by Bree Wolf
After what seemed like an eternity had passed since she had left the asylum, Charlotte came over a small hill and spotted a grand house in the distance.
The reminder of civilisation, of people, hit her with such force that her knees gave in and she sank down. Hitting her head on a small rock, she sagged into herself before rolling down the hill.
Bruised and exhausted, Charlotte tried to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. Her mind protested, forcing them closed, and she abandoned all thought.
Chapter Three – A Brother’s Love
With anger in his heart, Sebastian Campbell, only son to the Earl of Weston, urged his horse onward. Clinging to the back of his chestnut gelding, he gritted his teeth as the blood boiled in his veins. For a moment, he closed his eyes, but not even that allowed him to shake the image of his sister’s face as pain and misery edged into her beautiful eyes.
Cursing under his breath, he guided his mount down the slope and toward his father’s estate, Hartridge Hall. When he finally reached the front stoop, he jumped to the ground, not bothering to toss the reigns to the stable boy who came running toward him. Instead, he climbed the few steps in a single bound and threw open the door before the footmen even had a chance to reach for the handles.
“My lord,” they greeted him, inclining their heads.
Sebastian, however, ignored them. “Where is he?” he demanded, a snarl on his face. “Where’s my father?”
“In the study,” one of them replied, his face tense with discomfort.
Striding onward, Sebastian tried to force his muscles back under control, lest he strike his father on sight. Not that the man didn’t deserve it!
Before he had reached the hallway leading to his father’s study, a soft voice called from the upstairs landing. “Sebastian, you’re home.”
Stopping in his tracks, Sebastian looked up and saw his mother hurrying down the stairs, a glowing smile on her face as she came toward him. “Hello, Mother.”
“I didn’t expect you home so soon,” she said, wrapping him in a soft hug. “How was the continent? Did you enjoy yourself?”
With hard eyes, he glared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he hissed, and her face instantly changed.
Gone was the delighted smile, replaced by an expression of haunted guilt. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I pleaded with him but …”
Gritting his teeth, Sebastian nodded, knowing only too well how unrelenting his father could be. “You could have written to me,” he said, shaking his head. Again, his hands balled into fists as his anger boiled hot in his veins. “I’ll kill him for this,” he snarled, then stormed off.
“Sebastian!” his mother called after him, her dainty footsteps echoing behind him on the parquet.
Not bothering to knock, Sebastian threw open the door to his father’s study, bursting in like a madman bent on carnage.
Instantly, his father’s head snapped up, disapproval marking his face at the intrusion. However, the moment he recognised his son, the corners of his mouth curled upward, and he slowly set down the quill he had been holding. Then he rose to his feet. “I see you have returned.”
“How could you?” Sebastian snarled, glaring at his father, fighting to keep control. Never in his life had he been this angry…or this miserable. “Is this why you sent me away? So, you could do as you please?”
A hand on his rounded belly, his father laughed, “I always do as I please. It’s a prerogative of my station.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Sebastian demanded. “Why did you marry her off the second I left the country?”
Shrugging, his father sighed. “I didn’t tell you because−you have to admit−you’re a bit of hot-head, and I didn’t wish for your personal feelings to complicate the matter.”
“Complicate the matter?” Sebastian echoed, staring at his father in disbelief. Although he had known all his life that his father was probably the most unfeeling man in England, a small part of him had always hoped that he was wrong.
Now, he knew.
All the while, his mother stood by the door and watched … as she always had … and didn’t utter a single word.
“Yes,” his father said, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look at yourself. I wager everything I own that the second you found out about this, you’ve been riding non-stop, only to throw your hatred in my face. Am I not right?” His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line before he continued. “You act like a child, rash and impulsive, and that is precisely why I thought it best not to give you an opportunity to interfere and ruin everything.”
“Ruin everything?” Taking a deep breath, Sebastian gritted his teeth. “How dare you speak of her as though she were a horse you can sell?”
His father snorted. “Please do not be overly dramatic. I did not sell her. I merely married her to an esteemed gentleman who will give her a good life. If you would calm down, you’d see that this is a most advantageous marriage. Although he is merely a baron, his family is vastly wealthy and of high standing in society. He is everything we could hope for.”
Now, it was Sebastian’s turn to snort. “We? Or you?” Holding his father’s gaze, Sebastian stepped closer. “I just saw her,” he forced out through gritted teeth, and for a second, he thought to see his father’s careful mask of indifference slip. However, it may have been a trick of light. “Of course, after I heard what you had done to her, I went to see Victoria…first. Although she tried her best to put on a brave face, it was clear that she’s miserable. She didn’t agree to this marriage, did she?”
His father sighed. “No, she didn’t. But women generally tend to be a little skittish when it comes to married life. She’ll settle into her duties soon enough.”
In an instant, Sebastian’s hands snapped forward and grabbed his father by the collar.
“What are you doing?” With wide eyes, his father tried to keep his composure. “This is not the way of a gentleman.”
