PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE IF YOU DON'T ALREADY. PLEASE. IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY.
Stupid fanfiction…the end of my last chapter [you may have noticed it was abrupt] was cut off, sadly. And I was already working on the next chapter [this one] so I can't re-post, for I delete them off my hp after they're posted. I'll just tell you what happens. It's a boring dinner for Margaret, Iverson's conceited and talks about himself the whole time, and he invites poor Maggie back to his manor, which he spent the dinner bragging about. Margaret declines, but he demands she come next week, some time before the ball. She agrees under the pressure of everyone's gaze, however reluctantly. So sorry that happened, I won't start work on the next chapter before I see the other one anymore! So thanks for your continued reading, and please review!
Charlotte got up earlier than usual, for she needed more time to get ready, but her mother was on a very strict schedule, forcing Charlotte to be downstairs for breakfast by seven 'o' clock every single morning, regardless of what day or occasion it was.
So Charlotte awoke at 5:30 instead of 6:30. She washed her face with buttermilk, and brushed her hair more than usual. She braided her hair in a blond twist, falling off her left shoulder and down to the middle of her ribcage.
She put on her favorite dress. It was aquamarine, and fell down to her ankles, showing her black buckled shoes. It did not come in at her hips, but rather at her waist, which Charlotte liked for it made her look skinnier than the rest of her dresses. A ribbon cinched around her waist, and she tied it in a big bow in the back.
She looked in the mirror. She liked how she looked today. She rarely braided her hair and she liked how she looked. She looked…different. But in a good way. It made her feel better, stand taller. She wanted to change something else. She took some of the hair out of her braid and let is swing out until it hung in front of her face. She walked over to her bedside table and opened the door, taking out a pair of silver scissors. She looked in the mirror again, admiring her face from all angles, giving herself a few more seconds to decide whether or not this was a good idea.
Snip snip snip the old scissors squeaked a little and golden blond hair fell around her feet. When she was done, bangs dusted her eyelashes, framing her face. For having no experience in cutting hair, Charlotte did remarkably well.
After the precise seven 'o' clock breakfast, Charlotte was free to leave the house. And she did, after all, that's why she got all dolled up! She picked up her skirts and quickly walked down to the blacksmith's. She knocked on the door.
Ross, with dirt streaked all over his face, answered. "Oh, hello!" he said. "Did you, uh, have an order?"
"No." Charlotte said confidently. "I just wanted to see your shop." She tilted her head and tried her best to look as if she had no ulterior motive whatsoever. "Is that okay?"
"Oh yes, yes, of course!" Ross stammered, stepping out of the doorway to allow her in. "There's not much to see, and you may get bored."
"Oh, I'm just curious is all." Charlotte said, walking into the dark and dust room. A fire burnt in the corner, with iron tools resting in it, for later use.
"Do you need to sit down? Are you thirsty?" Ross asked, wiping his hands on his breeches.
"No, no I don't want to be a hindrance!" Charlotte said, waving her hands. "I just want to watch you work."
Ross looked confused. "Really?" he furrowed his brow, as if he couldn't believe that Charlotte was saying something like that. "Well…if you're sure."
Charlotte smiled. "Just tell me if I'm in the way."
Ross nodded and turned back to his work, periodically checking over his shoulder.
Charlotte sat on a thick wooden rail, relatively close to the fireplace, and put her feet up on a little wooden stool. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. Her blond braid dusted her thigh and she had to blow her new bangs out of her eyes. They itched a little, but that might just be something she needed to adjust to.
She watched Ross just make…well, everything. Swords, pans, knives, you name it! While it was interesting to watch, after a while her butt began to hurt and her foot fell asleep. She rubbed her legs, for they were starting to ache. She didn't want to leave quite yet, but she was not made for sitting still. She had to move.
"Hey, Ross?" she asked, hoping she wasn't interrupting him.
He stood up and wiped his hands again. "What is it, Charlotte?" he replied, smiling.
"I was wondering…can I make something?" she asked, biting her lip and preparing for a 'no'.
"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"Well, I'm not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. But I've been sitting here watching you all day, and it looks so interesting. I was wondering if I could help you make something. Whatever, really. It's okay if I can't, I was just wondering." She looked at him and bit her tongue.
"Sure, I mean, if you want to." Ross said, taking her hand at first but dropping it.
Charlotte said nothing for a moment, Ross just touched my hand, oh my goodness. But she regained herself quickly and said, "Great!"
"Well I just have to make a hammer, so that's pretty easy." Ross said, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
"Okay, so what do we have to do?" Charlotte said.
"Well, first of all, are you sure you want to do this? It's sooty and dirty, and you might ruin your dress." Ross warned her.
"I'll be fine." Charlotte assured him. "It's just a dress."
"Well if you'll be fine…" Ross shrugged. "Here, you have to pour the molten iron into the mold. Don't get any on yourself, it'll burn like hell."
Charlotte wrapped her hands around the handle and lifted. It came up, but was still quite heavy, and was starting to tilt back towards the fire.
