The Picture of Composure.
I looked down into the waters and saw fish so bright they hurt my eyes.
Little jewels; some smaller than minnows, some bigger than pigs.
It was another world down there. A blue and green Eden
This is a life of wonder, Charlotte Wells...
...
The wind whipped about her face, tossing her curls and causing her cheeks to sting.
The air tasted salty and the sea was alive with fish of every single colour imaginable, bright topaz denizens of a world of green. It was a living and breathing garden of Eden...just as Daniel had once told her it would be.
Nevertheless, such things seemed of little importance...not to her and not now.
Charlotte sniffed, determined to maintain a certain steel in her composure as the shores of America approached them.
It was barely a fine white line beyond the horizon, but it had undoubtedly made it's presence known. Bold and bright at the edge of her vision...a fresh start.
With every passing moment, Charlotte moved further and further from her family, her home and the only life she had ever known in London. It had been a brutal life, a tough life, but a life that had still somehow managed to reap for her it's scattered moments of happiness amongst the pain and hardship.
Lucy would be safe now. After all, nothing said guilty to an uptight judicial system like a scorned harlot practically fleeing from the supposed scene of a crime. Charlotte knew that no one would ever doubt that Sir George Howard's blood was on her hands...that jealous bitch Haxby's testimony had more than seen to that.
The water that surrounded her for miles and miles glistened blue and green. It called to mind the sapphires and emeralds that had once adorned the gifts of her former admirers.
It was that stray thought that once again reminded her of her Ma and of the gifts she had given her and Lucy growing up; the gifts of love, of family and of whoredom.
Charlotte was sure that it was only ever in the Wells Family where the three could somehow co-exist in tandem with one another. It was a thought that in equal parts made her feel nostalgic and proud...but also felt like a kick to the stomach.
"Alright, love?", a voice called from behind her in a familiar Irish brogue.
His voice was warm and open, a stark contrast to how she endeavoured to maintain her heart...caged comfortably inside of her.
Charlotte felt Daniel's chest briefly press against her back as he reached out to take her hand, his fingers easily and effortlessly finding hers.
For a moment she frozen, still unused to such affection from a man who didn't expect to be buried deep inside of her, chasing their own pleasure, half a minute later.
Despite her conflicted emotions, the thought made her smile slightly.
Hers was a true and honest smile, a smile that she would have once laughed scathingly at and berated herself for...but not now, not when he looked at her so earnestly.
In finding Daniel had Charlotte Wells couldn't help but wonder if she had found a treasure?...perhaps she had. (Either way, a part of her wanted to believe so, wanted to trust his word)
It was in that moment, with the wamth of Daniel's body encompassing hers and gently bringing her back to her new reality, that Charlotte realised how hard that she had been gripping on to the railings of the ship-with such ferocity that her knuckles had turned deathly pale and her nails had created fleshy scarlet moons upon her palms.
She hadn't noticed...but Daniel seemed to.
Charlotte released a breath, a breath that she scarcely knew that she had been withholding all this time.
She let her head dip back slightly against Daniel's shoulder, accepting his silently offered comfort and comeradery.
His fingers brushed over her knuckles as she loosened her hold on the side of the ship, using him as her anchor instead.
"I will be", she replied gruffly, ever the picture of composure.
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