The Perplex Parcel Pursuit Project (darkangel76 p Lotherio)

Aka - Steam Punk Pirates in the Victorian Age ....

Characters:

Name: Charlotte Granville (darkangel76)
Age: 22
Gender: female
Race: human

Appearance/Common Attire: Standing at approximately 5'2", she is of slim build with pale skin, long dark hair and pale blue eyes. She tends to wear long-skirted dresses, with the front section often times shorter than the back (much to the chagrin of her family since they find it improper, but she does it as a passive-aggressive form of rebellion) thus showing off her ankles to those who happen to glance her way. She is fond of corsets and corset-style tops and, as a result, has several that she wears. More often than not, she lets her chest be exposed (again to the chagrin of her family), the corset then giving her smaller bust a desirable-looking lift. Her family, being one of wealth, is a paranoid lot. They insist that she wear a weapons garter on her upper thighs and hidden beneath the skirts and petticoats she wears on a daily basis. In the holsters, she carries a set of knives, though she isn't very skilled at wielding them. However it makes her family feel better that she has them on her person (though they'd prefer she carry a gun rather than the knives, but she refuses since she's even less skilled with those than she is the knives).

Brief Background: She is the only daughter of William and Lilly Granville. Coming from a family of wealth (her father runs and manages a fleet of dirigibles that transports packages and other such mailings around the world), she has been sheltered from the harsher realities of the world. However, her parents also being realists, feel it necessary that a girl such as herself be as prepared as she can be thus being armed and having a personal escort to watch over her any time she ventures outside the safety of her home. Her escort is James and, unless she finds a way to 'ditch' him, is typically not too far away from wherever she decides to go. She doesn't like the fact that she has an escort and she often times feels like he 'watches' her and not in the fashion in which an escort should be watching over his charge.

She's an accomplished pianist and rather skilled in drawing with pencils. Being from a family of wealth, her family saw to it that she was trained in such fineries as music and art.

Personality: She's overly compassionate and a bit naive about the ways of the world. Being sheltered, she longs to truly see the world as it is, however, she isn't very realistic in what the world entails. She's unfortunately romanticized much of everything and as such will have her eyes opened quite wide when she finally is able to seize the opportunity to see the world outside of being escorted and sheltered by her parents left and right.

She's very impulsive and quick to speak. This can lead to problems, but it can also be very useful depending on the situation. She tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve and isn't afraid to state her opinions on things.

Escort: James (he only goes by his first name, his last name is unknown). He is a quiet fellow, standing at approximately 6'5", muscular and with nearly black hair and dark eyes to match. He has been hired to be Charlotte's protector by her somewhat paranoid parents and, from afar, the man pines for his charge and will do his utmost to fulfill the obligations set before him by the girl's family.

Family: She is an only child. Her parents are William and Lilly Granville. They are a fairly well off family, her father running and managing a fleet of dirigibles that transport various packaged items and the like to people and destinations around the world.

Initial Goal: She wants her parents to release her from their hold over her life. More than anything, she wants to discover who she is as a person, as a woman. She wants to make her own choices and deal with whatever consequences those decisions bring upon her. In living her life away from her parents' (as well as James') watchful eyes, she'd like to pursue her talents in music. Her wish to one day perform in the Main Concert Hall in the heart of the city for the upper crust of society. She'd also like to find genuine love and from someone who not just understands her but also wants her for who she is, not the family she comes from.

Name: Mathieu De La Motte aka Gentleman Luke aka Lucky Luke (Lotherio)
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance: Despite his background, Mathieu prefers the look of the sophisticated gentleman. Adorning the woolen, wavy blonde hair atop his head was commonly found a top hat with a few inches to spare, graced with a thin grey sash. His topcoat had tails to the backs of his knees, as he liked to believe the cut of the thread allowed him greater flexibility than the more stiffer jackets some men tended to wear. Deep breasted vest over a woolen shirt comfortably held a chain leading to presumably a pocket watch. Thin striped trousers were well cut down his legs, flaring over the ankle high riding boots he tended to favor for the out and about. His ensemble was complete with a gentleman’s can. But therein lay his deception, there was no cane weapon hidden there – no blade or single barrel ballistic. Rather a lady finger was at the end of the chain at his fest, hidden within the fold of what looked like an overtly large pocket watch and spring loaded, winding the watch armed the pin and pressing the latch to ‘open’ the face fired whatever was loaded at his dearest victim. It was said when he so felt inclined to go about that gruesome business he would always tuck a kings face card into the grey sash of his top hat while changing out the knob of his cane, usually a golden rose, with that of a large ivory gambling die (singular for dice die). He was a gentleman after all, such that those alone where warning enough for those who knew him. Thin mustache and soul patch are well groomed upon his face, under hazel eyes.

Brief Background: Mathieu De La Motte was nothing more than a rakish scoundrel who had won a small dirigible gambling over cards. Which, he in turn, used to raid other small dirigibles. Born Mathieu, he assumed the name Luke when taking to the skies. Before this, he was raised the son of a cooper but cared little for the art of barrel making such that it was his want to steal away from his father’s business to see the men in from sailing the skies when naval and pirate crews alike came to town. It was here he learned to gamble under the tutelage of Two Finger Pete, on account of the two metal fingers he had – one side to be a firearm, the other a pairing knife, when he opened them up. Others insist that Pete also used the fingers to count cards but this is, as of yet, unproven and there are no traces of Pete that he has gone into hiding or has died a natural death of open heart wound following a certain game of poker – his two metal fingers may have lead to this demise. Sometimes it is known that Lucky Luke sails the winds in the company of the lady pirates Anne and Isabelle, such the sweat talker that he is, but this could well be rumor alone. He has killed few in his tasks and generally preys on the weaker ships, those unarmed or unable to defend themselves that he need not violence. Rather, his true lot is just to better himself through cheating, lying, stealing and, now, pirating. He has recently had run ins with the Packard family, whom delivers parcels the world over, offering their own packing service. Through this union, he has taken a job on the rival Granville family which Luke tends to make good on to increase he renown, or at least, receive a good stipend for his services rendered.

Personality: Why make threats when a well place lie could achieve the same ends, at less risk of life no doubt. His face is more showmanship than truth. He would have the world believe he is a pirate of the worst sort but only that such a reputation makes achieving his personal goals that much more the easier. The real pirates known this about him. Truly his first and foremost concern is survival of the self. He is warm to the ladies, thinking himself full of more prowess in this domain than he has right to claim perhaps. He like the duality of being Mathieu and Luke, Mathieu when he an just be normal and Luke when dastardly intentions are warranted. Talkative would be an understatement, he would certainly rather talk himself out of any situation rather than be in the real situation. Known as a dealmaker, he will offer anything he thinks someone would want, whether or not he really has what they’re asking for. Even though he tends to speak in deceptions, he is still well versed enough that his bolsters have that ring of knowledgeable truth to him that has saved his life more than once.

Family: He is estranged of his parents and sometimes prefers to give those the lie he is an Orphan. His father still is a cooper and his mother still tends the home. One sister, she is said to have had an advantageous marriage to a merchant’s son and has gone on to ‘see the world’ with him. A brother has joined the navy and been granted a pension following the loss of his leg on a naval expedition against pirates. Mathieu is in contact with his brother from time to time only that he me joke about how ignorant the navy is that they cannot catch a pirate as wiley as him even under their own noses.

Initial Goal: Mathieu’s Initial Goal is the completion of the mission assigned him by the Packard family, lest he fail and other such pirates come to claim any rewards for returning him. This aside, his true personal aim is the accumulation of wealth that he may truly live better than his family did. He just doesn’t know when to say when though as concern’s wealth, but he has yet to live so well as his father. His appearance is belying his reality, the ship won (or cheated) in a game of cards, his clothes only one of a few outfits that he cares for meticulously. A good break may mend his lying and cheating ways, but he may not be so apt to see a good, honest offer through his own self delusions and lies.

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That said, onto our two starting nations. For real world references, I’d compare Granville to France (nice architecture if a little on the heavy side) and Packard to Britain (more glass building) with the Independent coming in closer to Slavic. Granville’s Nation probably uses a cleaner fuel and has bigger power plants, where they can provide power to more of their cities with a few of these ‘plants, where as the Independent nation probably employs more smaller scale steam generators and a good number of the houses and buildings are not powered by steam but rather gas lit even. To the independents, steam generators are a luxury more than anything else, certainly its in the homes of the wealthy, but everyone is in the dark and they burn more coal, making it even darker as for atmosphere (Sweeney Todd – actual Victorian Britain compared to ideal Victorian Britain represented by Granville’s nation).

Some quick fluff. Jaro is the nation where the Granville’s live and operate, the capital city is Viznay. It is a port city on the western coast of whatever continent this takes place. Shipyards dominate the harbor while the wealthy homes are on the ring of hills that line the city proper. There is a haze of industry that settles over the city by night, but the evening winds blow it all out to sea and each morning it dawns bright and clear. Capire is the nation home of the Packards, its capital Tratsia is on the river Portare, which leads to the southern sea, a smaller ocean, only separated from the western coast of the continent by the stretch of land known as Pontos, held by the semi-island nation of Cordal, whose capital rests on a larger island off the peninsula Pontos, but there is a small grouping is islands further that they belongs to this nation as well. The focal city where Mathieu will eventually be taking Charlotte is Porto Seguro, on an island chain closer to those islands of Jaro, between nations figuratively and literally.

Just some names, they can be interchanged as needed. The continent has railways connecting the major cities and some smaller ones as well, the larger cities may have their own transit (either electrical in the case of Jaro and Capire, powered by coal like steam generator plants, or true steam as is the case with Cordal’s cities). Horses are still common, but some steam powered vehicles are not unknown in the larger cities.

Jaro is more capable of seaworthiness, having large steam powered fleets where Capire is moving into the realm of armored steam power vehicles. Capire has similar vehicles, but more traditional than steam powered. Each is expanding into the realms of airships, but this is new, the dirigible being the most common airship, but Capire may have real airships (true hulls, non collapsible structures, for balloons, not just inflatable like most balloons).

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These first posts are thematic and character background, reserved for editing but directly from PMs just to have all this information in one place ... 1st pose to follow...