Bringing him closer, Sebastian’s voice dropped to a freezing low. “Neither was yours, and yet, you had no scruples.”
“Are you truly surprised that I should marry my own daughter to whom I please?” his father asked, struggling to free himself from Sebastian’s grip. “Isn’t it a father’s duty to find a good husband for her as well as for the family?”
Sebastian inhaled slowly as his mind argued that his father was not wrong. However, where Victoria was concerned, Sebastian had never been able to remain rational.
Born into a loveless marriage, Sebastian had spent the first ten years of his life alone while his father had been busy pursuing other matters and his mother had retreated from life altogether, only seeing her own misery. But everything had changed the day Victoria had been born.
From the moment, Sebastian had laid eyes on his little sister, he had loved her with all his heart and soul, vowing to protect her until the end of his days.
Now, he had failed her.
Releasing his father, Sebastian stepped back, his anger replaced by the misery he had seen in his sister’s eyes.
“Now, come, come,” his father said, straightening his collar. “Do not forget that this will ultimately benefit you as well. After all, you are the heir to my title and fortune. Does that not please you?”
Closing his eyes, Sebastian shook his head, then met his father’s gaze once more. “None of that matters to me.”
“How can you say that?” his father demanded, eyeing his son through narrowed eyes. “You’ve always been strangely attached to your sister, but−"
“I love her,” Sebastian interrupted, staring at his father. “Do you truly not know what that means? Is there no one in this world whom you love? Whom you would give your life for? Whom you would relinquish your fortune for?”
Staring back at him, his father seemed to be at a loss. “That is not the point. I−”
“That is precisely the point,” Sebastian argued as his anger surged through his veins once more. “I know I can’t undo what y
ou did, but I will not rest until I see her smile again.”
His father snorted, “You’re a fool.”
“And you’re a monster,” Sebastian snapped, pleased to see his father’s eyes open wide. “And I swear I’ll make you regret this. You will pay for what you did to her.”
His father shook his head. “Almost thirty years of age and you act like a child.”
“Say what you will,” Sebastian replied, stepping backwards. “But don’t for a second believe that this is the end of it.” Then he spun around and left.
Chapter Four − Lotte
When the blackness receded from her heavy mind, a new cold spread through her body, freezing her limbs and chilling her bones. Every part of her being ached, inside and out, and Charlotte wondered if this was hell. However, the absence of tormenting agony led her to believe that she was still alive after all.
Trying to open her eyes, she cringed when a blinding light pierced her skull, and she immediately closed them again, squeezing them shut. Through the drumming in her head, another sound slowly found its way into her mind, and Charlotte held her breath, listening.
Hoof beats.
Ruling out the unlikelihood of a runaway horse, Charlotte determined that a rider must be approaching. Had they found her? Was she still close to the institute? After days out in the country, she had lost all sense of time and place.
The hoof beats slowed down, and she dimly noticed someone jumping to the ground just as her head began to spin once more. Then a warm hand settled on her chilled shoulder.
“Miss, are you all right?” a stern voice asked, a hint of annoyance unmistakable. Clearly, the man was displeased with the inconvenience of her appearance in his path. “Blasted woman, what are you doing out here?” he grumbled when she failed to react.
Strangely annoyed with his manners−considering her situation−Charlotte inhaled deeply, trying to muster the strength to open her eyes and meet his anger. However, her mind refused to cooperate, welcoming the fog that returned, wrapping her in a comforting warmth.
Slowly, everything receded. The cold. The blinding light. As well as the warm hand on her shoulder.
A moment later, she fell into a dark nothing.
***
As unconsciousness abandoned her once again; the memory of the icy chill that had gotten a hold of her returned, and Charlotte instantly gritted her teeth, awaiting its onslaught. However, instead she found herself wrapped in a comforting warmth, and she carefully moved her hands over the soft ground that held her. Was she in a bed? How had she gotten−?
Then another memory returned.
The memory of hoof beats and a man, displeased to have stumbled upon her.
Instantly, Charlotte’s eyes flew open.
The dimly lit room she found herself in was barely furnished. Three simple beds stood along the walls, a closet in one corner and a chair as well as a table with spindly legs had been placed beside Charlotte’s bed. Its glass slightly smudged, a modest window at the back wall allowed for a small beam of bright light to filter into the dark interior. Everything about the room spoke of simplicity, and yet, the walls whispered of a strong foundation, built with money, and not one erected quickly out of necessity.
Charlotte took a deep breath. How long had she been unconscious? Was it still the same day? How much time had passed?
Panic began to rise, and Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, trying to fight it back down. At least, she was not back at Winham Institute−those walls she would remember for the rest of her life−which meant that the man who’d found her had not belonged to a search party looking for her. But then who was he? And where had he taken her?
Opening her eyes, Charlotte glanced around the room, but couldn’t discern anything more than she had on her first inspection. However, through the door, dim voices and the shuffle of feet drifted to her ears.
