When Charlotte Fairchild was very young she met a boy. A boy unlike any other she had ever met. The boy had vibrant red hair, was somewhat absentminded and fascinated by anything mechanical. He reminded her of a puppy and she couldn't help but care for him. His name is Henry Branwell and she didn't believe he would ever love her.
When she was roughly sixteen, her father told her that Henry had asked for her hand in marriage, implying heavily that he did it to resolve a debt between their fathers. Charlotte agreed to it simply because she thought that he might grow to love her with time.
Before marrying, though, the two decided to get to know each other better first.
The two went out for strolls in the evening, and carriage rides around town. They spoke rarely, for Charlotte did most of the talking while Henry smiled pleasantly and usually talked about ideas for new inventions.
Charlotte didn't understand what Henry went on about half the time, spluttering on about corks and springs, but she smiled at the sight of his face lighting up whenever he spoke of a new device he had created.
The wedding preparations were commencing, Charlotte already had her dress made and perfected. It was quite simple, yet beautiful. Like her.
It was two weeks before the wedding and Charlotte was indeed nervous. She knew Henry didn't really love her, why would he? But she wished he would, for she loved him more than she has ever loved anyone.
The two had gone out for a walk when it had started suddenly raining. Charlotte gave a little surprised shriek as the cold water came down fast and hard on them, soaking them greatly. Henry chuckled, and took her hand.
"Henry," Charlotte yelled over the rain. She was indeed soaked; her wet hair clung to her face as did her lovely satin blue dress to her body. I must look like a terribly drowned cat, Charlotte thought. She had never cared much about looks, but with Henry she wished to seem presentable.
Henry seemed to not have noticed Charlotte trying to tug away from his grip on her hand to run back to the safety of the dry, warm carriage. He grinned, his red hair clung to his face for he hadn't bothered to bring a hat.
"Would you like to dance?" henry shouted over the loud rain.
Charlotte looked at him as if he was half mad, like everyone else thought him to be. Henry held his hand out, beaming happily at Charlotte.
Her heart leaped, he's never looked at her like that before, at least not that Charlotte has noticed. Oh, why not, I'm already drenched anyway, Charlotte thought as she placed her hand in Henry's.
"You look very lovely Charlotte, soaking wet and all."
And so they danced, in the middle of a park drenched in rain and happily in love.