First Pose:

The ball floated through the clouds like a jelly fish on the serene seas far below. Anyone observing from a distance would assume it went where the winds took it, but that was a trick of the eye. The basket underneath was the size of a small boat, suitable for 10 personas comfortable and 20 if packed to capacity. If that where indeed the case, at capacity, it was probably also certain that several people would risk burns from the center crank engine that came up through the hull, above which was the long rounded handle that extended to the rudder far behind the dirigible.

Leaning on the steerage lazily, Luke withdrew the parchment written in the finest hand, reading again the commitment by his patron – William Packard of the Packard family, renowned parcel delivery service, a family empire in the making, in service of the Capire Impire, one of the leading nations of the world. It expressed that Luke was to abduct one Charlotte Granville, of the Granville family out of Viznay, a similar messenger service and mainline competitor for deliveries around the world. She was to be abducted, he was to be rewarded. The sum amount totaling to a true balloon, he could have a larger crew for those deeds he so desired. Not simply companions from time to time that thought it exquisite to plunder and pillage the skies, but to become true pirates in every sense of the world; it was pure debauchedness.

With a description of the target that could not be mistaken, from blue eyes down to her want to show off her exquisite ankles, Luke, sometimes known as Mathieu, was sure of his target. Several hours outside the city of Viznay itself, he was approaching out of the north basin beyond the city, to mask his route. He’d flown in from the south and the island nation of Cordal, and that was where he would take her to again meet with agents of the Packard family when his business was done. With a whistle given to the winds, he lowered a pinion of truce that marked him as a free merchant, least they open cannons upon his small vessel. Small it was, but sleek, faster than it appeared, a price he won gambling and one he intended not to loose. With a pat of his coin purse, knowing he could take anchor and have space to store his ship, he sailed on to the city.

Before his arrival, he removed the gambling marker from his top hat and changed the knob of his cane, least he be recognized for the scoundrel he was. To match, he raised a monocle to his eye, and combined out the fine mustache and soul patch that, as Luke, he would grease with pomade in a dastardly manner, curling the ends up to suit his flights of fancy. Then he would learn more of the city, find the manse of the Granville’s and begin his observance of Charlotte once she was identified. His intention to learn her routines and then speak with her more, for he was ever a gentleman. No telling what he might learn this way, besides, if she was a charmer, he wanted to see if he could charm her. If not, then boring old abduction routine. He’d double checked his fax breast pocket watch that concealed the lady finger, loaded and ready to fire before leaving the port to begin his vigil.

Viznay. It was a bustling city, one riddled with merchants of various class and status. Men donning their suave smiles looking to charm and sway while women blushed and gasped, showing off their assets… and anything that sparkled. And then there were the poor pitiful folk living in the slums located closer to the water. It was colorful, romantic, exciting, filled with adventures just waiting to be had.

Or so Charlotte had so very often imagined.

Charlotte Granville walked along the cobbled walkway, her pale eyes scouring the sights just longing to be beheld by someone such as herself. Someone with passion for fun and laughter. Someone eager to touch and gawk at everything passing her by. Desperately yearning to run free and take in the smell of the air in all its hazy saltiness. Smiling, she let a delicate hand find the curled strands of her dark hair so that she could flick it over a shoulder. It was a warm day, but not overly so. And the breeze wafting in from the waters made the air more than pleasant and comfortable.

As Charlotte meandered down the street through the hustle and bustle of the various merchants, a sweet melodic sound began to resonate in her ears. She knew she had to find its source, the people responsible for the carefree music that was luring her closer and closer to the harbor. It was beckoning, haunting, speaking of the life she could be living if…

“Ahem,” came a gruff grumble from behind.

Charlotte heaved a heavy sigh, her reverie completely interrupted. James, her escort, was close on her tail. Forever watching. He was always watching. It made her so frustrated that her parents, William and Lilly Granville, owners of the finest packing and delivery service in all of Jaro, one comprised of a fleet of dirigibles unlike any other in the entire nation, felt the need for her to have such a brute of a man bringing her about town when she was a grown woman. It was insulting! She was capable of handling herself, making her own decisions. She was two and twenty after all!

Glancing over her shoulder, Charlotte gave James a coy smile. She was certain she saw the man’s eyes shift a bit with unease and it made her feel a tiny bit giddy inside. She noticed the way he looked at her and it wasn’t always in the way a person of his position was to look at their charge. There was more to it, she was certain of it. And, often times, she tried to use it to her advantage. Like today.

Charlotte faced forward once again, a broad grin gracing her reddened lips. James would easily distract today. She knew it, could feel it. Or, well, she hoped it. She’d taken care to wear one of her more whispered about gowns. One her mother hated, which made it especially loved by her. It showed off her ankles, even a good portion of her calves. And then there was the bodice. Oh yes, she’d worn her most flattering of corsets, one that pushed and squished leaving much to the imagination. It was the perfect distraction and she knew it. The fact that her parents found it distasteful made it all the more sweeter a wear.

“Yes, James. I’m heading into the square,” Charlotte spoke. She rolled her eyes slightly as she schemed her getaway, her fingers absently playing with the pendant about her slender neck.

The music became louder and louder. Soon Charlotte could easily tell just what sorts of instruments were adding presence and laughter to the air. When she finally came to a halt, it was about a half a block east of what appeared to be small troupe of musicians. A cantina, a violin, a piper. Again, she couldn’t help but smile. The music was lively, the tempo quickening. It didn’t take long for a crowd to gather, people singing, laughing and dancing. As more and more people appeared, she took it upon herself to duck into the crowd.

“Charlotte!” came James voice, harsh and loud. More than grating.

“I’ll be over here… maybe…” Charlotte whispered to herself, far too quiet for James to hear. Then that was the idea. She’d lost him; he couldn’t find her. “Excellent!” she giggled softly.

At that, Charlotte quickly made her way, almost running, toward what had to be the harbor. Glancing backward she could still see the crowd milling and gathering. It would be some time before James found her and that was enough. For now. Happy with herself, she finally began to slow her pace. Given her shoes, it was a must as heels hurt when you ran in them. As she slowed to a casual walk, she held her head high and breathed in the scent of the ocean. It was brilliant, wonderful. Exhilarating.

Grinning and humming, Charlotte caught sight of what appeared to be a small tea shoppe. Gripping her purse and smoothing her skirts, she dared herself to enter. Setting her jaw she walked up to the door and gently gave it a push.

He always felt like a man about town when he could stroll down a street, letting his cane strike upon the surface and tip his hat to the other gentlemen. Mathieu even enjoyed the small talk, the hellos, good day sirs, lovely weather we’re having, the usual passing gestures. Two fingers to his hat, a slight rise as if in some secret salute. Heaven forbid these men ever realize his father was a cooper and that was his destiny until he seized his own future. In the back of his mind, he fantasized about taking their valuables, pocket watches, spectacles, rings and gold alike, all gentleman like even, all the while smiling to their companions knowingly, giving a kiss upon their gloved hands and retiring the richer for it. But he was just Mathieu now, out for a stroll.

At one point, he found a shop selling canes and other finely crafted items of wood any gentleman would want. Slowly he was working his way up from the harbor, which was the easiest route for him to follow form the Port de Air, oddly enough. Cane tucked up under his arm, he bent over one moment to study the exquisite detail on a pocket watch behind the large pane of glass, reading in fanciful yellow letters “Williams Shoppe O’ Knick-Knacks and Bric-a-Brac” underscored, “Fitting the Finest Fellows Full of Every Fellows Fancies”, they were outlined in red, the tiniest open space between the edge of the yellow and the outline, surely the finest window painter’s handiwork.

As he came up, the sun caught in the people behind him and, if he wasn’t mistaken, that was Miss Charlotte Granville strolling down to the harbor behind him. Caught off his guards, the watch in the window forgotten, he turned to watch her winding her way through the crowds. There was a jaw dropping moment of the proverbial sort as he noted the exposed calf and the corset. For being of such upbringing, she was a treat to the eyes and Mathieu had to proverbially lift his jaw back into place, mentally reminding himself he didn’t fly all this way to gawk but rather to meet this young woman and go about his business for the Packard family.

The good news for him perhaps was that he wasn’t her escort and she didn’t know he was tailing her. This allowed him to stroll amiably behind and watch her as she meandered further towards the harbor. Curiosity caught upon his face when she lifted her head ever so gently to catch good winds from the ocean below. Himself being of the sort that never really noticed the freedom or the salt on the air, but rather the seaweed and the fish from the fish markets. He could never be that lucky, even with his run of luck, to enjoy the scent of the sea as she had done in the briefest of gestures. Mathieu even thought to himself if he were a poet, he could write verse and sonnets on end over that simple lifting of her head, the sun on her face and the pleasure of freedom.

Once again, proverbial lifting of the jaw, this wasn’t his chore, he had true business to attend and, if he wasn’t mistaken that opportunity was slipping away from him. She smoothed her skirts and advanced upon a tea shop. Thick beams of wood highlighted its surface, with thin lines where the grain separated, assaulted by years of sea wind on the breeze in this part of town. Even as her hand outstretched and the chime of door bells rang clear from just over the threshold there, his hand came out too.

“Pardon me good Lady,” came his call, “My manners are fleeting.” Being in that he was slow to hold the door for her only, a common courtesy. Certainly more for him to give transition into conversation, but something easily any passing gentleman should have done, at least in another part of town perhaps. One might note that inside, the equivalent of a tea samovar was the highlight along one wall, the latest in hot tea preparedness, small whistles and occasional flashes of steam demonstrated this technological marvel was constantly brewing some fresh tea.

Charlotte let out a tiny gasp as the gentleman behind her suddenly took hold of the door and held it for her. Of course, her gasp was all for show. It was typical for women to give men such overly exaggerated responses. It tended to make them feel more honorable about their actions, that perhaps they are more mannerly than most. And, it never hurt to see if you could catch anyone’s eye. Being of eligible age, it was a good first test.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Charlotte answered. Luckily for her, she blushed easily. The redness made its way from her cheeks down along her neck to suddenly halt at the swell of her breasts peeking from the tightly bound corset she wore. Or did it? No matter, the man would be left guessing. “So many have become forgetful of themselves over the past generation. It’s warming to see that there are those who know how to treat a lady.”

Charlotte gave the man a smile as she ventured further into the tea shoppe. Such wonders there were to behold! Gadgets and gizmos, shiny kettles and cups. And the teas! Her eyes went wide with wonder and awe as she stared at the curiosities buzzing and beeping in front of her eyes. Smiling, she took a deep breath, drinking in the heavenly aromas of the fragrant teas that were on display. So many, she hadn’t known there were so many kinds! All her life, it had been English Breakfast in the morning, Green in the afternoon and then, before bedtime, a steaming hot cup of Chamomile. So very routine. So very… ordinary.