Brushing a hand over her head as it began to feel dizzy with the many thoughts that suddenly rushed to the front of her mind, Charlotte found her hair to be coarse and knotted. Her face, however, felt clean, a little raw even as though it had been scrubbed to get the dirt and grime off that had undoubtedly accumulated there after spending days out in the country. Only her fingernails still showed remnants of the time she had spent outside, a dark line running along their chapped edges.
Where was she? Charlotte wondered again. Dimly she recalled seeing a stately manor in the distance mere moments before she had collapsed. Was it possible that the rider who had come upon her had taken her there? Was he a gentleman of the upper class?
At that thought, Charlotte’s stomach churned. What if he had recognised her? What if …?
The throbbing in her head returned, and Charlotte groaned. However, a moment later, her faculties seemed to return as she reminded herself that if she was indeed at the manor house she had glimpsed these were definitely the servants’ quarters, which meant that he had not recognised her after all.
Carefully pushing herself up, Charlotte felt the strain of such a simple task in every muscle of her body and immediately sank back down.
In the next instant, the door opened, and Charlotte’s heart almost jumped out of her chest as she stared at the young woman’s face who’d stuck her head in through the small gap in the door.
“You’re awake,” the young woman gasped, and a gentle smile came to her face. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Then the door closed, and footsteps hurried away, a distant echo of voices drifting to Charlotte’s ears.
Long moments passed, and Charlotte felt her skin crawl as she waited for whatever was to come. Where had the young woman disappeared to? Who was she alerting?
As the minutes stretched on, Charlotte wished she could simply rise from the bed and search out those who could provide answers. However, she doubted that she could make it even two steps toward the door in her weakened condition.
Moments later, a battery of footsteps echoed from down the hall and then a middle-aged man accompanied by another young woman as well as the one Charlotte had seen before burst into the room. Approaching the bed, the man smiled at her, his kind eyes calming the rapid beating of Charlotte’s heart. “Good morning, my dear,” he said in a quiet and steady voice. “You had us quite worried. Can you tell us what happened?”
Overwhelmed by the situation at large, Charlotte stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought. What was she to say?
“It’s quite all right,” the doctor said, seeing her distress. “We can talk about that later. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Procten.” Then he gestured to the other young woman, who had entered with him. “This is my daughter Evelyn, and I suppose you’ve already met Betty,” he concluded, glancing at the young woman, who had discovered Charlotte’s wakeful state only moments earlier. Then his eyes turned back to her. “Can you tell us your name?”
Never in her life had Charlotte been asked a more complicated question!
Swallowing, she opened her mouth. What was she to say? Giving them her name would ultimately take her back to the asylum, and although Charlotte wasn’t certain of much these days, she knew she never wanted to see that place ever again. “My name …,” she croaked, frantically searching her mind. “I mean, I’m … I’m Lotte.”
“Lotte,” Dr. Procten repeated. “It’s nice to meet you. How are you feeling today?”
“My head hurts,” Charlotte answered, relieved that he didn’t press for more details about herself.
Feeling her forehead and checking her eyes, he nodded. “That was to be expected. From what Lord Ashwood said you must have taken quite a fall. Although you’re in need of rest as well as nourishment, there’s nothing else wrong with you except for a few scrapes and bruises. You were quite lucky, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered, worrying what would happen next. From what Dr. Procten had said, it was reasonable to assume that after coming upon her, Lord Ashwood had reluctantly taken her to his estate rather than letting her freeze to death.
However, where would she go from here?
“Do you have any family living nearby?” Dr. Procten asked, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at her the way her father used to when she had been young. “Can we send a message?”
With wide eyes, Charlotte stared at the kind man standing beside her bed as her heart hammered in her chest. What was she to do? If her family knew where she was…
Once again seeing her distress, Dr. Procten shook his head. “Do not worry, child. All shall be well.” Then he stepped around the bed and spoke to his daughter in hushed tones. After a while, she nodded. A moment later, Dr. Procten stepped toward the door, gesturing for Betty to follow.
When their footsteps echoed down the hallway, the doctor’s daughter approached the bed and then sat down on the chair. “Hello, I’m Evelyn,” she introduced herself once more. “Do you need anything?”
Shaking her head, Charlotte stopped. “Maybe some water,” she whispered, watching the tall dark-haired woman as she rose from the chair and carefully poured a glass from the jug on the nightstand. “Thank you,” Charlotte mumbled as Evelyn handed her the refreshing liquid. How long had it been since she’d last drunk anything?
Returning to the chair, Evelyn smiled at her. “My father often allows me to help when he is taking care of female patients,” she explained. “Although I’m not a doctor, he has come to realise that it is often easier for women to speak to another woman.” Sitting back, Evelyn looked at her expectantly. “Is there anything you would like to say? Anything we should know to help you?”
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte shook her head.
“All right,” Evelyn relented. “Can you tell me what happened to you? Do you remember how you got here?”
Remember? Charlotte wondered, realising that it might be far easier to plead memory loss than to form a complicated lie for her to explain her whereabouts as well as her identity. Hoping that the young woman would believe her, she shook her head. “I don’t remember.”