting patrons to partake of its contents to combat the chilly temperatures outside. The room is full of tantalizing smells.
Diva does not seem to need the money from her business, for her lavish buffet seems to cost rather more than the few shillings she asks. Rather, she seems to crave a house full of company. Usually her brother Giles, fond of a bit of crumpet, can be found here, flirting with the women of the village.
Contents:
Diva
An Elegantly Penned Posting
Planchette
Giles
Mrs Bishop
Obvious exits:
Baize Door  Front Door

Current weather conditions on this fall afternoon:

Temperature: Chilly
Precipitation: None
Precipitation rate: None
Wind: Breezy
Ground: Dry
Sky: Overcast
Moon: Quarter (quarter waxing)
Tide: Low

Diva's face lights up. "Baroness sweetest!"

Mariana comes in from the cold, shivering. Even though she's inside, she tugs her old tattered shawl even closer as she potters over towards the tea table, noticing Diva along the way, "Mrs Stedman!" she returns.

Diva says "It's gotten chilly, hasn't it!"

Diva mock shivers as she helps dear Mariana off with her shawl.

Thomas Attwater enters the house and closes the door behind him.

Thomas Attwater has arrived.

Giles looks over his newspaper at Thomas Attwater. "Hah!" he laughs shortly, and returns to his reading.

Diva seems to inspecting the shabbiness of the shawl with puzzlement on her face. "And how are you today, dear?"

Sniffing before answering, Mariana nods thoughtfully (or more likely, distractedly; she spotted the sweets). "Ahr," she replies, relinquishing her shawl. "Tes a mite bit better than that drought weathering tho'!"

Diva looks up at her brother's laugh. Her face lights up. "Thomas!"

The post-woman freezes at the shrieking of the name down her ear and doesn't seem wont to be moving again any time soon.

The door opens and a few Autumn leaves swil into the shop, soon to be followed by a wind-blown Attwater. At the sound of Diva's sweet voice, he freezes in the doorway.

Diva absently hands back the shawl to the baroness as she steps forward expectantly. "Puppy-Wuppy! Mama Bear has wondered where you were, oo naughty bunchkins!"

Thomas' face blanches at the use of the terms of endearment. Or is it that he now spots Mariana who is no doubt wondering about such word choice.

The shawl nearly ends up on the floor, but Mariana snags it just in teh nick of time. Her face screws up at the spew of sappy phrases Diva comes out with. Clearing her throat she slowly ventures a peek towards Thomas. Mercifully, she's silent (for a change).

Thomas looks at "Divakins" in horror and his gaze flickers back to Mariana. "Huh huh howhowhow are you today ladies?"

Diva steps forward and brushes Puppy's shoulder in a familiar manner. "I'm ever so well, Poodles. And how is my Puppy-wuppy-guppy-puppy? Isn't it funny you should come in today of all days? I knew you'd remember."

Not quite so mercifully there's certain signs that an expert in the study of Mariana's storms and other emotional outbursts might pick up upon in her expression and general, most uncharacteristic, silence. But of course, the experts have been wrong before!

Thomas winces as Diva strokes his shoulder fondly and backs away, bumping his backside on the buffet table. "Remember? Re...re...remember what?"

Diva says "Oh, you!"

There's a sniff from the pseudo Baroness' vicinity as she folds her arms and studies the amorous couple darkly.

Diva pokes Poodles in the chest. "It was two months ago this very day that we sat down and...well, came to an understanding. Didn't we, Tommy-Boy?"

Thomas pushes a tremulous hand through his rumpled hair and pulls out an oak leaf. He glances at Mariana's glowering face. "Uhhhhhhhh. Twoooo months a...ago you say?"

Diva beams broadly, displaying nearly all her teeth. "I just KNEW you'd remember."

Diva turns to the baroness. "He's the most thoughtfulest, sweetest, caringest man in the world, don't you think?"

Mariana turns on a heel to grab her half-ready tray and stalk to the fireside table. The crockery makes the most tremendous racket as she plonks the tray on the table and then proceeds to pour boiling water into the still rattling tea-pot. She treats her shawl and bag no better than the best china; antique collectors everywhere might e relieved to note, as she tosses them to the floor as she sets herself down huffily into a seat. She flatly fails to acknowledge Diva.

Thomas scrutinizes his sweet Mariana's face. *Not* in agreement with Diva..."Mariana???"

