The Abduction of Charlotte Brooks
She was quite young when it had happened but the memory was still fresh in her mind. Late one night in 1680 a large crew of Pirates had arrived in London and began a mass raid of the city, triggering chaos. Shops were robbed, families killed and riches stolen. Her father, Commander Vincent Brooks rallied the defence and fought back against the Pirates and their Captain.
It had been a long and violent night, full of bloodshed. She could remember holding onto her mother for dear life when the Pirates had stormed their home and how her mother had fought against them, only to fall at the stab of a sword. The dirty, ugly face of the man who had slain her mother never left her mind, nor did the look of delight on his face when he and his companion noticed her hiding underneath the table.
She screamed and ran for her life, the pirates laughing as they chased her only to be stopped by members of the defence who had seen the house on ablaze. The pirates fled and Charlotte and her deceased mother were moved into a safer location. She later heard stories how her father had fought the captain of the pirate crew and had brought the end of him and how the first mate, Andre West, had sworn vengeance against him as they fled.
Even though it did not bring her mother back, Charlotte had always felt that the killing of the Captain had been revenge enough. He had brought those men into her city and was therefore responsible for all the murders that had taken place that night.
From that time on, Charlotte's Father rarely let her out of his sight. He had taken her on all of his journeys across the seas, determined never to leave her alone, never to leave her defenceless.
'Do you not think it is unwise to bring her along on the seas?' asked one of the crewmembers as she stood at the end of the boat, looking down at the waves crashing against the ship.
'I would rather protect her myself than leave her in the care of someone I cannot fully trust,' replied Charlotte's father sternly, his tone indicating the subject was not open to discussion. 'Andre West knows of her and knows she is my weakness. I'd rather keep her close to me where I can protect her.'
The threat made by the Andre West had been an empty one as no pirates had arrived to seek revenge against her father in the last sixteen years. Of course there had been Pirates in the city since then but they only took part in petty crimes and were rounded up quickly- enough of them that is. There were always holes for rats and snakes to hide in.
Her Father had been given the highest honour after that terrible night, ensuring their family enough wealth and power for the coming years. Her Mother's death never went forgotten and was always mourned by those who knew her. Her Father never remarried and, although it was customary for someone of her age to be married by the age of Twenty-One, Charlotte remained at home and in his company.
She highly suspected that he didn't want to part with the last trace of his wife but she knew sooner or later it would have to happen. Of course people understood and sympathised with her Father but Charlotte was certain there were whispers about how unconventional and shameful it was not to have a daughter married by her age.
She was aware that the son of a trading company had mentioned to his Father how he would like to see more of her and from what she had heard, there had been talks about it yet her Father seemed hesitant. She could do worse, she thought. Much worse.
'By God, Vincent!' cried Wells, the Owner of the Trading Company, as a servant filled his wine glass. He was a short, round man with a thick grey moustache. 'She is Twenty-One! Surely it is time for her to be married?' he smiled drunkenly, nodding at Charlotte who sat at the end table next to Mr. Well's Son, James.
She was dressed in the finest black corset and dress, complimenting her voluptuous figure and bust and her golden blonde hair was fashioned in a series of bouncy curls. She beamed at her Father with her wide blue eyes and he turned looked down at his half empty glass thoughtfully.
One of the servant boys quickly came over to refill it, although her Father didn't seem to pay him much attention. Charlotte found herself looking at the servant boy but only briefly. He was new, she noted. She had been here many times and knew all of the servants' faces, even if she didn't know their actual names.
She had taken to giving each of them their own petname, although she never addressed any of them that way. She didn't quite know why she did it but entertained her. It was as if she were creating characters from life-sized dolls and seeing them interact with each other on invisible strings.
'Perhaps you are right,' was his response and Mr. Wells laughed heartedly.
'James is going to Spain next Friday on some business,' said Mr. Wells, now smiling broadly, his cheeks flushed. This was the drunkest she had ever seen him. 'Perhaps Charlotte could accompany him?'
Her Father's head jerked up, looking alarmed. Mr. Wells only laughed again, patting him on the arm.
'Calm down, dear fellow,' he said. 'I only meant to see what kind of business James and I do. After all, when was the last time she left London?'
