Best Laid Plans

1881: Geometry and Skipping Stones

Erina Pendleton believed herself to be a practical young woman.

After her mother’s death and her father’s withdrawal into his work, she faced the world on her own.  She cooked breakfast for herself and her father, managing the house by herself. What spare time she had she spent wandering the countryside near the Joestar Estate, the doll her mother had left her close at hand. 

But she knew that this wasn’t the life she wanted. 

Even aged 12 she knew she was meant for more than the life of a poor unknown doctor’s daughter. So, when Jonathan Joestar threw himself into a fight for her sake, a plan appeared in her mind. 

The Joestar’s were minor nobles, with a substantial fortune. Jonathan was Lord Joestar’s only child—that meant there were no other heirs to meddle with succession. So, instead of fleeing the fight with her doll, she stayed, playing the innocent victim. She listened to Jonathan’s prattle about becoming a squire and smiled sweetly the whole time. She held onto his handkerchief, scrubbed it clean of bloodstains, and hung it out to dry by the fire. Now, she carried a basket of grapes, humming as she walked down the road towards the Joestar Estate. She’d waited until the same time she’d run into Jonathan the previous day before heading out, and before long, she spotted him playing with his dog in the distance.

Not wanting to be spotted, Erina approached slowly, under the cover of the trees. Jonathan was leaning back against a tree, while his dog chased its tail just a few feet away.  Softly, Erina placed the basket down beside him and quickly ran off, not making an effort to hide now. After all, she wanted him to know it was her. Sure enough, when she looked over her shoulder, Jonathan was holding the basket, staring at her retreating back, his handkerchief back in his breast pocket.

She smirked softly. All she had to do was play the shy girl in love and her plan would work out smoothly. 

Then, she met Dio Brando.

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Dio was confused. 

He had come to the mansion with a plan to steal the Joestar fortune from right underneath Jonathan’s nose. It was simple in theory—slowly break Jonathan’s spirit by taking away his friends and replacing him as the favoured son. 

However, Dio was stuck. 

Every time he hurt Jonathan’s feelings—he felt bad. It was quite an unfamiliar feeling. Dio hadn’t felt bad about any of the wrong he’d done in his life—not the petty thefts, the rigged card games, the pain he’d inflicted on others on the streets of London, and he certainly not killing Dario. He firmly believed that each and everything he’d done had been justified, and the people who’d been affected had deserved every amount of pain they’d suffered. But, when he thought about slapping his bag out of Jonathan’s hand or kicking Danny, he felt regret in every bone in his body. For once in his life, he felt as though the people he was harming didn’t deserve it.

As he lay in his bed in his new room at Joestar Mansion, Dio began to doubt himself. George and Jonathan seemed like genuinely nice people, who would take in the son of a man such as Dario without a moment’s hesitation. He tossed and turned, his guilt refusing to let him get to sleep easily.

Eventually, his exhaustion got the better of his guilt and he passed into a fitful sleep. 

In the morning, he had come to a decision. He would put his plan on hold and observe the Joestar’s for a few weeks. If they were truly as they seemed, he wouldn’t go through with the plan. If they weren’t—well, a few weeks wouldn’t make much difference. It was a long term plan after all. He had time.