AN: In case I have readers and in case they are wondering, I did delete most of the chapters. Mainly because of the mistakes, and because I decided to change the plot a bit; also, Melissa Shanks is now known as Victoria Kensington, and she may act a bit different. Reviews equal updates!

-Saroo

Chapter Two

Letters From Father

I sit in my room glumly, staring out the window as dense sheets of monotonous rain obscure the scenery. My mood is as foul as the weather, for Victoria Kensington has made it clear to the entire student body of Hawkesbury that I am not to be spoken to, mingled with, and or acknowledged in any fashion. Obviously Winnie had been pulled aside and informed of this, and my shouting at her clearly gave her a reason to withdraw from my company; how splendid. I brought it upon myself.

One thing Winnie had said to me remains in my memory quite clearly, the bit about my unladylike-ness, which while does not surprise me in the least, does sting. I suppose it is true, I am most certainly the least ladylike of all the Hawkesbury girls, and I do happen to resemble a Warf rat in some respects. My hair is a mess of black curls swept atop my head miserably and tumbling about, and my eyes are not the fashionable baby-blue color, a sprightly green, or a chocolaty brown, rather a smoky navy-grey with no one definite color, rather a muddle of many. My nose is dainty, but slightly turned up at the end and sprinkled liberally with freckles. My figure, if you could call it so, is almost non-existent and I'm a bit vertically challenged, being of five feet and two inches in height, and too skinny for fashion's tastes. Plumpness is valued. But I try not to be vain, and usually avoid any reminder of these facts.

I grow weary of watching the endless succession of rain, and move to my writing desk to pull out the letters Father has sent me. He is out at sea again, on his last voyage, as he begins to grow old and feeble in his years. Vladimir Castalion, a very rich and very arrogant Spanish merchant has taken Father on as a special guest aboard one of many of his vessels, to travel along the Barbary Coast; Father mailed me a letter before he left, telling me of his departure, and explaining that he had "much business to discuss with Mr. Castalion, of which I will tell you when the time is right…" I doubted this was so, for Father never bothered to speak of his ventures with me before, but I just assumed he was trying to flatter, and never bothered again with regarding his brief letter of departure. Though now I withdrew his most recent crumpled letter dated a few months back, also from Father, and reread it.

Dearest Daughter,

I read aloud and then laughed, for his writing was wobbly and a blot of ink smudged the fine paper underneath the word dearest. I did not feel dear when the writer had not taken to time or effort to properly shape his letters or control his pen, even a smudge of drink had stained the bottom corner of the paper.

I trust you are well and your studies are progressing rapidly, I will be glad to return from my journeys aboard the MARY CELESTE to find a well-turned, finely finished daughter.

And then with the first customary attention to me over with, he plunged away from the uncertain grounds of which he knew extraordinarily little and began to speak vaguely of some purchases he made, a few characters he met aboard the ship, and then began his usual round of praising Vladimir Castalion, as he did with every other of the five letters he had sent me in the eight months he had been away.

"… Lord Castalion is a fine man, prosperous and generous, two traits that I find rarely coincide. I feel that you would greatly enjoy his company and if it agrees with you, my daughter, I would arrange a meeting between you and Lord Castalion, I believe you would find it very pleasant, for he is a wealthy man, and under the right circumstances, could greatly improve mine situation …"

I reread the paragraph a couple times; feeling quite bothered by it and trying to discern it's exact meaning. Surely Father was not implying marriage to the man! That is completely ridiculous! Why, Father would be mad to assume that I would do such a thing to 'improve mine situation' or his, I suppose. I'm sure it would improve his situation vastly, but he must care a bit for me, otherwise he would not ship me off to a merchant likely forty years older than I.

Finding these thoughts uncomforting I stuffed the letters into the top drawer of my desk and poked at the hearth to draw the flames back to life, for the room had adapted a sudden chill and the crackling of the fire pushed back the thick silence that constantly enveloped it.

"The rain has stopped," I murmured to myself looking out the window and seeing only a couple of lone raindrops falling from the ledge above the window. Gloomy clouds were still huddled in the sky and blocking out the sunlight but I suddenly felt an urge to shake off the gloom of the day and decided to take a walk through the common. No one need know of it, and certainly I wouldn't be missed, not with Victoria Kensington's latest edict haven been passed, at least.