We were asked to write a character sketch based purely on physical movements and sensory description, mine recalls a time, like Austin's, when young ladies had hours to occupy.
Her fingers brushed the beautiful fabrics. Flimsy, gauzy fabrics that gave subtly changing colours when laid one upon another. Emily’s fingertips gloried in the feel of such finery. She knelt, heart pounding, at the table on which the chiffons and silks lay, regretting, as she did so, the rough texture of her own linen skirts. The faintly perfumed aroma, unique to fabrics of this quality, filled her senses.
Startled by a sound outside the room, she jumped to her feet, smoothing her starched apron and feeling her cheeks burn hotly red. She shouldn’t be in this room. This was the room where the young ladies of the house spent their free time, fashioning such tiny fripperies as were necessary in their world.
She had no free time, her world didn’t allow it.