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Forward

"Miss Charlotte! Are you ready to go? Your mother and father are waiting for you by the carriage!" Lydia called from the foot of the stairs.

"Give me a moment!" I replied. I took one last fleeting glance at my half-empty room, carrying whatever wouldn't fit in my bags loosely in my arms, namely my fairytale books. I often wondered what it would be like to be in one of my favorite fairytales. What it would be like to have a handsome prince sweep me off my feet. And, more often, what my happy ending would be like.

"Charlotte?" called the very same woman who was more of a mother to me than my real mother ever was. Now my mother loved me dearly, and I loved her. But she hardly ever had time for me. When she wasn't with my sister, Agatha, she was pacifying Father. Father was a good man, really, but he had a terrible temper. One mishap and he was frothing at the mouth. Mother always sent Aggie and I away when his temper overcame his logic. My sister, however, was always sick. She'd constantly cough and was almost always bedridden. Honestly, I wondered why my sister was even going on this voyage, or why, with his quick temper, father was even a General at all.

Chapter 1

Lydia stopped me before I could get to the door. "You shall need a coat, sweet. I do not want you to fall ill."

As I shifted the items in my arms, putting my free arm through my outstretched coat, I said, "But Lydia, I'm never ill!" At ten, I was awfully mature. With mother, father, Agatha, and Lydia, our housemaid, always busy, I had nothing I'd rather do than to read. In London, (in the words of Lydia) it was always either "Too hot!" or "Too cold!" or any other weather condition you could think of, so going outside was usually out of the question. Plus, I almost never had anyone to play with! What fun would that be?

"Yes, Charlotte, I know," Lydia sighed. "But would you just wear it anyway?"

I smirked up at her, coat fully on. "I am, aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled down at me anyway. "I'm going to miss you, little one," she murmured, eyes suddenly sad.

Though I was sad as well, I tried not to show it. "I'll be back in a year! Father said that it would not take too long for those ignorant Colonists to give in!" I chirped.

Lydia frowned. "Do not ever think that way. People are people. We are all the same. The Americans are no better or worse than us." She leant down to my height. "Promise me something, little one. When you meet a Colonist, anyone for that matter, see him or her for who they really are. Not for how people have branded them. You never know, that person may play the biggest role in your life."

I nodded, my grip tightening on my books. "Okay."

Lydia stood once again, taking my small, soft hand, in her larger, rougher one. "Come. Let us not keep your parents." She led me through the foyer and out into the winter. Snow had blanketed the ground, and everything seemed a constant shade of white.

Without a word, she led me to the awaiting carriage. The driver went to open the door. It was almost comical; how he waddled to it. By no means was he fat, but he was so bundled up that his arms stuck out from his sides like a penguin. I wondered idly if Agatha knew what a penguin was. She had missed so many days of tutoring stuck in in bed.

"Here you are, sweet. Get into the carriage," Lydia told me. I wouldn't budge from my spot, realization finally kicking in that I would be leaving Lydia for a year, possibly even more. Lydia, who carried me inside when I had broken my leg. Who pacified me when I had found a dead rabbit in our front lawn. Who came to my side when I had a nightmare and sing me to sleep with her melodious voice. How I even got to the carriage without breaking down into a puddle of tears was a mystery even to me.

I leapt forward, clasping my arms around Lydia's waist. "Won't you come with me?"

Lydia wrapped her own, strong arms around my shoulders. "Oh, sweetheart. You know that I cannot. I have to stay and watch over the manor while your parents are away." She placed a gentle kiss atop my head and smiled down at me. "Go now, Charlotte. It won't be long before we see each other again. You'll have to tell me of your endeavors while in America. Perhaps keep a journal to keep all your thoughts down." She handed me a thick, blank, leather-bound book.

I nodded solemnly, untangling my arms to hold the book to my chest. "I will. I'll write everyday. I promise." I turned to the awaiting open carriage door. I whirled around one last time and said, "I love you!"

Lydia smiled warmly. "I love you too, my little sunbeam," she cooed, cupping my face gingerly, and wiping away a sole tear.

