The Lady Pursues

Chapter One (Part 1)

A full three days before Mrs. Douglass' panicked suggestion to her mother, Charity Crewe had very little to trouble her. In fact, she was downright excited. She was to have a new morning dress and, for the first time, it was not of her mother's choosing nor one that had been previously worn by Prudence and made over for her.

It was the sort of thing that, according to Papa, was never in the coffers, but she supposed the coffers had tossed up an extra coin this year. For this dress would be hers alone, made for her and, rather than pinching here and sagging there, no matter how carefully poor Emilia mended it, it would fit her perfectly. Even her maid was quite eager to see it, since Charity had trusted no one but Emilia to choose the trim. It was quite the event!

Though Charity did try to hamper her own excitement. She was not so silly that she believed a dress was the answer to all things, but she liked the idea of being seen in the buttery yellow with its pale lace edging on her way to church on Sunday. She didn't care so much who saw it at church or even after. It was the journey there that counted. Ian would be driving, after all, and there was no way he'd be able to avoid seeing her, or possibly handing her up into the carriage, perhaps meeting her eyes as he did so and lingering...

But that wasn't the only reason she... Well, really, she had many more practical reasons for this dress than just... Oh, who was she fooling? 

There was no hope for it. Charity Crewe was in love with Ian Douglass, always had been and always would be. She didn't think it would be easy, getting the world or even her parents to agree to a match between them someday, but it would be a sight easier if Ian could just love her as well. So far, her efforts had not been fruitful.

1801

Charity hadn't always been in love with Ian, truth be told. When Ian and Mrs. Douglass had first come to live with them, she didn't care for him at all. He was always playing with Ernest, even during lessons, and they were always much too loud about it.

One day, when they'd plunked an old board half over the duck pond, Ernest was especially rude, taking Clarissa, her second favorite doll, from her sickbed. By then, he'd already spoiled her first favorite, Louise. He'd said she was a French aristocrat and needed beheading for her crimes. She'd always hoped Louise would die of typhoid fever. She'd been nursing her through it diligently, but there was little hope. She'd been planning the funeral for days now, but since Louise's head never was recovered, it would be a much more somber and tragic affair. With a closed casket... or cigar box, as the case may be.

She tried to keep her dolls well away from Ernest after that, but now he had poor Clarissa, who was already suffering from influenza. Drowning in the pond would only worsen her condition!

"Give her back," she yelled, but Ernest had turned his cravat into an eye patch by then and there was no reasoning with him. "She's deathly ill!"

"Yes, she infected the whole ship." Ernest snapped his fingers and turned to his cohort. "That's her crime and she needs to walk the plank."

Ian nodded as if this wasn't ridiculous. "It's probably the only way."

"No, she doesn't." Charity tried to get her, but Ernest held Clarissa high over his head. "Clarissa has done nothing bad and neither did Louise!"

"Ah, so you're against us, too. It's mutiny! Right, then!" Ernest grabbed her around the middle. "You're going overboard!"

Charity squealed, kicking at his shins, as her brother hefted her to the pond.

Ian stepped in front of him, however. "You can't do that. She'll fall in."

"That's the idea." Ernest grinned and hoisted Charity higher, trying to get her and her kicking legs over the rock bed and onto the shaky plank.