Taking in everything inside the shoppe, Charlotte held tightly to her purse. She was itching to purchase something. But what? As she wandered throughout the aisles, taking care to peer at every shelf and display, she finally decided on her item. It was one of the more exotic teas.

“Passion fruit?” Charlotte whispered softly to herself, letting the words roll off her tongue. She quirked a brow at the name and new it was perfect. Her parents would hate it and she would drink it every day until none was left to consume.

Her blue eyes sparkling, she picked up the box of passion fruit tea. As she walked over to the shoppe’s caretaker, she gently fondled the pendant dangling just above her breasts. The shiny metal felt cool against her fingertips and the texture was more than pleasing. When she finally reached the counter, she placed the tea box down and carefully opened her purse. She noticed the gentleman still wandering about the shoppe, his eyes glancing over at her every so often. It made her smile inwardly that she’d seemed to have captured his attentions. It wasn’t often she’d gotten away from James and his ever persistent watch. It was nice to be noticed. Admired. Assuming that’s what this man was doing anyway.

Regardless, Charlotte knew she’d never see this man again. So, why not pretend he was a secret admirer. A man pining from afar at the woman he could never have. Ah, such dreams, such fancy. A little indulgence in fairytales never hurt. Did it?

Looking over at the man, Charlotte smiled, flicking a dark curl over her shoulder. “Kind sir, have you ever tried passion fruit? Does it taste as exquisite as its name would have me believe?” She looked at him with a slightly quizzical expression, though it was clearly laced with a playfulness that showed she was more than curious as to how he would answer her. “Or,” she suddenly added, her fingers playing with the pendant once more. “Is it just a name meant to tease and entice? Please, kind sir, I wish to learn something new today.”

“Do tell,” he quipped holding the door and following her in, “A man would be a fool to leave his manners at the door in your company.” Mathieu could afford a grin then, as his eyes did indeed wonder curiously if the blush stopped there at the top. In fact, his eyes graciously traveled that distance to where he wondered, as the corset was there between them – her and he, that is. He perused then, looking more at the whistles and whatnots, truly having no clue or business in the company of tea. Though, given to certain vantages and angles, he could keep his eyes on her.

In his mind he certainly was studying but there was nothing wrong as well with admiring. In fact, he noticed she had caught his eye from time to time, his eye admiring before he realized she had favored him a glance. This kept him on his toes for certain, usually it took a little more forwardness on his part but this girl was an intrigue to him. If he hadn’t known better, he would think she the aggressor in this match of wits. Not that there was any match of wits to anyone else occurring, but to Mathieu, there was some secret tally being kept somewhere and when it came down to the annals, he should be on top, that much he was certain.

It mattered not that in on such instance he was looking at a product upside down, it was all for show really. Then there was something about passion fruit, decidedly tasty passion fruit. No, that was now, she was looking at him and the topic was passion fruit. Idle whiles fleeting, he stopped thinking about who was on top and let the words fall back upon him that she had said with a gentlemanly clearing of his throat.

“I have tried a good many passion fruit,” he responded, orderly, “They are all warm, tender in the center and, quite frankly, moist to the palette. I dare say,” he offered crossing as if to look at the selection she was making, “The passion fruit delights on any man’s tongue.” Perching a brow, that was wisdom, secretly he liked this – if he was a poet he would write it all down. Then he looked from whatever the keeper was going about in getting this passion fruit, to gaze at Charlotte. One could deduce from his eyes he may still have been deducing the extent of her blush from before. But his gaze rose to hers and he swam in her eyes a moment. “If the passion fruit did not tease or entice, there would be no real pleasure in its flavor. Like many .. drinks, it could be assumed an acquired taste by many and, once so acquired, it is a craving that is hard to satiate oft times. Perhaps it would be best I should demonstrate,” was that the corner of his mouth waxing wicked?

Then of course he turned his shoulder slightly enough to reveal the samovar, suggesting some be brewed freshly, his own coin wallet being reached for that the owner accept his payment for the fresh tea while the lady reserved her coin for any leaves she might wish to take home.

Charlotte turned to look at her purse as the man suddenly began to address her questions. Her lips quirked upward in triumph that she’d managed to pique his attention enough that he felt inclined to even answer them. As he spoke, however, she suddenly found her mouth going dry, her cheeks burning with an intense heat that made her wish she could hide for the moment. Made her wish that she hadn’t attempted to ‘play’. Oh what had she started? What had she done?

Swallowing, Charlotte suddenly forgot what it was she was doing. Her mind was swirling, spinning out of control, not a single coherent thought was there to be made. She was a blank. Just then, she felt a peculiar rush of adrenaline wash over her, causing her heart to beat both fast and hard. Licking at her lips, she closed her purse and slowly turned to look at this silver-tongued man, unsure of what she expected to find once their gazes locked.

The moment Charlotte found this man’s eyes, she watched him gesture toward the shiny kettle. Immediately, a rush of relief consumed her and a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding was instantly allowed its release. As she exhaled softly, though the sounds more than apparent on her lips as she let it go, she gave the man another coy smile. Victory was still hers. This man hadn’t realized her subtle flirtations after all. All her desires to run away flitted away with the cool ocean breezes that danced about the room given their proximity to the salty waters.

Charlotte’s blush slowly faded as she gave the man a deep curtsy. “I thank you, kind sir. I would very much love the opportunity to receive such a demonstration from you.” She looked up to him then though she deliberately remained lowered, her eyes glittering as she watched for his reactions. “My name is Charlotte, kind sir. Charlotte Granville.” Slowly, she raised herself back up again. “May I have the pleasure of your name, kind sir? The man, gentlemanly enough to teach and introduce me to the wonders of passion fruit?”

Turning toward the caretaker, Charlotte handed the older man a few coins. With dainty precision, she then picked up her box of tea and stashed it away in her purse for later. She knew she’d enjoy this tea. And she knew she’d enjoy it all the more with this temporary tutor she’d just acquired. Once done with the transaction, she watched the caretaker set up the infuser so that some fresh passion fruit tea could be brewed for them both. The two battling wits in his shoppe. As she looked over at the man once more, she gave him another smile. One letting him know that she was waiting for a name, a proper introduction. After all, they would be sharing tea in a few moments. Besides, as his student, she needed to know how to address her teacher.

The look in Mathieu’s eyes were not unlike a conductor before an orchestra, even if that orchestra only consisted of the body of one woman. There were so many delicate instruments that such a symphony would resound the world over should it be played properly. His eyes gleamed largo when he started, the rise of the blush in her cheeks and they twinkled moderato, the creases of what would many years from now be his crows feet. The swallow following the blush, allegretto, his own mouth perspiring as he talked and she responded. The exhalation of her breath that could have been a gasp of delight, Allegro. Her not returning with such direct flirtations, the blush fading and the gleam in his eyes faltering as if he had dropped his jaw, burletta coda.

Strike one point for the woman, he was loosing, he lost her interest. It wasn’t about studying her anymore, learning about her, it was about bringing back out that play of wits he thought they had engaged. No, thought faltering, she still wants to .. learn. His smile rose to his left check, his eyes once again warming as he gave his own bow, informal in the comfortable tea shoppe. “Mathieu De La Motte,” he offered, coming up to look at her and see that smile she favored for him while the care taker set to brewing the tea for them.

Certainly that smile was to let him know she was still intrigued by his endeavors of the passion fruit. It was delicately coy of her to use the allusion to begin with, but he knew this game well. He would bet his right arm on it, and in honesty, one might hope he didn’t despite the wondrous technologies of prosthetics in the modern ear – why he might even afford such a hand that could be cranked open and closed much like a real hand, with all manner of intrigue tucked with the folds of that metal.

“I assure you Miss Granville, the pleasure is all mine,” and he was certain to express Miss when addressing her, suggesting he need not know whether she were married or not, for the games of the passion fruit did not recognize such an institution. “Why, I find myself rather privileged I must confess, to accompany such a charming woman as yourself as she discovers the wonders of the passion fruit for her first time.” He then offered a hand to her, extended and palm up that they may stand and wait closer together. Much like her exposed ankles and calves where risqué, that his hand was exposed and not gloved could have been taken in the same stride. Again, no one would know he did not where gloves, but that was his to keep. “It requires a gentle hand, that both parties are comfortably agreeable to such an exploration.”

Charlotte smiled, her cheeks rosy now from their ‘play’, not from nerves or embarrassment. Her recent win with this man boosted her confidence just now, her guard slowly but surely falling away. She wondered if he’d realized that she’d already won. No matter, she’d never see him again after this interaction anyway. Why not continue things further, see how many more rounds she could win before James came to take her away.

And he would. He always did.

“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. De La Motte,” Charlotte began. “It isn’t often that such a teacher is presented so readily to a lady.”

Casually walking a bit closer to the kettle as it brewed the tea, Charlotte gave Mathieu what appeared to be a knowing look. She allowed herself to breathe in the steamy scent of the passion fruit tea, her eyes fluttering closed as she did so. Letting out a tiny sigh of approval, she opened her eyes and looked at her tutor once more.

“And, thus far, I’m finding myself to be very agreeable to your teachings, Mr. De La Motte. No doubt you’ve done this before and have been rather successful?”

It was more of a statement than a question. But, Charlotte didn’t want Mathieu to think she was overstepping her bounds as a woman. After all, he clearly was the more knowledgeable. But, he didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Not ever.

Strolling a bit, wanting to show herself off just a little, Charlotte continued the game. “I wonder how successful you’d be teaching me, Mr. De La Motte. Do you have what it takes to truly teach one such as me? One who knows nothing of such things?” She paused just then, positioning herself just right so that he could get a good glimpse of her ankles and other such assets. “That is to say, Mr. De La Motte… are you thorough? Would you utilize every method in your arsenal to see to it that I’m properly taught?”

Charlotte had to refrain from biting down on her lip just then. She wondered if she’d gone too far in her ‘play’. Had she revealed too much about herself? Had she been too bold? Holding her head up high and not letting her nerves get the better of her, she still felt a blush rush down along her body – neck, chest, breasts. Regardless, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she held Mathieu’s gaze, knowing that in the end it made no difference. In a short while, she’d be escorted away and she’d never truly know what it would be like to be tutored by such a man as Mathieu De La Motte.

