HBC + character One Shots!

Julia Hoffman | Do not analyze me

Well well well...

If I can't write on an already existing chapter? Write a new one ☝️

I've been reading a bit and found myself drawn to the third person perspective, so let's try it.

I can't get my mind off of Julia.. so let's get into it!

(Also I'm making it so that Elizabeth is the mother of David and Carolyn. Only David's father got lost at sea. Also, Victoria will not be in this story.)
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Aunt Liz had a special way of ensuring things turned out exactly as she wanted. Her niece on the other hand.. did not. Y/n found herself on the front step of the Collinwood manor after just one feeble phone call. Home, she believed she once called it all those years ago. While her mother, one of three sisters, had no interest in the fishing business, Elizabeth enthusiastically took over her father's legacy. Y/n herself found that fish could be extraordinary, if only kept alive and not in a factory. Two ends met when her aunt called about urgent meetings, not only had David scared off yet another governess, a strange man waltzed into their home claiming to be a distant relative.. how very strange.

Willy's face, although not a pleasant view, reminded her of the past as she entered through the front doors. To think it had already been 6 years since she left for college. Having been 18 and never stepped a foot out of the country itself felt miserable, y/n felt oddly trapped and kept from the world. The sisters compare her to her cousin, Carolyn, quite a bit. Paintings still coated the walls of Collinwood manor, the generations before us staring into the room and eyeing all the cobweb the housekeeper had missed.

"Dear Y/n! At last."

Aunt Liz stood by the stairs, her presence calming the young woman before her. Even through visits had they missed each other, their lives acting as if to avoid rendezvous. Y/n let go of the handle to her suitcase, packing up could wait. She was back, finally back, the place looking as it did when she left, the people still here.

"Carolyn will be thrilled to see you, and you must meet the other residents, Doctor Hoffman and Mr Collin's that I've written about." The woman held her within her arms tightly, as if her niece would soon evaporate back to Ireland without a second notice. "Though I must warn you..-" a sight released next to y/n's cheek. "The Doctor might take a while to warm up, not exactly the cheerful type."

Y/n knew about the doctor, how aunt Liz had written about her when she first arrived at Collinwood. Feverish red hair that, according to Liz, made her look pale. That the only time she had a flush of color on her face was when she had a glass of whiskey in her hand. The doctor seemed rather in need of a doctor herself, but it was the best a newspaper ad could offer, so Liz took it. Besides, David, y/n's younger cousin, seems to have taken steps forwards with the doctor. Much needed steps at that.

The letters usually started with the formalities, more often ending with the reoccurring words of 'coming back'. Well, back she was, and her old room looked just as she left it. Liz helped her with the suitcase up the stairs, having done the same procedure many times before. A certain chill went through the young woman as she walked up to the window of her old room, that familiar feeling of a calming shudder running through her. To be back in Collin's port, to be back home.

"I'll give you time to pack up, after all you must rest before dinner." Liz stopped by the doorframe, fidgeting slightly with her hands as she descended down the stairs. Her voice echoed through the air. "I'll call for you."

Six years had passed, six long years without the forest, the breeze of fresh water splattering over your skin as one could walk along the viaducts. Y/n had missed that feeling, though that smell, not as much. But as one gives, one must take away. Her mind wandered to what she could remember before her departure, the lovely apples that grew on the trees in the garden, that one time she'd accidentally found one half of a worm in one of the apples.. daring to keep chewing to find the remainder of the worm.