Diva touches Thomas's arm. "Poodle, Would you have a talk with the Baroness?" she asks in a stage whisper. "That shawl of hers...I think he's giving her too stingy an allowance. You know how those rich folk are. Give her some advice, do."

Diva shoves Thomas in the Baroness' direction.

Again Mariana freezes, though this time the name's different.

Diva pointedly busies herself at the far end of the room, singing 'The Day That I'm Married' in a series of la la las.

Thomas is propelled over to where his beloved sits (the first one if we mean chronologically). He shuffles to a stop in front of the Baroness.

Mariana comes out of her stasis long enough to let the last of three spoonfuls of sugar finally drop into her cup and be stirred (more like 'beaten') into her tea.

Only with this done does Mariana let her attention 'drift' stiffly up towards her reputed dearheart of times past.

Thomas clears his throat and glances over at Diva. "I...I can explain everything!" he mumbles to Mariana in a cracked whisper.

Clink, followed by angry clink, Mariana finishes stirring her tea and making sure there's adequate glazing knocked off the inside of the cup to ensure her daily mineral intake. She smiles thinly at him and says a clipped, "Ahr." (If there can be such a thing)

Thomas gingerly takes another step closer but out of slapping range. "You...recall when Diva was taking that medicine? W...well, I asked her to..to stop and ever since she thinks I am..." he says almost inaudibly, "in love with her." He dares a peek toward Divapoo.

Mariana's face becomes bland(er) and she looks down at her tea. Again she says, "Ahr," and nothing more as she takes up the cup and wets her parched (that must be why they're so thin) lips.

Diva catches a naughty peek from her Tommy-Boy from across the room, where she's folding serviettes. She waggles her fingers and purses her lips as she winks.

Thomas laughs lightly. "Pretty absurd no?" He glances back and forth at the women.

"Ahr," comes that inelegant little turn of phrase Mariana has. It's a wonder it doesn't wear out with overuse!

Thomas' pale face goes a bit pink. "Oh...so that's it eh?" He crosses his arms. "So, you really think something is going on with...with *her* of all women but I should trust that nothin' 'as been going on with Pascoe?"

The crocks take another beating and protest loudly to the fact as Mariana slams her cup into its saucer; shedding most of its contents onto the tablecloth in the process. A good deal redder now, she turns face upon Thomas, "What?!" she explodes.

Diva, at the buffet, turns around at the noise. She stage whispers to Thomas, "Don't give up, dear. Those Tibbles are terrible proud."

Wesley blinks up from his book at his table, glancing up at Thomas and Diva.

Mariana's fingers shower residual drops of tea all over the nice clean rug (and a passing woodlouse) as she throws herself to her feet a mere foot or two from 

Thomas (narrowly missing standing on the brother of the aforementioned woodlouse). Tall women's reaches are somewhat less when they're a good deal closer, but she keeps her hands to herself as she repeats, "What?!" even louder than before, and, "What's this blatherin' 'bout me an' Agony?"

Diva brings dear Mr Wellington a refill on his tea. "I've asked Thomas to speak to the Baroness. I fear she's afraid to speak up to the Baron about increasing her allowance. She's such a shy thing, you know."

The skies outdoors begin to darken.

Wesley blinks up at Diva, and nods mutely, even as his teacup is refilled. Shy? One would hardly describe the Baroness as ... shy. "Oh, certainly. It's a grand thing for Thomas to be doing, isn't it?"

Thomas raises his voice. "Ye 'eard me right! Ye actually think Diva an' I are up te somethin'?! Are ye bloody daft woman? But I should sit back an' think yer bein' faithful??"

Wesley blinks again, a slight frown coming onto his face. And he thought that this place would be quieter, and freer of interruptions than his offices at the college. 

He squints at Thomas, wondering if he's gone daft.

Thomas looks over as two old ladies gasp and scowl for their sweet Diva. "Told ye them city lads are smooth an' nothin' but heartache was te be had for our dear Diva."

Diva sneezes. "I'm sorry, Mr Wellington, did you say something?"

"Why ye little, good fer nothin'," Mariana growls as she claws up the hem of her skirts in a fist, and scoops up her bag in the other. "You think I -- I," She stutters over the very thought of it, "*I* -- an' -- an' Agony? Whilst you an' an' -- her! Tes been all o'er town, Thomas. I heard right enow, what you've been upto whilst my aunt was sick and died." She turns and starts off for the door.