Just then, the kettle brewing the passion fruit tea began to whistle. Their tea was ready. Though, as it made its signaling noise, Charlotte refused to look away. No. She needed to hear Mathieu’s answer first. She needed to know before she allowed her mouth to taste the tea. A tea she knew she’d come to crave the moment she let the taste dance upon her tongue.

The smile on his face shifted as he watched her, running from left cheek to his right and as Mathieu listened further, a brow perched exquisitely atop his head. It feigned mild amusement bordering on shock, but the playful grin below confirmed it a feint indeed, for he wasn’t shocked, not truly, not near as much as amused indeed as she affirmed again, that the play of wits was unfolding once more under the sweet smell of passion fruit. Then the kettle blew before he could answer but her gaze stayed him that he did not falter in returning the look to her.

“Oh, Miss Granville,” he said, as the care taker, not caring about wits or passion fruits but coin in his purse, rolled his eyes and decided to settle himself on pouring two general helpings of actual passion fruit, and not the metaphorical sort “I assure, you have fallen into the right lap as for as teachers.” Bowing his head ever so gently in difference to her wisdom and keen observation, he allowed his eyes to trail her body, slowly towards those exposed ankles and delighting upon every curve of her form. “Most teachers you see only offer introductions to the passion fruit. They give only the tools necessary to discover the first taste of the fruit but do not teach how to fully enjoy. Their time to valuable between many students.” His eyes wandered at that point between corset, lowering over her hips, and then down to the ankles.

“Myself however, an avid connoisseur of passion fruit, would be rather thorough given the appropriate time to fully divulge the wonders of the fruit to but a single student … as much time as was required and much more I assure you.” His eyes began their journey back up her body, “See, once the student first learns the pleasure of the fruit, they too open up to begin to reveal the extent of their expression of that enjoyment. This allows the teacher to truly taste the hunger for knowledge in the student. Much as any fine instrument, it is only when a student reaches their full potential of expression and release of their desire for passion fruit that the teacher may exalt in all their glory along side them.”

Taking a step, it was actually closer to the woman than to the drinks which were ready for tasting. “Teaching is like consuming the fruit. As with the fruit, one drink is never enough to fully appreciate the leaf. It takes many drinks, day after day, hour after hour, to fully explore the rich body of the drink, to learn its intricacies. One cannot be too fast in this, one must take time, to savor and enjoy. The average drinker, like most teachers, would take the whole cup and say, ‘this is good’, where the connoisseur would enjoy each sip, its aroma, the flavor when it touches the palette, the taste that lingers in the mouth after savoring the fruit. With each subsequent tasting, their enjoyment of the fruit only grows. With the right fruit, there is lament if it is ever wholly consumed”

Smiling again, “I assure – I am that teacher.”

Somewhere his hands folded behind his back, the ball of his cane above his hands, the point sticking out to the side. Yes, this was an enticing game indeed, it was good the care taker was minding his own shoppe, for surely any outside distraction would demure the intentions in this fortuitous banter.

Charlotte felt a strange heat wash over her entire body as Mathieu began his first lecture. It was a true indication of just how fortunate she was to have found such a profound tutor on subjects such as this one. Indeed he was a master and no doubt she’d never learn better elsewhere. Just then, her breath caught in her throat and she found herself wondering how long it could possibly last. This most informative session on passion fruit. Could he really teach her such things, guide her? Would he? As she stood there, her gaze refusing to falter, though the heat rising from within making it clear that his words were indeed having an affect, she found herself believing that he could.

“Well, Mr. De La Motte,” Charlotte began, returning Mathieu’s smile with her own. “This pleases me most greatly.”

The distance had closed some between the two, Charlotte noticing the subtle shift in Mathieu’s stance. Her own far from protested the close proximity they were suddenly sharing, just like they’d soon be sharing the tea. Licking her lips just then, she imagined for the briefest of moments what it would truly be like to be tutored by such a man. Surely, his lectures would require a hands-on approach, leaving nothing untried or untested. Suddenly, the caretaker handed them each a small cup filled with the tea.

Charlotte smiled, her brief reverie interrupted as she allowed her delicate fingers to grasp the handle of the tiny cup. She gave the older man a nod as she took it and brought the brim slowly to her lips. “To our first session, Mr. De La Motte,” she replied and took a tiny sip, her pale eyes locked onto Mathieu’s.

The flavor of the tea was most delectable and divine. Truly a rapturous blend of exotic samplings never to be found in a nation such as Jaro. As she let the taste take over her mouth, she found herself anxiously awaiting Mathieu’s reactions. Obviously, he’d tasted the tea before, knew of the complexity of its flavor, the true gentle care needed to savor and relish how it played upon the taste buds. Oh, how she desired to know what he did. Only then could she appreciate such things in the way they were meant to be appreciated. Only then would the experience be one of immense pleasure, one of value laced with complete understanding.

“And may we have several more,” Charlotte suddenly added. “Would you like more, Mr. De La Motte or are you merely satisfied with this single session?”

Charlotte’s words were deliberate. She was baiting Mathieu. Baiting and testing. With more eagerness than she held only moments before, she looked into his eyes hoping to see some semblance of reaction. His next words would seal her thoughts on him forever. Oh how she found herself holding onto a foolish and silly hope. One that would end up dashed regardless of anything this man had to say. As she waited, suddenly holding a breath as she did so, her free hand began to absently play with the pendant dangling just above the swell of breasts.

Mathieu found his train of thought lost the moment her tongue ever so briefly dabbled at her lips and then allowed her fingers to every so delicately wrap around the handle of the cup, that, where he any lesser man, he too may have sighed more heavely when her lips found the rim and let the liquid spill into her mouth. Or, more appropriately, where he any other man, he might not have let his mind wander so far. But, he was Mathieu De La Motte after all, and lurking there was Gentleman Luke.

Of course than he realized it was his turn and the liquid in the cup was far from the passion fruit he had elucidated upon. So, to test the waters, he certainly could lift it to his nose, just before his lips, to smell what this tea was all about and when his nose turned slightly he could roll his eyes up as if just the scent were that much to him that he needed no more. Then he could breath deeply as if he could not have enough of the scent even though breathing thusly allowed him to intake more fresh air the same. As he lifted it, eyes closed, knowing she watched, he could waft it about on his tongue as his throat refused to swallow immediately, letting out a moan as if pleasurable but the same clearing the air from his palette to dim the flavor. Slowly he managed to ease it down his throat, inhaling sharply that could be taken for sudden exhilaration and expel slowly again as if lingering on that flavor when really trying to remove the taste from his mouth.

Slowly he let his eyes open and spread a wondrous smile upon his face. “I dare say, this is the most exquisite passion fruit I have beheld,” his eyes meeting hers. “So glorious indeed, one session would not be enough Miss Granville, when there is so much to know of the fruit. I dare say with you it would take many …”

A tingling at the door, another customer, an interruption into the world around them. Or more like, the world interrupted into the realm they had delved to remind them they were not so alone.

"Lady Granville," came a gruff voice from a stocky man on the tall side, folding his arms and raising the eye of suspicion upon the proceedings. His voice weighted towards this being inappropriate behavior as he could not say this so aloud, as she was a woman of society his place wasn't to publicly chastise. And again, his voice suggested when out of ear shot of any such society she would get an earful while James took in an eyeful.

Mathieu had studied the situation well enough on his voyage up from the islands that he recognized the escort if by attitude and proximity to the lady. "Ah, perhaps this is not the time to ponder your passion fruit after all." This was said towards Charlotte, but at the last moment he turned his gaze on the care taker as if he had been part of the conversation all along.

To which the caretaker rolled his eyes, but came forth with a price for the tasting, which was separate from the leaves purchased by Lady Granville and to further his point, Mathieu fidgeted with his own coin purse, pulling it from an inner pocket of his jacket and opening the rounded leather to give exact count plus one for the effort.

Charlotte waited patiently for Mathieu’s reactions. With great attention, she watched him as he sipped at the tea. His expression was rather curious and left much to her imagination. She couldn’t help but wonder just what it was he was thinking in that moment, that moment where the steamy hot liquid riddled with intense and pleasing flavors touched his tongue and began to fill his mouth and tease his taste buds. If she had to guess, she’d dare say he enjoyed it most immensely. Perhaps even more than she just had. Then again, this man was a connoisseur, her tutor. A master when it came to exotic teas.

Delighting in the way Mathieu’s eyes fluttered and lips twitched, Charlotte found her own lips quirking up into a small smile. Her cheeks turned rosy once more and another wave of heat washed over her. As it did, she shifted her stance yet again, interestingly moving even closer to her new tutor. It was then that this intriguing man began to speak, answering her questions most profoundly, firming up her thoughts and solidifying her view of him forever.

Charlotte was just about to reply, let Mathieu that she’d very much enjoy another session, perhaps one a bit more private when…

“Lady Granville.” That voice. Charlotte knew it all too well. James had finally found her. Her fairytale was over. She’d never see her tutor again. All hopes, once again, dashed and forced to flit out the window and over the ocean like the fickle breezes blowing through the tea shoppe.

Charlotte let out a tiny sigh and gave Mathieu a most expressive look, one of sorrow and apology. More than anything she wished to resume conversation, finish what they’d started. Though something in the back of her mind had said there was much more between them than tea. But what? Swallowing, she gave Mathieu a low curtsy. She hoped it irritated James as that was her intent. Her curtsy low and almost improper as she gave the man a perfect view of her body, making it clear that she approved of his admiration and flirtation, if that was what he’d been doing.

It was nice to dream, if even only for a little while…

“Perhaps not today,” Charlotte replied as she finally stood upright once more. She gave James a glare of distaste and turned her eyes back to Mathieu. She moved so that he could glimpse her ankles if he so chose, making sure that James would notice it. She was angry, frustrated. She wanted to continue her game. “Though I very much enjoyed our first session,” she then added. Taking care to say ‘first’ so as to let her tutor know that she wished for another. Hoped for another. “But, I’m afraid I must take my leave of you now.” She gestured toward James and gave him a coy smile. Curtsying once more, she said, “Good day, kind sir.”

At that, Charlotte turned and walked toward the tea shoppe’s front door, making sure to sway a bit as she walked in hopes of getting Mathieu to glance at her one last time before they parted. It had been fun pretending the man pined from afar, pretending that they’d meet again. Curse her over protective parents! Curse James!

