In Darkest London

Chapter 2 ~ Chastity {Too Close to the Fire}

{𝟏𝟖88, 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨n}

Chastity Whitlock sat in the grand living-room with her Father, Lord Whitlock, her elder sister Hattie and opposite the three of them sat their honourable guest Sir Lucian sipping scotch neat from a glass tumbler.

Her cheeks felt rosy from the warmth of the fire which never died thanks to the automaton which kept it stoked. The gathering reminded her of fonder times, her heart ached as she glanced at the vacant chair next to her fathers. She regressed to a child as she remembered all those evening gatherings around this very fire, with cups of cocoa and her mother's gentle smile as her father told stories of adventures from far off lands.

"Tell us a story, Pa-pa?" she beamed.

"We're too old for stories, don't you think little sister?" Hattie's face tightened, her lips pursed as she objected but she didn't look up from her needlework until after she'd spoken, and only to glance in Sir Lucian's direction.

"Oh come on, Hattie, don't be such a stickler." Chastity perched on the edge of her seat like an excited child, seeming not to notice the look. With no response, she closely regarded her father's absent face. Beads of sweat gathered in the wrinkles of his forehead as he sipped slowly on his wine. The fire reflected in his glassy-eyes, he seemed troubled, upset even. "Father, are you okay?" Chastity rose from her seat and placed the back of her hand on his cheek. "Are you ill?"

Sir Lucian stood up placing his tumbler down on the marble mantle as he did. "Should I call for a doctor?" he offered. Serious brandy-brown eyes passing between Lord Whitlock and his daughters. He was a calm and collected man, with a naturally fair complexion which made him look slightly ill himself in a certain light. Hattie, tall and slender, towered over him slightly as he moved toward them and she too rose from her chair. What he lacked in height he made up for in demeanour and a very impressive brown moustache to match his eyes; one of the first things Hattie had made comment on when he introduced himself some months ago.

"No, no!" Lord Whitlock waved, "that's very kind, but there's no need, I'm fine". He looked up and managed a small smile. "Please, sit down, would you like another scotch?"

"Thank you Sir, but if you're sure you're alright I fear it's getting late and the storm doesn't sound to be letting up out there so I'll bid you all a good evening." Sir Lucian bent his head courteously and turned to Chastity. "Until next time..." he said, taking her hand in his and kissing the back. Chastity wasn't really looking at him though, she was focused on her father, she mumbled some pleasantries and dropped her hand from his grasp.

Hattie immediately offered her hand out next. "Lovely to see you again Sir Lucian". She said with more enthusiasm than anything else that evening.

"And you, Miss Hattie" he said as he clasped his other hand on top of hers and gave it a little rub before letting go. He took his top hat and long jacket from the automaton mechanical help which brought it to him, fixed a smile on the room and left.

Lord Whitlock blinked and pulled his attention away from the flames. He turned to Chastity, resting his hand over hers on his cheek and kissed her palm. "Maybe I'm a little too close to the fire," he said as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "That's enough." he ordered. The automaton that had turned its attention to the fire stopped agitating the coals. "That'll be all." The brass-cogged machine set the poker down on the hearth, bowed and scuttled out of the room with clockwork precision. Lord Whitlock released Chastity's hand and sat forward. Chastity followed his gaze as he looked over to Hattie. She was a slender woman, taller than Chastity and always had a stiff posture making her exterior seem hard and cold to a stranger. She wore her long, brown hair pinned up neatly into a tight bun which didn't help the serious look she wore as a mask. It was no wonder she was still a spinster, Chastity thought.

"Please sit down, Chastity, there is something we must tell you." Lord Whtlock said.

"What is it, Father?" Chastity frowned. "It's not your health is it?" she held out her hand to touch him again, "are you sick Pa-pa?" Lord Whitlock held her hand and guided it gently away from his face.

"My health is fine, please, Chastity sit down." he tapped.

Chastity hurried back to her chair. Hattie put her needlework back down on the table beside her and perched on the end of her seat like a bird, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Chastity looked at her sister. "Hattie?"

Hattie opened her mouth to speak but Lord Whitlock held up his hand. "Allow me, Hattie... it's my doing."

"Doing? What has been done? What's going -."

"I'm so sorry." Lord Whitlock slumped over, placing his head in his hands.

Chastity started nibbling at her nails, a terrible habit she'd had since a child. 'You'll never get a husband with nails looking like that' Hattie would mock. 'Well, maybe I don't want one' she'd retort. Chastity wore the beautiful dresses expected of her and kept her blonde-ringlet-locks long and clean, but she wasn't really a 'lady' in the practical sense of the word, much to Hattie's annoyance.

"Don't bite your nails, Chastity." Hattie frowned.

Chastity ignored her and looked to their father. "What is it you both aren't telling me?"

Lord Whitlock looked up. "My dear girl. I'm afraid I've failed to keep the promise I made to your mother," he began to sob. Chastity had only ever seen her father cry once before and didn't like where this was going.

"If you're not ill then whatever could be so terrible, Pa-pa?"

"It's my investment ... the railways ... it's all gone terribly wrong." His hands trembled as he tried to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. "The house, our name, it's all in ruin."

Chastity gasped a hand over her mouth and turned to her sister. "You knew about this?" she pecked. Hattie pursed her lips and sniffed, her stiffened posture tight as the automatons that served them. She didn't reply. "How long have you been keeping this from me, is there not something we can do?"

"I should've listened to your mother ... she was right, I should've stopped when the going was good ... with all this new technology it was only a matter of time." Lord Whitlock finally looked his daughter in the eye. "I took a chance, re-invested all my shares with a new scheme some months ago. They assured me I'd double, triple even, what I put in a decade ago."

"What happened?" Chastity demanded.

"The wool was pulled over my eyes, my dear girl. The scheme, I'm afraid, was fraudulent ... I've lost everything."

Chastity stood. "No! ..." She started pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "There must be a mistake?"

"There's no mistake, Chastity. They'll be coming for the house soon."

"How soon?" Chastity demanded. Lord Whitlock looked down. She looked to her sister. "Hattie?"

"They have been lenient. Two months. If father can't come up with the funds by Christmas, we'll be seeing in the New Year on the streets." Hattie calculated coldly.

Chastity held her hands to her head. "Two months? There must be something we can do?"

"There is one thing, my dear Chastity ..." Lord Whitlock piped in. He looked to his daughter with a glint of hope etched in his eyes.

Hattie stiffened, her head tilted to one side like birds do when their ears pricked. "Oh?" she interrupted.

Lord Whitlock ignored her. " ... Something only you can do, my dear Chastity."