'Oh yes, Father!' piped up Charlotte. 'It's been so long since I've been abroad. Please can I go?'
Vincent looked torn. Charlotte's face was lit up with excitement and he hated to disappoint her. The last time they had been abroad she had been fifteen and, if memory served him correctly, she had been miserable the entire trip. Andre, Vincent noted, had not been heard of for years and must have surely have been killed by another pirate crew.
Slowly, Vincent nodded and Charlotte clapped her hands together.
'Thank you, Father!' she exclaimed happily and her Father gave a feeble smile. Charlotte tried not to look too happy about the prospect of a new adventure and it was only when she noticed the new male servant smiling at her did her own smile falter.
He followed his fellow servants into the corridor but something about him had unnerved her.
'Excuse me,' she said, still smiling and got up from her seat and went into the corridor, where she saw the male servant going up the stairs. Pulling up her dress slightly, she followed him up the stairs and round the corner.
He turned, looking amused. 'Anything I can help you with, Miss?' he asked.
Charlotte froze, unsure of what to say. Why had she followed him up here again? Because there was something in that smile, the very smile he was giving her right now, that intrigued her.
'What is your name?' she asked suddenly.
'Jimmy, Miss,' he replied and bowed, still smiling wittily. Was he being sarcastic with her? 'Is there anything the Madam requires?' he asked.
'N-no,' she stammered. 'I was just heading to the rest room. I'm feeling rather ill,' she lied.
'Then don't let me keep you, Miss,' he said and stood aside to let her pass.
Blushing furiously, she walked past and went into the rest room, only coming back after she had decided enough minutes had passed. She did not see Jimmy for the rest of the night.
Charlotte and her Father returned home a few hours later and bade each other good night. Charlotte was helped out of her corset and dress by one of her maid's and slipped into her nightdress before retiring, the imagery of the ocean now playing in her mind and she fell asleep with a smile.
*
The next day Charlotte went to an afternoon tea to tell her friends of what had transpired the night before.
'James Wells is a good man,' commented Victoria, smiling. 'Imagine all the travelling you could be doing. Finally you can go on those adventures you dreamed of as a child. Ones not restricted by your father's wishes,' she added.
Charlotte laughed. 'I doubt I'll be doing much travelling with him and nothing is official yet,' she reminded them.
'James Wells has been requesting more time with you for the past year,' said Francesca, taking a sip from her cup. 'I would not be surprised if you're married by next summer.'
Charlotte reddened at this and drank from her cup with no comment, thinking over Francesca's remark. Could she really be married by next year? How would her Father feel about this? Happy or sad? She tried not to think about this and joined the conversation again.
'I would have to say yes before such a thing transpires,' she reminded them, smiling.
'James Wells is a diamond in the rough,' replied Francesca. 'This city is full of well off men, but not many good ones. He would treat you like a Queen. If you do not agree to marry him, I certainly will.'
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, bringing her cup to her lips. 'You would have to work very hard to divert his attention from me,' she smiled.
Francesca shrugged, smiling herself. 'Oh, I am sure I could find some way to grab hold of his attention.'
Victoria sighed, rolling her eyes. 'Oh can you two please stop antagonising each other?' she asked.
'We are not antagonising each other,' replied Francesca. 'Just a little joke. Now, if you'll excuse me,' she stood up and pushed her seat back. 'I'll only be a moment,' and she left the room.
Victoria leant in towards Charlotte, lowering her voice. 'She's right, Charlotte. James Wells would treat you very well but he will not wait forever. The last thing you want to see is Francesca walking down the street with James' children.'
'I suppose you are right,' Charlotte took a sip from her drink. 'But I do worry about my Father.'
Victoria's lips tightened. 'Charlotte, I admire your Father. I really do. But he has to learn to let go and let you live a life of your own. The sooner he realises that the better.'
*
Charlotte's excitement grew with each passing day. Her Father didn't share her enthusiasm and looked down right miserable, looking grimmer every day.
On the day of her departure, her Father accompanied her to the docks where they met James and his Father. Charlotte hugged and kissed her Father goodbye and, with the help of James, boarded the ship. She stood on the deck and waved to him, the salt water stinging her eyes but she smiled nonetheless.
