It would probably only take seconds for the fire to jump over from the stable.
Sidney ran and ran. This time he couldn't be late, this time he had to prevent the catastrophe. Save lives instead of carrying one to the grave!
Although Charlotte knew the trouble she would get into if her parents knew where she was, it still didn't stop her from coming here again and again. Only here could she think undisturbed. And to think she had to. These strange feelings that accompanied her throughout the day had to be analysed. Especially that feeling when he simply turned around, didn't even look at her and marched off. Charlotte felt rejected. She hadn't felt that so painfully since the day her father had forbidden her to accompany him to London. She could have cried. Out of anger and rage and even though she knew it was nonsense, she couldn't stop feeling this way.
This man, this Sidney Parker, hadn't even noticed her when she walked towards him. Even though he was here now, he was used to better than women who approached him without ever having been introduced. She would find out why he was here, but Charlotte knew he was from a good family, from better circles and educated.
The address to write to in case of an illness or death was that of a lord. It was the only address she had remembered from the list of workers. Most of the others had not given one.
For sure, he had been with nobler women so far. He had only looked at her by chance. It didn't mean anything. And despite this knowledge, she was offended that he had not even waited until she could address him. She had so many questions after all!
Her mind rattled incessantly. And when she thought of him, how his eyes had connected with hers, her heart rattled too. It was strange and confusing. She dismissed with a smile the thought that she would end up like one of the heroines in the novels she read. It was always very different with them. Full of drama and dangerous situations from which the lady had to be rescued. The palpitations were usually due to the horror and villains. And only then the bright friendly eyes of the hero.
His eyes. So dark and deep. So sad. Charlotte thought of the beginning of a poem by Robert Burns, which she was not actually allowed to read.
„Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
Lang, has Joy been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice Pity ne'er sounds in my ear."
The rest had slipped her mind, just like the other thought she was about to seize. She only saw his face. Even her family had noticed that she was particularly quiet today, that she was lost in thoughts that she could no longer remember a moment later. Charlotte thought she had actually shed this restlessness over the months. This restlessness to get away from here, but now it had flared up again, even if it was different. Oh, she didn't know exactly what she was thinking either. She just could no longer stand it in the house.
The smell of hay, leather and horses calmed her. This was where she had also holed up when she was younger, when she was full of sorrow and inexplicable longing. Here she had dreamed of being on an adventure with her horse. Not trapped in a village where nothing ever happened. Apart from the fact that these horses here were primarily workhorses that pulled the hay carts and she couldn't call one of them her own.
It was then that she had received her first big scolding from her father for going into the stable with an open candle. While she had to stay in the house for the next two weeks to learn from her mistakes, she had read everything she could find and studied the heroes of the stories carefully. Especially how they could read in a stable without causing a disaster. Or on the roof of a stable, where she now sat and looked at the upcoming stars.
The slamming of the door let Charlotte freeze. She immediately turned off the candle in the small lantern and listened into the darkness. Her heart beat up to her throat, which felt as if she had wrapped one of the scarves around it too tightly. She had sat here in the dark often enough, listening to the sounds of the night, which were often frighteningly loud. But this time she sensed that it was not just a sound that faded into silence. She had also read enough books to know that dangers lurked everywhere. Especially for women who roamed alone in the dark.
into the shadows
Start from the beginning
