The People of Dewbrook

Chapter One

Everyone who knew Caroline Proust could tell that she was not average by any definition of the word. As the wife of the renowned captain of the ship called Atlantis, Alistair Proust, she stood tall above most persons that she met, and her beauty did not harm that status either. She went to the best places, drank the best wines, hung with the best people, and wore the best clothes. The well of her affluence never dried up, for not only was the business of her husband always profitable, but she also had a massive fortune endowed to her by her ancestors. It was not known where the fortune came from, but it hardly mattered. All that mattered was that she did not have to change her wasteful habits, nor did she have to find a modest job like the lowly women she looked down upon did. In all of Britain, she was regarded as a rather important person, and her company was a luxury.

Naturally, she was often invited to balls, tea parties and dinners, and she was never too proud to refuse an offer, especially when the invitation came from one of the bigger places in her country. With years of experience concerning the lives of the wealthy, she had learned all that they were wont to do and say, and it helped that most of them resembled her in a way. Rarely did they show their true selves to others, even those close to them, they loved to purchase expensive things and did not regret it for a single second, and gossiping about those they did not particularly like was something they did almost every day.

In fact, the last time they found yet another person to mock was not that long ago. If it had been any of them, their blood would have surely boiled with rage, but fortunately, the subject of their vile words, whom they did not even know, was miles away at the time. It allowed them to say everything they thought of him without restraint, as was the routine amongst these people. Caroline soaked in every word with a bright smile, for she had never heard of the person in question beforehand. While the servants were placing the food prepared for the first meal of the night on the table, they commenced their conversation.

"There is a good reason none of you has heard of Stephen Rochester before," said her best friend, Fanny Lovelace, whose hair was yellow as coin and whose eyes reminded her of emeralds. "You do not have to possess much intelligence to conclude that the way he came to have such a fortune is unsavoury."

Her smile was full of forced sweetness, which encapsulated her personality perfectly. Although she was glad to have her around whenever she needed assistance when it came to her schemes or simply wanted an informal and intimate conversation, her personality was so artificial that her own artificial self could not help but judge her at times. Deciding that the asides in her head were not important at all, she kept listening to the words that other people said, trying not to miss any.

A tall man with hair black as coal and deep chestnut eyes spoke next. "I have heard of that bloke before. Is he not the one who earned his wealth through gambling, which is an unbelievable stroke of luck when we take into consideration how precarious the whole business is?"

His voice was deep and his facial expression grave, establishing dominance. She had known him for years, talked to him in the streets, visited his store since it had the best jewellery she could find, and, most notably, been in his bedroom on many an occasion. That man, who everyone knew was called Matthew Sparks, was her favourite out of all the lovers she ever had. Just like her, he enjoyed seducing people more than anything, and his experience in the arts of love and lust was the only one in Britain that could compare to hers. Another thing he enjoyed very much was the careless spending of money, and his avarice, just like hers, was impressive in a way. He was the sole person that could fully understand her, and she never regretted knowing him.

"Well, it is certain that one day, he could very easily lose it all!" Fanny exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

The rest of the table burst into laughter as well, and their laughter, no matter how artificial it may have sounded to anyone who was not familiar with them, was all too specific to Caroline. It contained a strong sense of amusement, for sure, as laughter was supposed to, but there was also a tinge of unrepentant malice towards a man they hardly knew and also a tinge of superiority, for all of these people were more than aware about how tall they stood above the rest of the world, basking in the light of that fact like it was the light of the Sun. However, despite all of that, she joined them. After all, the chances she would meet him in person were infinitesimal.