“That was a silly thing to do, Miss Granville,” James mumbled the moment he and Charlotte were outside and away from listening ears.

“Was it?” Charlotte asked, though it was hardly a question.

“It was. You placed yourself in needless danger and I won’t have you risking yourself in such a reckless fashion.”

Charlotte stopped the moment James finished his words. Turning around to face the large man, she narrowed her eyes and scowled. “James. You may be my escort, my parents idea of a chaperone, but you do not control me.” She was furious, her eyes glittering with anger. “I will make my own choices.”

“You were distasteful, improper…”

“It’s not your place to tell me how to be or act. I will do as I choose.”

“But that man…”

“Was the most sincere and handsome gentleman I’ve ever engaged in conversation with. I do hope I see him again.” Charlotte’s face had flushed, her anger making her chest heave and heart race.

“You won’t,” James grumbled.

“We shall see,” Charlotte retorted. At that, she turned away from James and began walking away from the harbor, the wonderful salty air and, of course, her Mr. De La Motte.

“A good day to you as well Miss Granville,” he offered again, intoning the younger, singular designation with an appreciative smile. Lures worked on fish like Mathieu and his eyes took all the bait she offered, even if she wasn’t sure what she was reeling in. Even then, he forgot his tea along the curves of her body as she left the shoppe with James. No hope was required for him to favor her heavily with his eyes and thoughts and some tea may have spilled too soon upon the floor as he realized his circumstance and collected his thoughts. Tea left to the care taker, he could drink the rest of the brew himself or entice other would be connoisseurs with its savory aroma.

That day he would walk amused in his thoughts, this James certainly had an eye for Charlotte, complicating his plans. However, there was that sense she enjoyed freedom, freedom from him. She seemed to open like a flower, slowly at first, but more revealing as she found her freedom under the sun, freedom from this James. There in lay the key, as if he could affect a lure of his own. He wouldn’t have to come to her, she may just come to him.

The next several days, as she danced playfully in his thoughts, perhaps the certain spring in her step than had arisen at the lustrous view she had afforded him in that final curtsey, he physically labored to acquire several objects from about the town. Visiting a jeweler, a tin toy peddler, and a candle stick maker. In these visits he left a few designs, or ideas thereof, with the craftsmen and while he awaited those specifications, he stole away to the Granville home that he may understand the layout of the grounds and the home proper itself. Passing as any neighborly gentlemen of refinement himself, he would walk about once every few hours to study the layout and perhaps espy any regular visits to the grounds or gardens conducted by Miss Granville.

At a time when he felt comfortable with his designs, he gathered his objects and would still away to the Granville home again, hopefully to have found such a time necessary when she would be outside, but him at a respectable distance outside the estates to be less noticeable. There he would assemble the item from the toy peddler and the candle stick maker, which was but a clock work blimp that allowed children to wind the propeller to create a near realistic simulation of a working model. He’d requested of the toy peddler that the tin frame be removed and reattached was a real cloth balloon fabric, thin to not give much weight. And to the gondola suspended below, a slot for the candle he had crafted for the device.

With several wicks, he could test the weighting that the balloon would float mostly at an even height at about head level, assured thusly, he attached a dangling box with red lace and wrap to the gondola itself. Assured of this stability in the device, he checked winds by observing the trees, least his balloon float off mark, and when he was most certain, he wound the propeller and sent it onto the Granville estates under the hope that Charlotte’s curiosity would prove the better and there by she would discover the mysterious toy and gift thereon.

The gift bore but a single note, well scripted but to the point, accounting for packaging specifications and weight of the balloon. It simply read: ‘Dear Miss Charlotte, Longing to sample passion fruit, intrigued to satiate my hunger. Can be found at Café Douceur for another lesson. Midday tomorrow, Yours, Mr. De La Motte.’

The small café, with its intricate wrought iron tables and chairs, was tucked neatly into what would otherwise be a brick alley, affording a splendid harbor view to the more wealthy patrons that would frequent the getaway. Should she arrive tomorrow, Mathieu would be awaiting her arrival, at a small table with his back to the harbor and both hands folded atop the table. One might even guess the ring atop his right hand, which wasn’t there before, was meant to be scene in the sunlight as, at midday and over the alley walls, the light and shadow cut enough to shade him and leave his hands in the sunlight, catching the lavender stone in the metal workings of the device.

Charlotte refused to speak to James on their walk back to the carriage that would take them both back to the Granville estate. Just as she’d refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. Or the next several after that as well. She was annoyed, with life, her parents. Just everything. But it was easier to place most of the blame on James. After all, he was the one following her parents’ instructions, seeing that their rules were followed to the letter. It was infuriating. But what made it worse was the joy she saw in his eyes as he got to keep watch over her, making sure she didn’t slip away again like she did when she’d met Mr. De La Motte.

Lord and Lady Granville saw to it that Charlotte was not allowed to leave the grounds for a few days as punishment for her behavior. They lectured about her safety, her status, her gender. Their lectures far from interesting, holding no light when compared to that of Mr. De La Motte and his teas.

Charlotte heaved a heavy sigh as she walked through the gardens. She glanced up at the sun, letting its golden rays kiss her skin, caressing it gently with its warmth. It felt nice and even more so when a breeze would pass over it making her shiver just enough. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was back down by the harbor. Yes, that salty air filling her lungs and making her smile as she recalled the taste of the passion fruit tea. And then there was Mr. De La Motte. His smile, the way he looked at her. It made her feel warm, beautiful… free.

Opening her eyes, Charlotte wondered if she’d ever see her tutor again. She more than hoped so. She longed to hear his voice, play her game. There was much he could teach her, she was certain of it. And, if she had to guess, he too seemed eager to take her on as his student. Oh, if he did, she’d make him proud. She’d be his best. His favorite. She’d see to that. Would prove it every time they met for a session. Just then, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and she noticed James staring at her from across the rose bushes. Letting out a scowl, she turned on her heels and almost stomped away from him. An almost child-like act, but she hardly cared. She’d never get to see her Mr. De La Motte ever again and it was that brute’s fault!

As Charlotte ran through other areas of the garden, her pale eyes slowly welling with tears, she found herself so unwilling to accept her fate. It was so unfair. Her parents spoke of the world and its cruelty. But was it not worse to keep such things from her? Life was for living, not hiding away, never to be seen. Never to be… admired.

Charlotte sat upon one of the many wrought-iron benches, one under a shady trellis twined with ivy and morning glories. James was finally nowhere to be seen, no longer lurking. And good riddance! She had no desire to see him for the remainder of the day. Just then, a soft buzzing sound caught her ears. She perked up and glanced about, desperately seeking the source of this peculiar sound. Suddenly, she saw it. What was it? A tiny toy? It seemed to travel in the air, with purpose, with determination.

“What’s this?” Charlotte spoke aloud, though her voice was soft despite no one being about to hear her.

Quirking a brow, Charlotte stood up and ever so slowly approached the tiny device floating upon the air. She smiled a little as she studied it, watching it move and hover. It was a propelled balloon, much like the dirigibles that delivered the packages for her father’s business. Upon studying it further, she noticed something attached to the toy. A present? Immediately, she felt her heart begin to pound, her breaths quickening as she found herself reaching for the item wrapped in lace.

Charlotte stared at the item for a moment before opening it, her hands shaking, body trembling. Finally, she opened it and inside found a letter. A true smile graced her lips as her cheeks went crimson and her skin went hot. Oh, it was a letter from her tutor, from her Mr. De La Motte. He wanted to meet her next day at noon. He wanted to teach her more about passion fruit. Oh what other wonders did he know? She knew it had to be many and she so wanted it to be him that did the teaching. Without further hesitation she tucked the letter between her breasts, hiding it within her corset. Yes, she’d get away from James. She’d find a way. She had to no matter the cost.

It had been most difficult, Charlotte’s parents still upset with her behavior at the tea shoppe and James being more watchful than usual. But, she’d managed to bribe one of the servants to tell her parents and escort that she felt under the weather and wished to not be disturbed. It had meant giving up one of her favorite hair combs, but it was worth it far as she was concerned. She then managed for another servant, the stable boy, to provide her a means to travel downtown toward the harbor again. She wouldn’t be able to take the carriage, its disappearance would be noticed and quickly thus giving her up before she’d even make it a mile from the estate. No. She needed to ride astride the saddle of one of the lesser-used horses. One that wouldn’t be missed should she take him out for a small jaunt.

Charlotte had chosen to ride Oberon, a gentle male of chestnut brown donning a white diamond patch upon his nose. Being smaller, he was often left alone to graze, occasionally ridden by her or her mother during the days in the Spring time. But it was late Summer now, nearly Autumn. No one would be riding Oberon now. And with the stable boy aware of her plan, no one would ever realize he’d gone missing for a short while.

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to head into town. She paid a valet to care for her horse as she went about her business, knowing he’d be fine in the hands of the man she’d left him with. Giving a curtsy and paying some coin, she then set about finding Café Douceur, longing to meet her Mr. De La Motte once more. The moment her eyes found the sign for the café, she instantly felt her heart flutter, her tummy spinning with nerves over what she was doing. Smiling, she walked closer to the door, her hands quickly making sure her hair was well placed, her skirts smoothed, her body something to be admired. Swallowing, just then she dared to push open the door.

As Charlotte walked inside the café, she began to scan the room. Oh how she hoped her Mr. De La Motte would actually be there, that he wasn’t playing with her hopes as they’d been playing against each others’ wits a few days prior. Glancing back and forth, her eyes suddenly caught a glint of something sparkling, a gem glistening in the sunlight. Looking at the glittering stone, her eyes traveled up the body of its bearer. Suddenly, she found her eyes locked onto none other than those of Mr. De La Motte.

If he were a snake, she certainly had charmed him, but he wasn’t, though when her eyes found his, he was mirroring her own reaction letting his eyes follow her body up so that their gaze met almost precisely on cue. If one really looked at him, he was dressed nearly the same as before, a derby instead of his taller top hat today, but it rested on the table in the quaintness of the café. His cane too along the table, bumped so gently by his elbow as he rose when her eyes found his.

One might of speculated he would nearly embrace her then and there, his hands fidgeting as if resisting such a temptation and trying to give some sway towards his gentlemanly etiquette. When he did step forward, his arms came up, maybe given way to that embrace after all, but one hand skirted past her almost atop her fabric and he gave a bow instead of meeting her body to body. That when he stepped past her, he had but to turn gently to grasp the delicate chair to pull it out for her. Was that really his intention or did he revert to being a gentleman so that he may wear his manners so safely in public least he offend the silent observers of the world?

