Pride and Prejudice Fan Fiction
Unlocked Cage
"Thank you," Caroline said, her heart lightened by the prospect of a fresh start as she left the library, the morning sun casting long shadows across the polished floors.
Hudson Estate
CH. 3
Carlisle was gentle as a dove, could hold an injured child, and soothe them with a melodic tune. However, he was also a gentleman who could slam down his fist and turn his enemy into powder with one fell swoop. Nonetheless, Carlisle seldom -if ever- had a need to do so, for people respected the man greatly.
His eyes were as sharp as a razor and caught many things others missed. The man's dark hair, in his youth, had been allowed to grow to his shoulder blades but was now not allowed below the top of his collar. The same eyes could turn soft as butter, and his mouth as tender as a mother's whisper to her sleeping child.
Carlisle was, in fact, five feet nine inches tall but had the habit of wearing boots. He had worked long, hard hours, right along with his tenants, to obtain the estate he now owned. The gentleman actually owned four estates, none of which had been obtained dishonestly. He had worked to the bone for two of them, and the others... those he had been shocked to find them willed to him after they had been bought by a gentleman whose son had been killed overseas.
"Mister Hudson," one of the outdoor laborers walked up to where he was working. "The butler asked me to bring you this."
Carlisle wiped his brow with his sleeve and broke the seal. "Well, that is a relief," he handed the paper back to the worker. "We will not have to concern ourselves with that western estate anymore, and we can focus on improving this one." One of the two estates left to him had simply been too far for him to properly check up on.
"So…" a worker asked as he came in from the field. "It has been sold?"
"Yes, it has been sold." Turning to the worker who had brought it out, Mr. Hudson told him to take it back to the house and have Mr. Westover place it on Mr. Hudson's desk. "I will be in soon to get a bite to eat."
The mail would have been put there in the first place, only Mr. Hudson had given instructions that anything from Bailey and Bailey be brought straight out to him.
"I take it you will want me to start looking into ways to improve our livestock and such," the same worker who had inquired about the estate sale asked.
"Yes and talk to Mr. Jones about improving the roads and bridges on the back part of the property. Especially since, after the second estate sells, I plan on expanding up here if at all possible."
"Yes, Mr. Hudson."
There were other things Carlisle would like to do, but they were all cosmetic; those could wait. Cosmetic—sighing—he really did not like that word. Too many people cared only about appearances, it seemed. That, or they would tolerate someone's lack of physical attractiveness if they had enough cash. It was one reason he had never married. He had come close once.
She supposedly cared about her family, her mother and siblings. Claimed there was nothing which could not be done for them. However, that had all been a lie. So, he had shut that part of him off and focused on helping those around him—much to the dismay of his parents.
"Son, not all ladies are like her," Mrs. Hudson spoke gently.
"Your mother is correct; plenty of women would be more than willing to keep a good home for you," his father pleaded for his son to look again.
"That female was no lady; she was not even a woman," Carlisle snapped. "I asked around, trust me; no lady would have done the things she did."
Again, he shook his head; why think about that right now? Maybe it was because he was closing in on forty, or maybe it was because of a young ward who spent most of her time on the third floor. He and others had tried to get her down but could not since she had lost her eyesight. And when he passed on, who would take care of her? Walking up to the barn, he set the shovel aside and headed towards his home.
"That is the biggest walking contradiction I have ever seen in my life," another worker walked up to the first, who was now leaning on his own shovel, debating whether or not to take his own lunch break.
"What are you talking about?"
"Our boss. He is one of the kindest, gentlest, hard-working, honest men I know. And yet, in town the other day?" The man folded his arms and pointed towards Mr. Hudson, who had just gone inside. "I listened to him chew out a man so loudly you would have thought the man's ears would have landed in the dirt in a thousand pieces."
"Let me guess, the man was caught red-handed lying and tried stealing from Mr. Hudson?"
"Worse, he was attempting to cheat Widow Hansen. "
"Ouch, that makes it ten times worse. Mr. Hudson does not take kindly to the poor and widows being mistreated. The only people he gets more upset about being mistreated are those physically or mentally impaired."
Mr. Hudson would have only shaken his head and ordered them back to work had he heard their talk. As it was, the estate owner simply went up a set of stairs and down a corridor lit only by a few torches. Knocking on a heavy door, Carlisle only entered when it was opened by a nurse.
"Hi, Rosie."
The young lady of fourteen sat in a chair near the window. Her long, medium brown hair was neatly brushed, with only a small braid at the top of her head. Rosie had lost most of her sight, but the young lady could still make size and shapes of things around her, more like shadows of the objects around her. Often times those same silhouettes—made a crazy wild dance. Today, though, they simply remained still, with only occasional flashes of white and golden light across the windows she sat in front of. "No one will be in the gardens this evening; you could hold onto my arm," Mr. Hudson offered, though he knew the offer was not likely to be accepted.
"No, thank you."
Rosie's reply was too polite, and her tone too sweet, for her uncle to be upset. It hurt to see her this way. Scarlet Fever had robbed her of more than her ability to see, and Carlisle was praying for a way to find joy in life again. Looking out of the window as he stood up, the man wondered if that was even possible.
"I will have your nurse bring your supper up later, though I do so wish you would consider joining us in the dining room." With that, he left the young lady alone.
Rosie politely asked her nurse to leave until supper. The lady nodded her head, knowing the young Miss Rosie was more capable than most believed her to be. Hence, she walked out and left the young girl to herself.
Rosie did not have to use her eyes to tell you the room's heavy drapes were a light brown and matched the bedding. Those things had matched each other since the day her parents had died of consumption, and she had moved in with her uncle. The dark floors had just had their yearly polishing, a fact which had caused her to spend time in another room until just a few hours ago. Ignoring that, she focused on her habit of wandering only the top floor of her uncle's estate until dinner time; which meal she did indeed eat in her room.
