Dorothy

Prologue

The year was 1912. Most were still shaken up about the sinking of the Titanic, which was, ironically, deemed the unsinkable ship. Dorothy Sinclair was, perhaps, one of the most shaken up. Her brother was on the ship. She sat in the tea room of the manor she lived in, clutching the letter that stated the death. Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away with shaky hands. She couldn't show weakness, even when she was alone. She always had to maintain calm and unwavered.

Dorothy was a pretty thing, dark brown curls framing her face. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, lips were pink and plump, and her nose - which was probably her best feature - was well-rounded and not too sharp at the tip. She was known as the pretty one out of her cousins, who lived with her, and was well accustomed to gentlemen asking her to dance before considering the other women. The young woman stood to her feet, clasped her hands behind her back, and walked out into the hallway, where her mother waited.

"So?" The older woman asked her daughter, raising an eyebrow. Dorothy shrugged, taking a deep breath. "So what? Do be more specific, please." She started walking away when her mother took hold of her arm, keeping her in place. "You know what I'm talking about. Dorothy, you have been in that room for the last three hours. Have you heard news of your brother?"

That was the question. Of course she had heard news. Anyone who had been in a room for that long has had most definitely heard news. Slowly, Dorothy shook her head, finally making eye contact with her mother. "No, mother dearest, I haven't heard anything of Timothy. I'm sure that he's fine. Don't worry so much. You'll send shivers up my spine." The older woman smiled slightly, quickly hugging Dorothy until she walked away. Dorothy's own smile faded as soon as she left, and she leaned against the door, sighing loudly. For the first time in forever, she wished that her maid was there, just so that Dorothy could cry and rant to her without the fear of being told on.

Her brother was her backbone, her rock, her teacher. He helped keep her sane and entertained her when she was unbelievably bored. How was she going to survive without him, she didn't know, nor did she want to find out. The least she could do for the time being was keep a smile on her face and act like nothing was wrong.

And that was going to be incredibly difficult.