"Here…" Ross said a bit nervously. "Let me help you, I don't want you to spill any, though I'm sure you can lift it by yourself. Better safe than sorry." He smiled and wrapped his hands around hers, carrying it over to the mold.
Charlotte bit her lip. It was sort of like a hug, but not really. Regardless, her heart beat a little faster and she felt her stomach drop down. Together, they poured the iron into the mold. She could hear him breathing, for his head was right next to hers. Her stomach dropped. Again.
They walked back over and put the pot back into the fireplace. Ross held on to her hands a few seconds longer, but released her hands. He smiled at her.
"There, good job." He said. "It has to settle now, so there's not much more we can do."
"I actually kind of enjoyed that." Charlotte smiled, throwing her braid back so it fell down on her back. "Do you like your job?"
"Aye, I do." Ross smiled. "I like knowing that I can make most what I'll need. I'm good with woods too."
Charlotte smiled. "That's good. Where do you live? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
"Well, my family is up in New York, so I live in a little house outside of the town. It's more than enough space for me to be honest. It's got three bedrooms, and big rooms downstairs. But I got it for a good deal, and it'd be good for whenever I get married." He laughed. "Every time my mother writes, she always asks me if I'm married yet. She doesn't really seem to understand that I'm only eighteen."
Charlotte laughed with him.
"Watch out!" he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her away from the fire and towards himself. "Uh, sparks. You'll get burned." He said, still not releasing her.
"Oh, well thanks for not letting the backs of my legs get burned." Charlotte smiled, still not entirely believing that she needed to be pulled away that far from the fire. She had seen a fire before, and knew there was a very slim chance of sparks coming that far from that size of fire. But she didn't let go either.
"Well, uh, now what?" Ross laughed in his adorably awkward way.
"Well, I should probably be heading back." Charlotte smiled sweetly, looking at him to judge his reaction.
His face fell. "Yes. You'll probably be missed, won't you?" he bit the inside of his cheek. "Oh, I'm still holding on to you, aren't I?" he released her and put his hands behind his back, looking a little embarrassed.
Charlotte smiled. He liked her! He really did! Then Charlotte, being Charlotte, stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back immediately and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer again. Charlotte snaked her arms around his neck.
Eventually, she was the one who had to break away gasping for air. "Now," she gasped. "I really should go."
He mimicked a frown, but his genuine smile returned quickly. "Must you?" he held her closer. "What if I don't let you?"
"Well," Charlotte smirked and raised her eyebrows, "I guess you'll have to escort me to the Richardson's ball, now won't you?" she unraveled her arms and moved them to his arms, leaning back a little, so she could see his whole face.
"Richardson's ball?" Ross asked, genuinely confused.
"Yes, yes, I didn't know of it either before this year, but apparently it is quite extravagant. Which is why the meager common people are not told of it." She said sarcastically.
"Well then how do you know of it? Urm, not to be rude, or anything." Ross asked.
Charlotte waved a hand as if to brush off any idea of him being rude. She didn't think he possibly could. "Well, my best friend, Margaret Davidson, do you know her?" Ross nodded and Charlotte continued. "Well she got an arranged marriage, and to Iverson, of all people!"
Ross made a disgusted face, but it disappeared quickly.
"You don't like him either?" Charlotte laughed.
"Well," Ross said. "He's given me some business, so I can't exactly be rude directly to him. But he didn't have the same respect with me. He was rude, said awful things, and kept try to test the sword I made for him out on me. Though I do believe he was drunk that day."
Charlotte gasped. "That's awful! Did you not tell anyone? A constable, perhaps?"
"What good would it have done?" Ross shrugged. "He did not actually hurt me, so there was no need to report him, and with no evidence other than a few empty brandy bottles, there is no way anyone would believe me!"
Charlotte sighed and looked down.
"I'm sorry for getting off topic," Ross said. "You were saying?"
Charlotte said, "Well, horrible man he is, Margaret is being forced to marry him. But because he is probably the richest man in town, that has instantly made Margaret a member of high society. And apparently we are known as a pair, so I was invited along. As was her little sister, Mary, but she's a bit of a pain."
Ross laughed, "You do not already have an escort?" he asked, hopefully.
Charlotte perked up. "Nope!" she pulled herself closer. "I was hoping you would escort me." She said, trying to make her green eyes wider. She tended to get what she wanted when she did that.
"I would love to!" Ross said smiling, but that smile disappeared quickly. "But I was not invited. I am not friends with anyone rich, nor am I rich myself."
"That does not matter!" Charlotte said. "Escorts do not need invitations."
"Oh!" Ross smiled. "Then I would love to escort you! When is it?"
"Later this Month! August…28th, I believe. Six 'o' clock! We're going in the same carriage with Mary, Margaret, and Iverson, if that's okay."
"Sounds lovely" Ross smiled, and kissed Charlotte again, though quicker this time.
"Fantastic!" Charlotte smiled. "But Ross?"
"Yes?"
"Can you let me go? I really have to go now."