The Ruby in the Storm

Prologue

Prologue

Fredrick,

I write this to you with the utmost urgency. I am calling in that favor.

Robert Quincy

XXX

Phillip,

Do not let her stay on that island. She must be taken away before James Boatwright arrives. I fear his intentions for her.

Leave the rest to me.

Robert Quincy

XXX

Grenmar, Derbyshire, 1842

Fredrick Doyle sorted through his letters on a late Wednesday afternoon, trying to organize them. As of late, he had many sent to him from one particular individual, a close associate and rather important friend, Robert Quincy. They all said the same thing, reminding him of the favor he owed him. Fredrick was well aware of it, he only feared how it was Robert thought he would pay.

Sitting back in his chair, Fredrick glanced out the window of his extensive estate. Shelter Hall was a well-known property in Derbyshire. He had run it since his father's passing. His brother, Phillip, opened his estate of Carrington, named after their mother's maiden name, on the other side of Grenmar, in the hopes of sharing it with a wife. As it was, neither men had had much luck in that endeavor. Fredrick was constantly away on business, and Phillip just could not settle on one girl.

But now, time was not on his side. Fredrick was not the young man he used to be. Granted, he was also not old, he had time to marry a young woman and it not look like a desperate cry for help. But still, he did not want to push his luck. He needed to have a son to inherit Shelter Hall, or it would go to his cousin, Jacob, a man Fredrick was not fond of at all.

Thinking about that made him cringe, but he tried to school such thoughts away. Now that his travels would be limited due to the season, so he would have more time to spend looking around for eligible girls. Responding to invitations, attending balls and other such social gatherings. He was usually an amiable guest; perhaps he would meet someone or be introduced at least. Anything was better than the poor progress he would have been making otherwise.

Glancing down at his desk, Fredrick spotted the first note that Robert Quincy had sent him and picked it up.

Fredrick,

I write this to you with the utmost urgency. I am calling in that favor.

Robert Quincy

For the life of him, Fredrick was not sure how he could possibly fail the man if he did not know what it was that he wanted. Still, he would have to be patient; it wasn't as if other notes had provided much clarity.

He just hoped it wasn't something entirely out of his control.

XXX

Clayton Island, 1843

Charlotte Morgan descended the steps of her home and managed to make it to the front doors in time for the sea soaked man to come stampeding in, throwing off his coat in the process. She resented the sight of him, as always.

Once a proud and handsome man, now Ross Beauchamp was nothing but a gaunt, bearded ghost. His eyes were dead, but still constantly on edge, as though waiting for an outcome that was never going to happen. The strength in his body had not dwindled, but he carried himself in a hunched manner, as though trying to appear weaker. She didn't recognize this man but, then again, it was likely he did not recognize himself either. He was not Captain Ross Beauchamp, he looked like he belonged in a gutter.

"You'll catch a cold if you keep standing out on the shore in this weather," she chided him as he dried his hands. "Ross, you're shaking."

"I'm fine," he grunted. Of course, he was always fine.

"Let me fix you something warm..." Charlotte picked up his coat. "Come, sit by the fire."

Ross wordlessly followed her into the kitchen. He was a man of few words these nights, but Charlotte had since accepted it. She was only glad that he had come to her in his hour of need.

But that was over ten months ago. Surely his needs were met, or at least he would explain to he why he had come at all.

As Ross dried by the fire, Charlotte prepared some hot water for tea, and continued glancing over her shoulder to watch over him. He was still shaking.

"Why do you keep going out there?" She asked. "Rain or shine, you're on that bloody shore, why?"

"You don't need to know," he grunted.

"Ross, I loved you once," Charlotte snapped. "You knew that, so you came here seeking shelter. I gave it to you and I will continue to do so, but the least you could do is tell me why you are here. It's been almost a year, and nothing! You've told me nothing!"

Ross looked up at her with a thoughtful expression. "It's best you don't know."

Charlotte scoffed. "Don't give me that. The Ross Beauchamp I remember was never cryptic. Is it a woman? You can tell me."

Ross gave her a look, and she had her answer. "You could have told me sooner."

"I did not know how you would react," he whispered. "We did not leave things on good terms, Charlotte, I did not want to risk hurting you further."

"Ross, I had my fiancé leave me alone here on this island, there is nothing that you can do that will hurt me any more than I am already hurting," Charlotte sat down next to him. "Tell me, who is she? Perhaps talking about it will make you feel better."

"I doubt that," Ross's eyes grew distant. "I did a horrible thing for her, and I lost her."

Charlotte frowned. He was opening up now more than ever; perhaps she should have confronted him sooner.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued. "What I did for her I would do again, in a heartbeat. But to lose her again... God, I couldn't survive that."

"You loved her," it wasn't a question.

"I love her," Ross corrected. "I still do, and I always will."

A woman finally captured Ross Beauchamp's heart, Charlotte had to be impressed. But what was it that he had done to lose her?

"You go to the shore to see if she will come find you?" She asked, keeping her voice steady.

Ross nodded. "Yes," then, he chuckled. "When we first met, she asked me if I was content having a woman wait for my return. I don't remember my answer, that seems a lifetime ago, but here I am now, waiting for her to come back to me."

"Will she?"

He shrugged. "I can only hope."

Yes, Charlotte thought, that's all you can do, Ross, because this woman is not coming for you. I should know... I was that woman.

"I'm sure your mother is not too fond that you're gone again," Charlotte whispered.

"She will understand," Ross whispered, more to himself than to her. "In time, you will all understand why I did what I did."

Silence followed that statement, and Charlotte felt herself slowly back away from this shell of the man she once loved.

________________________

Author's note: Annnnnd blast off! :)

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