Chasing Charlotte

Chapter One

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." - Jane Austen

Chapter One

Shock decorated Charlotte's pretty features before the lines on her face contorted to anger at the man before her. Her grandmama on the other hand was casually sipping a cup of tea in heavy nonchalance.

"You're threatening to cut me off? Your own bloody sister? William Arthur Cecil you have the GOD DAMN NERVE," Charlotte's rage fumed as her hand was held against her brother whose face remained calm and passive.

"LANGUAGE CHARLOTTE GRACE CECIL," her grandmother hollered as the sound of the teacup plinked onto the table.

"This is for your own good Charlotte, I won't have my own sister turn herself into a bitter old spinster. Even though father was lenient in your ways, I will not have it" William argued as he brought his hand against his sister's risk, rendering her completely helpless as she had attempted to hurt him.

"How did my son spawn idiots? Must be the Cecil blood," their grandmother snorted as she whisked the spoon in her cup loudly. Grandmother Fanny was always one to speak her mind. The woman enjoyed her old age much better than the other ladies who belonged in a place of prestige.

"I inherited father's domain and you will do as I say Charlotte," William growled as the greens of his eyes flecked in stormy pools. They were the same shade as her own.

"You just want to marry me off so you can continue your little gambling games as you screw the whores behind the closet doors," Charlotte seethed. It was a low blow but she was angry. Angry that her damn pretentious brother was trying to turn her into a saint while he enjoyed the fruits of sin freely.

"Watch your mouth Charlotte."

"I'll have you kno-"

"ENOUGH!" The sound of a cane came thwacking down onto the backs of both of the Cecil siblings as Fanny stood up. For an old woman her age, she had surprising strength and even more sharp posture. "Don't be a brat Charlotte, you must respect your brother and his verdict. It's about time you got married before you ran that rotten mouth of yours all the way to India. And as for you, young man - I have my eye on you. I'll remove every young maid in this household. So stop copulating under my roof!" Her voice boomed as she bore her eyes into her grandchildren.

Even though William had been declared the Lord of Salisbury, all knew that the one who wielded the last say in their estates would be grandmother Fanny.

"I hope your stool is as tough as a brick," Charlotte hissed before she spun around and expelled herself from the parlour. The door closed with a grand slam as William had flung a book in her direction which thudded against the floor. This only resulted in another a smack from Fanny's cane and a yelp on his end.

Jonathan Lennox had returned to London precisely for a reason that many men of his status did. He was looking for a wife. But not any wife, he knew exactly which woman he would take.

He had heard of all the gossip circling the ton yearly and was glad to hear that his conquest had remained unclaimed for the time being. He remembered her so distinctively in his memories, Charlotte Cecil with her eggshell dress and blue ribbons. She was the one he wanted.

It was a memory he had hung onto with desperation. They were children at the time, only five years about but he remembered her distinctive voice piercing in his ear. As a boy, Jonathan was short and rotund, his cheeks filled out with fat and his skin darkened by the rays of the sun. On the contrary, she was a fair haired girl with flesh as light as cream.

She was sitting alone on the grass when he had approached her. Under the shade of the trees which framed her, she looked like an angel descended from the heavens. So lovely and untouchable that he had been nervous to speak to a five year old.

"Hello," his voice was soft as he glanced down at the mop of curly blond ringlets.

Charlotte had turned her face, petulant lip pressed together as she observed the boy who had dared trespass her sanctuary of relative peace.

"Y-you're very pr-" oh poor boy, he was stammering nervously as he attempted to shyly profess his thoughts.

"You're quite ugly," she stated with her brows furrowed together.

"I'm sorry, pardon?" Jonathan stammered unsure if he was hearing her correctly or he was being delusional. For someone as pretty and delicate looking as herself, to speak so cruelly was such a jarring juxtaposition.

"I said you're ugly! Leave me alone!" The girl hollered.

Startled by her brutal remarks, Jonathan did as she said and retreated glumly to his grandfather's side. He had held back his tears and looked down at the palms of his hands, pudgy and round, just like the little belly that was protruding out from his chemise.

It was then that Jonathan Lennox was resolute on being as handsome and worthy for a girl of unworldly beauty. He wanted to prove to her that he was very much an angel on earth as she was. And for the rest of his childhood, he kept this wisp of the past in his head.

Manhood had done wonders for the boy. The over indulgent flesh that he once had everywhere had almost evaporated into air. His cheeks were no longer filled with familiar baby fat, instead, his cheeks had sharpened out - revealing sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline that structured the contours of his face. The angle of his nose was chiseled like that of a sculpture, while his lips were carved with a sweetness, capable of curving into masculine smirks and devilish grins. The cerulean shades of his eyes were light and sprinkled with dusty grey flecks that made them look like a stormy night. The chestnut colored locks of hair framed his charming looks even more.

Even the form of his figure was a delicious sight to gaze at. Tall and built, his shoulders were strong and wide, looking as fit as a soldier. The image that Jonathan had perfected were all induced by his own forceful will. In truth, the man wasn't so powerful as he appeared, he always had a fragility when it came to the heat and on numerous occasions would pass out. The fact that he was anemic was discovered when he had insisted on riding horseback on hours straight and collapsed - breaking his leg and wrist during the fall. But he refused to allow such a setback hold him back. He was going to be a marvelous looking man.

And as strongly as he willed it, came wonderful results.

At the age of six and twenty, he was one of the most sought after bachelors in London. The time had come that he was to settle too and there was only woman for him. And he'd walk the ends of the earth just for her.

A/N: Hello! This is my first ever go writing a regency story and I'm attempting my best to make it feel historically fictional in some sense one way or the other. And I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I love writing this!