Thomas, Unencumbered by a skirts and bag, reaches the door first and blocks it. "Oh! And ye believe that rubbish do ye?? I'm not engaged to her!" he bellows.
Thomas clamps his mouth shut and looks at Diva for any urges to clean or cook.

Diva catches the last bit of Thomas' proclamation and steps to his side. "Baroness! Surely you're not leaving already! And what nonsense, Thomas. Of course you're not engaged to anyone else. You're engaged to me."

Mariana glares severely at the spritely-footed gent who managed to get to the door before her and then to dare to block her way. It's the sort of glance that would turn good cream very sour. "That's right! You bully me again, why don' ye?" she mutters before turning back to offer Diva the latest in her medley of glares, "Well! Ye are a harlot, right enow. And here's you kickin' up a fuss after I went to stay wi' that good Mayor of ours and next I know, you're taking Thomas as well!"

Diva appears taken aback. Her smile fades, slightly. "I...Dear, what...harlot?"

Wesley blinks, and blinks, watching rather raptly, this unseemly row. Slowly, he closes his books, since he's not going to get any reading done in this ruckus.

Thomas stamps a foot loudly. "Enough!!!" He pulls out a tarnished topaz ring. "THIS is an engagement ring an' Ah don't see it on yer finger Mrs. Stedman! GOT IT!!!????" He glares at the two women, then stares at the ring in his fingers and clamps his mouth shut.

Wesley mutters something about it being a good thing that he's married ...

Thomas slides the ring into his pocket and coughs.

Diva puts her fingers to her lips, the lower one of which is beginning to tremble. "I...I must...oh dear...you must excuse me....I've...yes, I must run to the market before...." She abstractedly leaves, without coat or basket.

Diva leaves through the front door.

Diva has left.

Perhaps luckily, the sight of such a ring snaps Mariana very sharply out of her most unbecoming rage. She stares at it for the brief showing, then slackens against the back of the nearby chair.

Wesley sighs in audible relief, as he slowly re-opens his book, now that things've quieted down a bit.

Thomas nearly falls on his face as Diva jerks the door open and flies from the shop in tears. "Well, NOW look what ye made me do! I didn't want te hurt her. She's just a bit slow."

"I'm reckoning you've a word or two to say to her," Mariana remarks, almost meekly, as she too pushes past and away.

The tiny coral bells gaily clatter as you leave the tea house for the street.

Acorn Lane
Only a few buildings remain on Acorn Lane since the mysterious fire of forty years ago. The lilacs flanking the spot where the lane meets the road around the village green have shed a good many leaves onto the cobbled stones of the street. The ruins of the burned buildings are overgrown with withered, dried weeds, and tall oaks loom over the ancient stone wall surrounding the church graveyard. Light breezes from the moors blow across the dry and dusty street. A sweet stillness hangs over the tiny lane, almost melancholy in its chilly solitude.
As the afternoon lengthens, activity reaches a peak on the lane. Several town matrons can be seen heading to the tea house for an afternoon's gossip over scones, while a steady stream of villagers make the trek from the lane to the Market Street to finish their day's shopping.
Contents:
A silver Super Fiat 501
Obvious exits:
Graveyard Cinder Path  Village Green  Market Street  Clinic  Boarding House  Diva's Tea House  Lending Library 

Thomas nearly rips the door off the hinges as he storms out of Diva's.

A pair of women enter the tea house.

The figure of the baroness is making its hasty way off towards the 'horizon' in the direction of 'out of town'.

It begins to drizzle miserably outdoors.

Rain pounds the street, making it difficult to see for a moment.

Thomas spots the retreating figure of Mariana and frowns, shoving his hands in his pockets. He makes contact with the ring and looks at it, then back at Mariana and jogs after her.

Mariana goes to tug her shawl closer against the rain, only to find it not to be there. This irritates her. Not that she needed irritating; in fact it's rather unlikely she could be any more aggitated than she is, and seems to take a little of her anger out in pausing and glaring at the sky.

Thomas looks up at the sky and mutters obscenities. He peers after Mariana's figure and with wet glasses, misses seeing the deep puddle in the street and steps into it. "WHY ME!!!??"

The rain returns the favour by blinding Mariana utterly. She starts to scrub at her eyes and then stumble off again towards Malacourt Hall, the rain beating out any likeliood of her hearing any old farrier's complaints at the acts of God.

