Yet to be imagined.
an excerpt

I.
Though many of the gossiping village crones would attempt to convince you otherwise, the small community of River Crossing did not encounter much excitement. Days were filled with either work, for poorer folk, or with trips into town for richer citizens. Old women, with tongues loosened from waning minds and boredom, would sit inside over tea discussing—or inspiring—the latest scandal, which you-know-who might have something to do with, and perhaps the tailor’s son, what’s-his-name, may have started the ordeal. A new prime minister had just been elected, but the only event worth noting, as of that morning, was that the insufferable old woman, Widow Jenkins, had remarried! That could have been perfectly fine and lovely) although surely the women would have found something to gossip about), but her husband, a Mr. Polk, was more than thirty years her junior! Some more respectable, good-natured women called it love, but the majority felt something seriously off—for Widow Jenkins was a very wealthy woman, Inquiries would be made up front, but for that the money could not be left to Mr. Polk, even after his wife’s death, due to the rules of the entailment. Yes, very off indeed. It would have been more prudent, as well as more financially beneficial, the women mused, if Mr. Polk had courted Miss Jenkins instead, as the entailment was signed to her. Love! insisted the cleaner bonnets. It was love! Thus, throughout the morning, two sides battled: the romantics sighed, as the scandal whores attempted to find a fault in the intentions of young Charles Polk.