Though when he did slip past to grab the chair, his warm breath seeped out of his mouth like a warm blanket, soft with anticipation perhaps, “My good Miss Granville, I am pleased and honored by your company.” He did indeed insert some possession in there, bordering between formal and informal. The hand that slipped past her, rising up to nearly touch her shoulder as if an invisible barrier stayed his hand at the precise distance he was maintaining, but it was a thin barrier indeed and he was sure he could feel the heat rising from her body, his lips needing moisture as he greeted her and then offered the chair such that his on tongue tipped out of his lips and ran briefly along the bottom lip. Following this of rouse, he rounded each lip to spread that moisture, least he risk talking raspy from some growing parchedness in his throat. Or as the whistler might do to assure a more proper tone pleasing to the ears.

Eyes following her as she hopefully did take the offered seat and again bless him with an advantageous viewing, “I confess my thoughts have lingered much on the idea of further lessons with you. Indeed, so apt a student, a teacher may wonder what else he has to offer you in wisdom that he may watch the woman you are continue to grow and blossom before him so miraculously. As watching the garden bloom, each new leaf unfolded on a single flower is a glorious development and one to be admired for all its beauty.”

Then he was back around to his side, sitting amiably in his chair and nearly crossing his legs effeminate but not quite while his hands folded atop the table. This was a real treat and again, in her company he wasn’t really minding his chore at all, indeed, seeing her like this made it more worth his while than for his employer. The gears of his mind were turning further still, wondering how to drag this out after she was aboard his ship and sailing for Cordal. Then the curiosity of what she would think of him then, but it mattered not, for he would hold her captive.

The thoughts flittered under the surface of his mind as he leaned over the table precociously. Why, it was almost as debauched as the proximity between them when he arose to hold the chair for her. Though at this distance one would certain notice the rise of his nostrils as he took in the scent that was her. No matter what fragrance, it would seem he found it sweater than anything he had smelled before. He gave no words to what he was doing other than to breath deeply and smile with a small satisfaction somewhere in the idea of a shared secret as he looked at her face quietly.

Charlotte licked her lips, slightly reddened with a thin layer of lady’s cosmetics. Nothing gaudy or vulgar, just enough to emphasize the natural beauty she already possessed. She might have been the sort to show off her ankles and accentuate her curves, but she’d never go so far as to doll up face like the women living in brothels! Oh, the idea!

As Charlotte brought her tongue back into her mouth, she watched her tutor, her Mr. De La Motte, stand up. It was the gesture of a gentleman waiting for his lady and it more than made her tummy flutter. Again, she could resume the game, that fanciful dream that this man truly longed for her above all others. Secretly plotting to whisk her away from her over protective family only to show her the wonders of the world. All the while teaching her about exotic nuances such as… passion fruit.

Smiling, Charlotte walked toward her tutor, her eyes locked onto his. As they met one another, the space between them so small, she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. It overwhelmed her senses, intoxicating her further with his charms, his knowledge, his manner. As he held the seat out for her to take, she gave him a slight nod and moved to sit, though in a way to show off more of her assets, hoping to entice and please. Would it satiate? She hoped not. After all, how else would she get him to offer her a third session?

Charlotte shifted in her seat across from Mathieu, her body language indicating she favored him, approved. She wondered what any onlookers might think should they let their eyes linger upon them for several moments. Would they see what she dreamed, the fairytale game she had playing in her mind? Or… no. She wouldn’t think on that ‘or’.

Blushing, Charlotte flicked a dark curl over a shoulder and smiled coyly at her tutor. “I assure you, Mr. De La Motte, your own feelings on this session are quite returned. You have an anxious student who is willing to learn all that you have to offer.”

Going silent, just then, Charlotte listened intently to what Mathieu had to say. No doubt, her words had pleased him. Or, so she’d hoped. Sitting, waiting, she felt a blush rise the moment he began to speak, his poetic words making her skin go warm as a shiver ran along her spine. She liked the way she tingled as he addressed her and lavished her with praises and admiration. It only served to make her give him even more of her attention, the rest of the room lost to her now that he’d become her one and only focus.

Liking this attention, and from a man so learned and handsome, Charlotte let a soft giggle pass over her lips. “Oh, Mr. De La Motte, surely you flatter me. Though for you I shall do my utmost to make you most proud.” She batted her eyes just enough to make a point, but not so much as to be deemed improper.

Absent-mindedly, Charlotte then brought a hand up to her chest, her fingertips grazing the swell of breasts peeking overtop her tightly bound corset. She let them trail up along her pinkened skin until they found the pendant she wore. Her fingers then fondled the trinket before finally letting it go once more. Again, she smiled and dared to lean in just a bit closer, desiring to feel Mathieu’s warmth once more.

“My plan, Mr. De La Motte, is to become your favorite and most prized student, you see,” Charlotte then added, her lips ever so slightly turned upward. “No doubt with my quick study and your masterful skill as a teacher, I shall become quite knowledgeable indeed.”

Charlotte nodded as her cheeks began to burn. Despite the heat flashing across her face, she held her head up high. No, she would not look away. Mathieu would realize that she meant those words. That she meant for them to have a third session. The fact that they were together as they were, unaccompanied, alone. It spoke volumes. And it allowed her to hold onto a hope she never dreamed of holding onto before now. A hope unlike anything she ever dared dream up.

While Mathieu De La Motte certainly could not deny that this woman, above all others, was truly a woman he fancied. No, he dare say, he longed for her. Which brought a sense of amusement to Gentleman Luke, a wicked cunning, happy thought that there was no way she could ever fathom that he secretly plotted to whisk her away, from her family no less, and show her the reality of the world. But oh that smile of hers, so demure, a hint of color there, but not overly done like the ladies of the night. It was as if she knew he fancied her on so many levels and she teased at his wistful thoughts.

In fairness, it was more than the limps, it was those auspicious angles of her body that she so willingly seemed to provide him the pleasure of viewing. Certainly not just her body, it was the distinct choice of garments that allowed his mind to revel in those thoughts. The touch of thread on flesh, the cusp of her corset, cradling that heavenly swell of hers, exposing enough to really raise the considering of her passion fruit after all. If only to release them, or that potential within her, thought Mathieu.

Lifting a brow out her words and offer of a willing student, Luke so thought it would indeed be glorious to teach her so many more things, it were as if she begged to be captured. Just to imagine, not only was this becoming worth his while all the more, but he was receiving coin for this. Oh the joy in that, being paid for such pleasant leisure, why, wouldn’t that make him the envy of any real gentleman who labors to obtain that ultimate goal.

“Do tell,” he said as the drew closer, “For I can see in your,” looking at the trail of her hand upon those soft mounds, a pause, “… eyes, that you are eager to learn.” Impishly his features toyed with his smile as she offered to be his prized student, his own heart racing despite his want to remain in control of the situation completely. A satisfying inhalation of breath, relieved she felt the same and that she was so willing a participant in all of this.

The ringed hand came out of the fold, and one may take notice of the design of this marvelous wonder, that the gem was the clock, for below the gem there moved a plate of some sort that perhaps half covered the gem from below. This hiding his flesh in that section and mirroring the heavens above, that is, it being midday, the plate below exposed most all his flesh, but following the sun, it would slowly move to darken the gem by disallowing the warmth of his skin to appear through the device, darkening it as the night sky.

Ring held sway on his mid-finger while his index finger so delicately began tracing the intricacies of the wrought iron vines on the table surface. “Herein lies a dilemma that grieves my heart to share with you My delectable Miss Granville,” he said, that finger following a whorl that spun outwards, unraveling towards her own hands. “You are like the finch, a marvelous bird that most men keep caged.” The tilt of his head implied the metaphor that he would expound upon, “That is, you are bound here by … obligations of family, shall we say.” Oh, Luke enjoyed this, the real bounding of sorts was yet to come. “And I, like the hawk, am bound to roam free. I’ve much business the world abound.”

His finger almost bumped into her hand, but he lifted both of his brows with some mild play of shock, stopping his hand before they had their first real physical encounter. “I would like nothing more than to teach you the great many wonders that I behold when I look at you. I already feel the pride swelling, but I do not have the full time to properly teach you before I must take winds to distant and exotic ports of call.” Then his hand collapsed as if exhausted, it resting along side hers that the faintest of his hairs found hers. “I fear if I were to take on a student, she would need to fully devote herself to such study that she must accompany me and, I can see, you are tied to many obligations here.” Dramatic sigh, verbalizing, “Alas …” As if he did not have an answer for the perplexing intrigue.

Charlotte could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Mathieu looked upon her approvingly. Whether he knew it or not, he was making her feel as if he’d already accepted the fact that she was his most prized pupil. Oh the temptation of such a thought, such an idea! If she dared to let herself dream further, perhaps he’d have to admit that she was indeed the best he’d ever taken on. Mmm what a thought, what a dream! It was foolish flights of fancy. She knew as much. But, no matter. No harm in playing just a bit more when things were going so well and in the way she’d always found herself dreaming it would.

Suddenly, Charlotte’s face began to falter. Mathieu resumed speaking once more, his tone somber to say the least.

What was this now? Her tutor wouldn’t be taking her on after all? Charlotte’s eyes began to shift. Desperately seeking something to focus upon while she tried to gain control over her nerves, nerves that were fraying, coming undone. In another moment, they’d unravel to a point where everything she was feeling would become exposed. Leaving her… vulnerable. At his mercy. Then again…

Charlotte had to swallow just then. The most peculiar thing had suddenly occurred to her. As her eyes finally found solace in watching the strange ring upon Mathieu’s finger, she thought it might not be such a horrible thing to be at this man’s mercy. After all, he was a scholar in his areas of expertise. And, from what she’d deduced those areas were many. So, who was she to judge otherwise? He was most fitting for a teacher and oh how she wanted to be taught by him and no other. Licking her lips, she cleared her throat.

“Why, Mr. De La Motte,” Charlotte began. “I do not think you realize just how determined I am to be your student.” She smiled coyly, leaning forward just enough to give Mathieu a perfect view of her breasts as the corset squished and squeezed them together, her cleavage doing its best to lure and beckon. “However, if I am to give into this desire, I should like to know just what it is you’d be offering a lady such as myself.”