When I got into the carriage, I did not look out my window. Even as we drove away from the manor in London, I kept my eyes plastered on the books in my lap in fear that, if I looked at Lydia, I would burst out into tears, and I did not want Agatha to laugh at me.

It was a while before anyone said anything. Agatha had fallen asleep on mother, who was busying herself with Aggie's brown curls. I had always wondered why I had red hair and green eyes, whilst the rest of my family was brown and brown. When I would ask Lydia, she would say, "Because, when you were born, it was so sunny out that the sun had colored your hair, my little sunbeam. Your eyes are green for you ability to be one with nature." Which was true, the nature part, anyway. Whenever our tutor would have Aggie and I grow plants to further study science, mine would always flourish, while Aggie's always withered. And when we'd play hide-and-seek in the forest, I was the only one who could hide perfectly well in the foliage, and could easily maneuver the terrain without making a sound. I was smarter, though that probably had to do with Aggie always being sick. But she always had the uncanny ability to read something and memorize it perfectly, which is probably why she was so much better at the piano than I. While my fingers stumbled and I had to constantly crane my neck to look at the sheet music, making for a horrid take on Beethoven, Aggie's fingers played out the most beautiful song you've ever heard, for a five year old. As a lady in England, we were required to know how to play piano and sing. And while Aggie was very talented at the piano, her singing sounded much like she was dying. But I had always been praised for my voice, and that I must've taken after my mother. However, Aggie had also always had a knack for drawing. I won't even get into the terrible tale of how my sketch of a butterfly was thought to be that of a wilted flower.

When Agatha awoke about two hours later, she spoke for the first time out of all of us in the time we had been in the carriage. "Father?" she said in her small voice. "What are you looking at?"

Our father lifted his head from at least a half a dozen papers. "I am trying to figure out where to position my men, dear," he explained absently.

"Why are we going, anyway?" she pressed. I rolled my eyes. Shouldn't that be obvious? Father was a General for the British army. The others had called upon him.

Next to me, Father chuckled. "Because, Agatha," he began "those Colonists just don't know when to give up. They continue to fight for 'freedom'. I fear that this might even bring on a war!"

"They must be really stupid, then," Aggie concluded, a small frown playing on her face.

Father said nothing, but Lydia's words rang through my head. See them for who they really are. So, I said the first thing that came to my mind. "You're the stupid one. Have you ever met any of these people?" I left no room for answer. "No, of course not. You shouldn't be mean to people you don't know. You just make yourself look dumb."

Agatha and Mother gasped. "Charlotte Elizabeth Williams!" Mother shouted, and I knew I was in trouble. It always meant trouble whenever she used my full name. "Don't you ever call your sister 'stupid' again! Do you hear me?"

I hung my head, but inside I knew I was right. "Yes, mother," I muttered. Mother went to comfort the now crying Agatha, and father turned his head to look at me with disapproval, but he did not say anything.

From then on, the ride to the port was quiet and tense. Every now and then I would catch Agatha making ugly faces at me. Never once did I return them. Instead, I smiled at my brooding sister, throwing her for a tizzy every time.

When we reached the port, I gazed longingly at the vast ocean, though I didn't seem as enthusiastic as Agatha, who had her face plastered eagerly against the carriage window.

The driver opened my side first, and I thanked him when he helped me down. I was immediately intrigued by the hustle and bustle of the port. I watched as merchants and traders tried eagerly to sell their wares, and I marveled at the sheer size of the ships. I had never seen a ship in real life, only in paintings. I wondered if Lydia had ever seen one.

I was extremely glad when men brought our luggage to the largest ship and giddy when we climbed onto it. Though I was sad to see the retreating lands of my country, I was eager to see what America had in store for me.

That night, I opened the book and wrote:

Dear Lydia,

Although the trip on the carriage was boring, I want to share with you one thing. I called Aggie stupid. I told her what you told me. She judged the Americans before she met them. I corrected her. Oh, how could I forget? The ship we are on is large and cozy. I only wish you could see the ocean as I have! Aggie is sick again. She keeps claiming that it's the ship. But I can't see how a ship like this could ever make anyone sick!

I cannot wait to see this new world. I want to explore! But Father says I shouldn't, that there are savages out there. But I want to meet one!

Love,

Your little Sunbeam