Excerpt 1 from Operations of Time

    A  bit of an introduction to this first, the working title is Operations of Time it comes from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park:

 

    How wonderful, how very wonderful the operations of time, and the changes of the human mind! If any  one faculty of our nature maybe called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so    obedient -- at others, so bewildered and so weak -- and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond controul! We are to be sure a miracle every way -- but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting, do seem peculiarly past finding out.

I left the British English spelling because I'm a snob. Just kidding. I'm just quoting it as she wrote it and it feels fancy. I was looking for a title of this work and I went with my first choice in finding inspiration I Googled it. Really who doesn't do it? But I googled  (Does it need to be capitalized? I don't know and it looks dumb capitalized in my opinion.) Jane Austen Quotes about time (hmmm maybe time is a theme in the story hmmm). And I found the one liner of this quote, "How wonderful, how very wonderful the operations of time, and the changes of the human mind!" It feels like it fits. Why Jane Austen, some may ask? Well it will become pretty apparent in the excerpt I'm posting, which is the first part of the book (it's not finished can I call it a book?) story. The beginning takes place at a Regency Reenactment. I think that's all the intro I'm going to give. 

Excerpt from Operations of Time

    God, why is it so hot in here? Alice Wesford-Burns scanned the couples bouncing, mostly in time with the music around the long salon of Harrington House. Candles flickering in the sconces on the walls and the chandeliers overhead, failing the attempt to create an atmospheric glow. Ladies in their empire-waisted, linen gowns wafted fans to combat the heat and hide their giggling at the less-than-elegant dancers. One could almost mistake the scene for the Regency Era ball it aspired to recreate as long as one didn’t look too closely at the candles. They were electric. Or the chairs placed sporadically around the room for the musicians in the corner and others to sit on. They were folding chairs with fabric coverings like one might see at a wedding, a concession to the owner of this fine historic establishment to protect the antiques from modern rumps.  Alice considered it wise as she watched a young man lean back onto the two back legs to better ogle the assets of the young lady who bent down to pick up her dropped fan.  
    Ugh, It was bloody boiling! The overlords, better known as hostesses of the Regency Society of the Greater London Area who were putting on this little reenactment, had decreed that all the windows remain shut. The curtains drawn to stifle the modern noises from outside and block the sun, all done to support the pretense of an evening ball. Alice supposed it might have worked if there was aircon running or it was any other time of year, not a hot August afternoon during a record-breaking summer. Of course, it was one of those impossibly clear, sunny days, and she was stuck inside with a bunch of strangers, watching the too few men be passed around as dance partners among the overly eager female reenactors. Alice spied more than a few ladies paired off dancing together to the apparent chagrin of the overlor-ehm-hostesses.
     Alice vigorously waved her bonnet’s brim in front of her face like a fan. Only to force hot, sweaty air, brimming with too much flowery perfume and B.O., into her face. She wasn’t sure that was an improvement.
    All the hopping around was not what she was expecting in Regency dancing. Before the commencement of the ball, a very, very prime-looking lady of advanced years was maliciously delighted to inform all the plebeians assembled that “contrary to what you may have seen in films, regency dancers did not glide, they skipped. Everyone should be prepared to sweat.” Alice already had been and had zero plans to bounce around in front of people.
    To make matters worse, Alice’s stays were starting to pinch. Sophie had assured her they would fit just like a regular, modern bra but she failed to take into account that Alice almost exclusively wore sports bras. Alice slid a glance at Sophie to her right. Sophie looked absolutely, perfectly coiffed, not a hair out of place as she fanned herself in time with the music and stared, enthralled by the dancers. They wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
    What time was it? Alice reached into her pocket for her mobile. Except, she wasn’t wearing jeans or anything with pockets, and Sophie had confiscated her mobile because it wasn’t “historically accurate.” God! The only concessions she was able to wriggle out of her possibly former best friend were her ID, stuffed at the very bottom of her purse, or reticule as Sophie insisted she call it, her ankle boots which looked close enough to pass muster—which thank God Sophie agreed to because she had wanted Alice to wear satin ballet slippers to traipse all over London—and her silky pajama shorts. Alice had been shocked to discover that according to Sophie, and her exceedingly thorough research, women during the Georgian and Regency eras didn’t wear underwear. After that little revelation, Alice picked her jaw off the ground and calmly told Sophie to sod off if she thought she was going commando in this flouncy, white linen gown in public. Knowing herself as she did, Alice would probably trip on the stairs to the Tube and flash her bits to everyone. No. Thank. You