Charlotte sat back in her chair just then, her eyes still fixed on the peculiar ring that Mathieu was wearing. She waited a moment, letting the man digest what she was saying. She wanted to be dazzled, for him to profess just how achingly bad he longed for her to travel with him, be by his side. How the need to teach her would eventually consume him if she chose to stay behind. And to a point where he’d have to return to her at all costs, seeing to it, personally, that they finally had that third session.

“Would we merely travel the world? Or would you take a more hands-on approach. See to it, personally, that I learned all I could while I remained by your side? Can you tell me that, Mr. De La Motte? Can you?” Charlotte asked, her eyes sparkling, a hint of laughter residing deep within pools of blue.

Again, Charlotte was testing her tutor. He had but to say the word and she’d follow, would do all that she could to stay with him and learn. He may not have realized it, but she was already his to mold and shape. A statue begging for the hands of its sculptor to touch and caress, to bring it to life and set it ablaze.

“Please, tell me. Your student wishes to know these things if she is to follow you to other lands and seas.” Letting out the tiniest of sighs, Charlotte’s lips parted ever so slightly, her mouth on the verge of begging Mathieu to speak sweet words that would call her to him. Yes, he had but to say the word. And though, she’d never admit it out right, she knew she was already his. She’d leave her family, her home. She’d leave it all behind. And all for him.

Looking quickly at the ring and then back into Mathieu’s eyes, Charlotte waited for his reaction. The entire time, her body language screaming that she’d made her choice, made her decision. But all the same, she waited. So silent. So still. Bringing her hand up to her pendant, she let her fingers play with the cool metallic gadget. As she did so, she found herself hoping the most peculiar thought she’d had yet. The hope to leave her life behind before nightfall.

The hand upon the table found the trail of vines again as he listened to her. Lament feinted Mathieu as he listened to her tails of being the apt student, while he celebrated within. Glistening in his thoughts was Luke, the wealth of the world in his fingertips, it was dreadfully pleasant – no thought Mathieu, she will come gently. The game was still afoot, he could decide later on the details, devils may care, but for now her words poured over him like milk on alabaster, and hope gleamed again in his eyes at his offer, perhaps he wanted to hear that, expected it, and it affirmed his designs all along.

“Traveling the winds is the journey of vagabonds Miss Granville,” he assured her when she became curious about what all was entailed in these details. “For a teacher like myself, this is a deserved opportunity to find so rare a student as yourself.” The hand on the vines reached for her idle hand, the one not inclined towards the pendant, to fold over it so gently as with care and comfort one might give to the most delicate of glass intrigues by a renowned artist. “I assure you this would be very hands on. I would imagine with such an apt student as your self Miss Granville, my hands would have want to truly show you all the wonders that I see before me.” His eyes deep in hers, he lets his finger caress her hand, giving it no mind to brush gently upon the surface of any skin it found.

Glancing down a moment at that coupling of finger to such gentle, warm flesh, his eyes came up her center, looking at her dainty fingers upon the pendant as if that alone highlighter her cleavage, admiring the way her breathing accentuated everything she did in that corset, taking in a warm breath himself, exhilarating in the moment of wanting to teach. “You are truly the student deserving to take on new form, a fine instrument the likes the greatest symphony has yet to behold, we would not be vagabonds traveling the winds, but explorers seeking to truly understand, define, and mold you that all my understand this rare quality that is,” his hand left her finger and he gestured lightly to encompass her entire being, “you.”



Then he spoke more quietly, as if conspiring … with her of course, she was his conspirator now. “A fear though we must leave all this behind,” a wave to indicate the café, the street outside, the horses, the stables, the family house, the city and the world, “Tonight.” Why, it sounded so good to him, he didn’t even think he would have to give ample reason for the necessity of tonight. It was rather soon, but he travelled so lightly, it mattered not when he would leave.

Not so sure of the next part of the plan, Mathieu only hoped this bait would be taken, it were a stretch to fathom she would leave so soon. Oh, but Luke was certain, she’d all but given herself to him, and the way her body read was like an open book, no, a beacon of light, no, a lighthouse, a lighthouse to his ship, tossed in a storm and seeking a wondrous, secluded harbor to call upon that it may find seclusion from that storm and seek the shelter and safety of the turbulent seas.

While his eyes sparkled in this wicked thoughts, his mouth remained serious, as if needing to hear her agreement to his proposal, least he become heartbroken and forlorn.

Charlotte found herself to be nearly lost as she gazed into Mathieu’s eyes. He was saying all the right things in all the right ways. The finest tutor a lady could ever hope to behold. The most delightful of gentleman. Sighing contentedly, she felt her heart beat quicken when he reached out and ever so gently brushed an ungloved finger against her own. Immediately, the scorching heat from his skin touching hers began to radiate throughout her body. She was tempted to steel her eyes away from his for a single moment just to confirm the glorious sensations she was feeling as he began to caress, so tenderly, so…

This was no longer a game. No. Charlotte truly had an opportunity to leave her life behind and find a new one with this man, her Mr. De La Motte. She wondered if he truly understood just what it was he was offering her. If he truly knew how much it meant and on levels so complex she’d only just begun to understand the shallowest of layers.

Drinking in the feel of Mathieu’s finger touching her bare flesh, Charlotte had all she could do to remain calm and collected. She’d already known her answer should he truly mean those sweet words he’d been whispering to her. Now, he was backing them up. Showing her his worth, his sincerity. Oh, how she’d follow him to the ends of the earth now. Only, she couldn’t come off as too eager. No. He’d then think her a child and she was hardly that. She was two and twenty!

“You make it sound so adventurous and pleasant, Mr. De La Motte,” Charlotte then said after Mathieu had pulled away, making her long for his touch once more. Improper be damned! “I dare say you’re doing a most excellent job of enticing your student to follow. For, there is so much she needs to learn and wants to learn. And, she is quite certain that you are the only man capable of showing her such wonders.” She paused briefly. “But tonight?”

Charlotte gave Mathieu a smile. Her cheeks flushed red and, per typical, it travelled along her neck and atop the swell of her breasts. She could feel her heart pounding now, her breaths so quick that her chest was heaving, no doubt drawing her tutor’s eyes to her breasts. So scandalous! But, she was about to seal her fate. He was ready to whisk her away tonight as she’d only just hoped moments ago.

Oh, let him look! Quite frankly, Charlotte liked the idea that Mathieu might indeed look, if she was honest with herself. To truly be admired by someone so handsome, so intelligent, so… Her thoughts were flitting like the breezes by the harbor. Turbulent and free, filled with carefree song and wondrous delights of a life just waiting for her to sample and truly taste. Oh the heat, her skin felt so warm, so sensitive. Every fiber of her being was on fire and her thoughts were solely focused on this man who was about to turn her life upside down. So welcome, so wonderful.

Oh yes, she was his.

“Yes, Mr. De La Motte,” Charlotte then said, doing her utmost to hold onto some semblance of reserve though she knew it a hopeless cause. “I will indeed go with you.” Pausing, she licked her lips, leaning closer still. “Tonight.”

A thousand thoughts floated through his mind when she posed the question if tonight was a necessity. As they came racing, he smiled a charming smile, as if to whittle the time with a cerebral pocket knife. It warmed to the emotions that played across her features, namely that bosom. When the shade of red rose again, Mathieu thought of all the wonders waiting to be released by her, from that corset.

Oh no, too soon, far too soon, this would still take patience. Her mind was working it out, don’t let it slip warned Luke. Like baiting the fish, nibbling is a good sign, and why if that wasn’t a slight heave of her breath as she found some inner strength, he wasn’t a gentleman. No, let the fish find the hook first, least it be spooked away. Why, she was so young, and her home so near, this was a dangerous game to play. It wasn’t taking her like a ruffian this, no, this was letting her decide to leave. This game was greater than any he had ever played before, why, he might give up pirating all together if he turned out so good with this contract that others sought his skills.

Neither here nor now, Mathieu listened as she confirmed a positive response. She would come, tonight. His face warmed to her response, as if not pleased already, this was the most pleasant news he’d had all day and it was only midday. “My dear Miss Granville, this is the most splendid words yet I have heard from those delicate lips of yours.” Yes, he could be slightly more forward now, they both knew the game of wits they had played. There would be time again for flowery colloquy; or maybe, depending how this proceeded.

“My admiration for you as the most ideal student grows more firm,” he shifted where he sat as if clearing some room and moving the leg crossed over the other out some, while his eyes trailed up from her breasts along her neckline, “I cannot say how pleased I am that you deduced I was enticing you as a student. I dare say, a student that weighs well the thought of her teacher and makes a proper selection is more than a perfect student. You are more than a perfect lady Miss Granville.”

He was leaning more over the table, the brush of his finger had some how come to his hand closing over hers as he was near close enough to feel her breath upon his face while letting his fall upon the swell of her breasts as he looked down at her. “Tonight we shall leave indeed. When the harbor bells ring the hour of 11 this eve, we shall meet at Northward Port. There I shall have prepared my ship, the Laba Cally, for us to set sail. You shall know her by the majestic figurehead, a wind spirit with wings unfurled as she beholds the horizon.”

No need to mention just yet that was another ship he’d seen when he landed, he wasn’t even sure what the ships name was, but that seemed to fit well enough. He’d met a man in Porto Quente that sailed a ship of the same name, nothing quite so glorious a ship the one he’d seen here in Viznay, but he was at liberty to borrow.

“My heart is filled with joy Miss Granville, I dare say, we may begin our lessons tonight,” he said, being so bold as to sweep his hand over hers to under and lift it so gently that he may plant his lips upon her warm flesh. Looking up to meet her gaze as he did so.

Charlotte’s mind almost immediately began to wander as Mathieu began to speak. Her fairytale dreams were somehow unfolding before her, in all the ways her parents had warned they never could. Never would. HA! Wouldn’t they be shocked speechless to see her now? To witness the lovely words of this dashing and intellectual man. A man so learned that he was her own personal tutor, one who would mold and manipulate her mind into understanding even the most exotic of oddities. Yes, they would indeed not know what to say when they’d realized that they’d been wrong for so long. Then, she could look upon them, smug and haughty, and speak the words she’d so long wished to utter, ‘I told you so!’

But, Charlotte knew she’d never get the chance to say such words to her parents. Telling them would only cause them to stop her from leaving and that just could not happen. No. She wouldn’t let this opportunity of a lifetime go. It was her only chance at freedom, at getting away from James’ watchful eye.