On a light breeze you detect a hearty scent of pipe smoke.

Thomas' shoe makes a loud sucking noise as he pulsl it out of the water, mud and heaven-knows what else which covers the streets of Poddington. He looks up and down Acorn Lane and ponders which direction the gentle Baroness went.

Most people in the street scattered, firstly at the sign of a raging Mariana, then at the sudden downpour that followed. As a result, the figure disappearing aroudn the corner to Market street; just visible through the rain, might be her. Or it could be the shadow moving off towards teh graveyard.

You leave this quiet lane for the slightly more populated Market Street.

Market Street
Once an empty lane leading to the countryside, the Market Street has grown somewhat during the forty years since the fire that consumed its neighbour, Acorn Lane. Several small cozy stores have relocated here, and their window shades are up, displaying a myriad of wares within. Despite the efforts of the shop keepers and tenants to keep the street free of debris, a good many colourful leaves have fallen onto the street and blown onto the walks. Rain falls from the overcast skies, and the air is chilly and breezy. Mud, thick and wet, begrimes the street.
At its far end, the Market Street turns from its meandering northwesterly direction to head westwards, away from the village and towards the sea.
Obvious exits:
Acorn Lane  Seaward Road  Farrier's Shed  Hawke Mercantile  Banbury Bakery  The Bone Butchery  Tremayne's Greengrocery  Eade Industries Local Office  Fogg Enterprises  Time's Triumph  Wooden Stairs  25 Market Street 

Thomas Attwater wanders into the street from the center of the village.

Thomas Attwater has arrived.

Rain pounds the street, making it difficult to see for a moment.

Thomas squelches along shivering and spies a bedraggles Baronness or...something. "Mariana?"

The rain all but obscures it, but the figure pauses for a spot of dryer shelter under the lintel of Time's Triumph's door.

A squirrel makes a brave venture across the street through the rain.

Only two fools would be out in this. It has to be Mariana. Thomas stomps soggily over to the Time's Triumph.

Very akin to a drowned rat, but Mariana sure enough. Unmistakable as ever. She's busy staring, entranced, at the steady falling of the rain.

Above you, a number of starlings fly by noisily.

Thomas uses the moment of distraction. But for the squeak of saturated boots, Thomas walks up (relatively) quietly behind her and stands in the doorway.

In the sky above you, a lone mallard flies toward the village green.

The starlings startle Mariana out of her trance and she hoists her bag onto her shoulder ready to brave the rain again and ends up watching the mallard instead.

Thomas says quietly, "I think you're forgetting something."

In the sky above you, a lone mallard flies toward the village green.

Mariana jumps out of the scant dry patch she'd found and into ther rain. She turns on the source of the voice, and asks, "W-what? Oh. 'S you."

Above you, a number of starlings fly by noisily.

Thomas nods, rain-soaked curls plasterd on his forehead, drops running down his face. "A promise is a promise an' I am a man of me word."

From inside the butcher's shop, you hear the sound of a dog barking.

"Ahr," Mariana remarks, somewhat more kindly than she did earlier, whilst busily wrapping her arms around each other in what could be an attempt to disguise her unusual 'bracelet'. "Well, I -- er, been thinkin' a lot," she begins, to stop again at the dog's bark.

Thomas' brow furrows. "About?"

Quicksilver wanders into the street from the center of the village.

Quicksilver has arrived.

A sparrow swoops low across the street.

Astride her horse, Katherine rides in, covered in a dark raincoat over her riding clothes.

The sound of horse hooves remind Mariana of where she is, and she hurriedly tries to pull the shawl (that she doesn't actually have) around her already sodden shoulders -- and of course, fails. "I should be off," she says quietly (conspiratorially?) to Thomas before trying for shadow cover along the edge of the street.

Rain spits from the skies, pattering against the ground below.

Astride her horse, Katherine's hooded eyes scan the street ahead of her, taking note of presences but showing little particular interest.

From inside the butcher's shop, you hear the sound of a dog barking.

Thomas glances at something in his now clenched hand and watches Mariana walk off.

Thomas smacks his damp head against the bricks of the Time's Triumph.

Mariana, suddenly very fond of shadows, makes her getaway into the very sodden night and out of town at last.

You journey past the last of the shops and homes on the Market Street and onto the broad dirt road leading through the plains to the sea.

[  The End  ]