Perhaps Anna could be worrying about what the villan and the other lady might be thinking about her, afraid she might be considered one of those Merry Widow types who's lining up the next conquest before the starch has worn out of the mourning clothes. Then she can consider that Jack is, despite his class, a perfect gentleman and would never take advantage of a new widow. While she's considering his sterling qualities, she can realize that a new widow properly shouldn't have been noticing all those sterling qualities, and she can feel guilty for thinking those sorts of things.

Mmm, that's good. Thanks, connie!

t glares at own WIPs and contemplates the pleasures of playing in other people's sand boxes

You're always welcome, Susan.

That's an excellent take. I think there's also some nice mileage possible in the dichotomy between their two takes: she's bound to be guiltier than guilty (since the marriage to the husband she's supposed to be mounring was wretched in the extreme, yes?), and not even considering that he's beneath her socially. And because it's important to him, it would never occur to him that the class difference might be the last thing on her mind.

But it's also a superb opening for two days later, because his own feelings would likely come very clear to him with that upsurge of protectiveness.

I think there's also some nice mileage possible in the dichotomy between their two takes: she's bound to be guiltier than guilty (since the marriage to the husband she's supposed to be mounring was wretched in the extreme, yes?), and not even considering that he's beneath her socially.

Yes, her marriage was pretty hellish. Her husband was pompous, overbearing, and more than a bit of a chauvinist even by the standards of the time. So even though she didn't hate him enough to be glad he's dead, she can't help but be glad to be free of him. It's all recent enough that she hasn't had time to come to terms with it and is dealing with wild mood swings, and she's stuck in a situation where she's never alone, but never has anyone she could trust enough to confide in, either. And she's full of guilt over not being able to mourn her husband properly and over what she sees as her part in why her marriage went so bad.

As for the class issue, there's a certain nuance to how she views it. Because of her background as the daughter of a self-made man, she doesn't see those with less wealth and power as her natural inferiors in the same way she might if her father had been, say, a duke. OTOH, she does assume early on that Jack is somehow a "safe" confidante and even object of flirtation in a way she never would've if he'd been an officer and born to the gentry.

That adds some interesting layers to it, definitely. It's going to have to be very delicately crafted, indeed. Is this one in first person POV?

Nope, third person, alternating between the protagonists' heads as it seems to suit the story.

I'm exercising my sloooooooow moderator's privilege to post my shoe drabble today. (This is a true story, AND it's 100 words exactly.)

Daddy's work shoes always sit on the carpet by the door, because he leaves for work before the sun even wakes up, and he doesn't want to make too much noise getting ready. I never get to have breakfast with Daddy, because I get up for school a long time after he leaves. I don't want him to forget about me while he's at work, so I send a little present to work with him every day: each night I sneak into the front hall and put one of my Weebles in the toe of his shoes, as a surprise.

Is that one of the "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down?"

That's adorable. Did you get your Weebles back?

Is that one of the "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down?"

Yes, indeed! They were more or less egg-shaped.

That's adorable. Did you get your Weebles back?

Dad would take them out of his shoes and then put them on the kitchen table. He was very tolerant of my shoe defilement.