Lost in thought as she was lost in his eyes, Charlotte suddenly noticed that Mathieu’s hand had taken a hold of hers. He held it firmly, but not tightly. The pressure just enough to send a wave of heat over her body and along her skin. Oh no, this was definitely no longer a game. And she suddenly began to wonder just what it would be he’d be tutoring her in. A strange sensation had suddenly taken root in her tummy and it told her that perhaps there was something more she hadn’t noticed. Not yet.

Shaking her head slightly and then blinking, Charlotte allowed herself to find reality once more. Giving Mathieu a smile, she watched him bring her hand to his lips. Oh, the feel of those lips against her skin was just marvelous. She wondered if this was only because the lips’ owner was him or… No. It was because they were his. Her heart pounding, she felt her cheeks redden yet again, oh the way this man made her react!

Charlotte giggled softly and answered, “I should be most pleased to start so soon, Mr. De La Motte.” Her breath quickened just a bit as a wave of nerves washed over her. “I will not disappoint you. I swear that to you.” She gave him another smile just then. “I am in your hands now, Mr. De La Motte. Wholly and completely. I entrust myself to you and your better judgment.”

Charlotte bit down on her lip. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that this man was willing to take her under his wing and teach her about the world. That he’d care for her as he did so. It was more than she could have ever dreamed, yet the reality was before her and she was going to seize it.

“I best get home then, Mr. De La Motte. I have much to do before I meet you this eve at eleven. But, I promise you. I will be there.” At that, Charlotte gave Mr. De La Motte a low curtsy, yet again, giving him the pleasure of viewing her body if he so chose. When she stood up, she smiled and quickly took her leave.

Charlotte quickly found the valet caring for Olberon and then headed back to the estate. The stable boy had been on watch for her and saw to tending the horse upon her arrival. Luckily, her parents and James had heeded her requests for privacy due to feeling ‘ill’. And she knew the respect they were seeming to show her would only serve to make her getaway that much easier. Of course, she’d have to part with a few more items before managing her escape, but no matter. She’d have no need of such trinkets ever again anyway.

Finding her largest piece of luggage, Charlotte packed whatever clothing she could along with some accessories, shoes and her purses. She also packed anything valuable she might be able to trade for coin should she run out, though she did have a substantial sum tucked away that she could bring along as well. Once everything was set, she bribed the same servant girl with one of her most prized necklaces, the one with the shimmering red stone. And again, the stable boy offered his assistance in seeing her to the harbor. Given that she’d be carrying luggage, he knew she’d need a carriage. He had a friend in town who ran a transport service and managed to get the courier to send word to him to pick her up at 10 in the eve. It was all so perfectly planned. She knew she’d get away with it. Her parents would learn the truth next day, she was certain. But, by then, she’d have already left port with her Mr. De La Motte.

Charlotte scribbled a note and handed it to the stable boy so that he could give it to her family when they finally realized she’d gone missing. It told of her meetings with her tutor and how she wished to learn more of the world by his side as his prize pupil. It told of how she longed for someone to see the potential in her as her tutor did, someone who understood her. It told of how she would no longer remain hostage in her family’s estate, that from that day forward she would be under the care of her tutor and her decision was final.

When the carriage stopped, the stable boy’s friend helped Charlotte out and removed her luggage from its roof. He assisted her in bringing it down to the harbor docks as she began to look for the boat with the figure head and, of course, her Mr. De La Motte. After scanning the area, she finally saw the wings he’d mentioned. Smiling, she pointed to the boat and began to make her way towards it, the boy with her luggage not far behind.

As Charlotte approached the boat, she saw a silhouette. One she hoped belonged to her tutor. The one man she’d sworn to obey, in no uncertain terms. Heart fluttering, she quickened her pace, hoping to reach the boat sooner. Longing to once again be in the company of Mr. De La Motte.

Oh indeed, the silhouette did belong to her tutor, but this was not the gentleman Mathieu standing under the dark light of the cool night air. No, this was Gentleman Luke, the scoundrel, smiling sinister as she began to come closer. For his luck, which ran deep at times thus far in his life, grey clouds moved about the moon like tender hands on a lover, never truly covering but always staying sensuously on the skin to claim that object as theirs. Between shadow play of the moon, the cool air and those shadows cast by other airships about them, he was well suited to the advantageous mix of play between light and dark.

For this occasion, there was a darker hat and jacket, or perhaps that was a play of the light from above. A sash was affixed to the hat, with a card displaying some king or another to assist those sailors incapable of reading with the playing of their card games. Mustache waxed and twisted sinister, the brim of his hate dared to cover his eyes in yet another layer of shadow while he held both arms before him atop the cane affixed with a single dice, as if to proudly display this individuals morality by the choice of gaming they so preferred.

A single hand left the cane to fetch something from a pocket inside his vest, coming low in a fist before him than rising up as a thumb flicked a single large, golden coin to gleam off that pale moon light. “That is far enough boy, I’ll see to the luggage,” came a confident voice, to smug for its own good, less gentlemanly than Mathieu perhaps. The coin was enough to cover the porter fee and then some – in fact once it hit the ground and rolled in a lazy circle, it was evident the boy would have to forgo the luggage else loose the money all together.

By the time the money rattled off the wooden planks of the air docks, the silhouetted man had in his hand the tiniest of guns, holding it at the height of his head, both to encourage the boy and to let the lady know this was more serious business now – that life and death sort of business. Bringing the cane up under one arm to hold it, the free hand extended decidedly into a wisp of moonlight and there in that hand, once it unfurled from a closed fist, was Mr. De La Motte’s ring from the meeting earlier in that day.

“If you so wish to see Mathieu again,” came the voice of Luke, “You’ll do as I say Lady Granville.” Dropping the pretense of Miss or any such reference to her youthful innocence in those words, he further stressed the nature of this true business. Somewhere inside, Mathieu lamented this decision, she would of came willingly, they might of forgone even the Packard’s and business contracts, she was so eager. Ah, but alas, that is why Luke must do this now, even if planned all along, Mathieu was growing too soft. Certainly he could train this lady to enjoy many pleasures of the world, but that would not net coin in their chests. For no matter how delicious this woman may turn out to be, she would not bring food to the table, put a roof overhead, repair the ship, or any such. Luke lived in that reality, Mathieu inclined towards some fantasy he concocted while interacting with Charlotte Granville.

“I assure you, I’d as soon go to your parents with your lascivious designs, you may never see the light of day again if they knew of this,” as if to discourage the thought of running. “Board my ship, we will be on our way. Mathieu De La Motte will be spared.” The smallest gun in his hand, no more than a fold out, one shot piece, signaled to a smaller dirigible ready for float. Even from this distance the small embers indicated the steam engine was firing to life, waiting to fill the ball balloon with more hot air – it only took was to lifting and cat the anchor and they would be off to the winds.

Charlotte found her anxiety increasing the closer she came to that silhouette. Her hopes rising, her happiness growing. Oh, soon she’d be free! She’d be with her Mr. De La Motte! She’d… But, this wasn’t her Mr. De La Motte though he resembled him so. What was this? What was going on? Heart pounding, mind racing, she suddenly stopped where she was when she heard the voice call out.

Something was wrong, was off. Eyes going wide, Charlotte found her throat suddenly going dry. Who was this man? What dastardly thing had he done? Swallowing, her hands beginning to shake, so much fear and worry suddenly coursed over her entire being. Her chest began to heave as she felt her corset squeezing at her body. She was beginning to have trouble breathing. And that voice! Oh, that voice! So familiar, yet so… Her Mr. De La Motte! Where had he gone? Where had he gone?

Just then, Charlotte caught sight of the ladyfinger. Everything else going on about them suddenly went out of focus, became a blur. This man, whoever he was. He was serious. He would kill her. At that, her eyes began to prickle with tears. Tears which had only just started to spill down her cheeks. Wanting to wipe them away, yet terrified to move, she let them fall. Let them stain her rosy cheeks, now going a stark blanch. Her body was shivering now and it wasn’t just from the cold. No. She was afraid. Scared for her life. For her tutor.

Mr. De La Motte… where had he gone?

Suddenly, without knowing why, her mind and body reacting on instinct, Charlotte gave the man a nod. Slowly, so slowly, she backed away, her eyes focused on the gun he held. She took hold of her luggage and headed toward the small dirigible, the one that wasn’t Mr. De La Motte’s beautiful ship. Oh where had he gone? Tears still falling, her breath catching with each inhale, she reluctantly boarded the airship.

Never had Charlotte felt so foolish. Then again, how could she have predicted that something so cruel, so terrible could happen to her Mr. De La Motte? It had been an honest mistake. It wasn’t her naïveté. She was two and twenty! Fully capable of making decisions and using sound judgment. There was no way she could’ve seen this coming. Her poor Mr. De La Motte. How she longed to see his face, feel his lips against her hand.

“Please,” Charlotte mumbled. “Do not harm Mr. De La Motte on my account. I beg you spare him.” Her voice was choked, her crying so very evident. “I would never forgive myself…” voice trailing, she had all she could do to not full out sob. “I’ll do as you say, if you please… please…” Again she paused, again she had to muster up some small semblance of resolve. “Just don’t hurt him. I care for him.”

Charlotte had said it. Admitted that there was a part of her already caring greatly for her tutor. It had been a game, a silly girl’s game. But over the course of such, in her mind, a tiny seed had indeed been planted. Mathieu’s eyes, his face. His charm and wit. It had impacted her greatly already. She couldn’t lie to herself and hope that the man would come to care for her in return. Though she knew such an idea was only her fancy talking. She was naïve in some ways, but she knew the man had only seen her as a potential pupil. But why not dream? Why not pretend? Oh, it hardly mattered now given all this. Now he was in trouble and it was all her fault.

“Please, sir. Please,” Charlotte stammered. “I’ll do as you say. I will… please, let me see Mr. De La Motte so that I know he is all right. I beg of you. Please, sir.”

Charlotte finished boarding the airship, her luggage securely on deck. Looking over to this heinous man, this man who’d taken away her tutor, she could feel her cheeks starting to burn despite how pale she’d become. Swallowing, she gave him a low curtsy, her gaze averted to the floorboards beneath her. She refused to rise, to look at this man. She needed to hear his answer before she’d do so. Waiting, terrified, she hardly cared nor noticed the view she was giving him. All that mattered was her Mr. De La Motte. Mathieu, her tutor. Oh god, what had she done?!