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Blood dripped down her knuckles, the deep red lines standing out harshly against her pale skin as they flowed freely down her clenched fist and onto the dirt by her feet. She was shaking. Anger and pain flowed through her veins as she leaned her head against a brick wall trying to catch her breath. Shutting her eyes she tried to slow her breathing and figure out what just happened.
Banging on her door had woken Charlotte up from a most delicious dream with a familiar lady. Frustrated with no chance of release she yanked open her door to find a red faced Lucy. A bed frame had been broken, they were out of porridge, and Charlotte knew immediately that this was going to be a bad day. A handful more of complaints were thrown at her as she went down the stairs and by the time she stepped outside to head to the market she was properly irritated.
Charlotte let out a frustrated sigh as she walked the busy streets with a long list in her pocket. She shielded the sun with her hand as her mind wandered as it so often did to the woman who was not so far away at St James’ place. It was hard being around Isabella, much more than she would like to admit, but everything was about business these days and being nothing but cordial. It was hard to ignore the woman’s beauty or perfume even but what always hurt Charlotte were the longing looks cast her way. It took Charlotte a while to admit that she missed the woman and that what they had shared was deeper than anything else she had experienced before. If she were being honest she knew those longing looks were being returned just as strongly from herself across the room.
To her surprise she had come to understand why Isabella had chosen to handle things the way she did. After becoming a bawd and responsible for all the women in her house as well as her own family, she’s not so sure she wouldn’t have made the same decision as the older woman. Once the anger had been replaced with understanding a great sadness had come over Charlotte and her nights were filled with nothing but thoughts of the lady. More recently those thoughts had turned to tantalizing dreams that left her aching and frustrated. She was sure to be careful these days and never be alone in the same room as Lady Fitz as she didn’t trust herself and wasn’t sure her heart could take the inevitable heartbreak. Sometimes she would fantasize that Isabella felt the same way and they weren’t separated by opposite sides of town and society, but then morning would come and reality would literally come knocking.
A sigh escaped Charlotte as she walked into the shop to find a long line in front of her. It was noticeably warmer than outside and she could feel her mood worsen at the rowdy crowd. The line was moving slow and steady, the heat becoming worse the further into the shop you were. She was almost to the counter when a familiar name caught her attention.
“Fitzwilliam yeah, a daughter out of wedlock can you imagine?! Not surprised the father didn’t stick around, probably too embarrassed” the gentleman said in front of Charlotte.
“I thought she was just a spinster but now she’s a spinster with a child, she should be ashamed really, flaunting it all about like that.” The man across from him responded.
Charlotte glared daggers at the men feeling her temper start to rise like the temperature in the shop.
“It’s no wonder Harcourt left. He probably couldn’t bare the shame of her!” the first man said.
“Oy!” Charlotte felt herself say before she could stop herself. She was seeing red, how dare these men judge something they had no idea about.
The two men turned around confused at the young woman with flushed cheeks.
“You two should be ashamed talking about a lady like that! She has done nothing but fight for what is rightfully hers!” Charlotte exclaimed.
The two men looked at Charlotte in shock before starting to laugh, “Now she even has Harlots defending her! Wait until the other guys hear about this they’ll-” but the man never finished his sentence as Charlotte’s fist interrupted him. A loud crack could be heard and the man went falling backwards before lunging forward towards Charlotte with blood pouring down his face. She took another swing and knocked him down, the man that had stood next to him was too shocked to move. The shop was quiet and she glared at the man frozen next to her before shoving him hard and moving past him quickly out of the shop and into the cooler air. In her rage she had not noticed the taller woman in the corner watching the whole thing and who quietly followed her out with worried blue eyes.
She flexed her hand and hissed at the pain that radiated from it. Blinking back tears she took a shaky breath and rested her head against the brick once more.
“Charlotte?” an all too familiar voice surprised her. She opened her eyes and blinked wondering if she had passed out on the street and this was a dream. Isabella stood there in an ethereal glow with the sun behind her reaching out to Charlotte.
“Charlotte are you okay? What happened?” soft hands rested on her shoulders as Isabella looked worryingly at her then down at her bleeding hand.
“Isabella… I’m… I’m fine, I just fell and hurt my hand.” Charlotte said weakly, too embarrassed to admit what happened.
The older woman looked back up at the woman with the tiniest of smirks, “Your… your fist fell on that guys face?”
Charlotte laughed lightly at her bad luck of the lady witnessing what happened and nodded in response. Soft hands gently cradled her bleeding fist and coaxed her hand to relax, she hissed at the pain.
“What happened?” the low voice asked.
“They were uh ...talking badly about...you. So I made them stop.” Charlotte said softly as she stared at their joined hands, the older woman’s thumb ever so gently inspecting the cuts. She could hear Isabella take a sharp breath in and knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the woman if she looked up.
“Charlotte…” but she resisted the sultry voice and continued to stare at their hands. Isabella released her hand and firmly grasped her wrist with a gentle tug. “Let’s go get this cleaned up.”
She was about to refuse when she looked up into determined eyes and knew better than to argue.
Before she knew it she was swept into Isabella’s carriage and sitting in the parlor of St James’ place. The lady of the house had sat her there before leaving to get bandages, it was everything she had imagined it would be. And she had imagined often. Colorful art covered the walls, and books from all over the world lined the shelves. The room was warm and inviting, much like the lady of the house. It was less ornate with gold and china and more cozy feeling with blankets and simple treasures. Charlotte was careful to keep any blood off of the furniture and looked up as the door opened again.
Isabella swept into the room with an air of elegance around her that Charlotte envied. The tray she was carrying was placed down on the table in front of them as she sat down flush against Charlotte’s side. She gingerly grabbed the swollen hand and studied it, not noticing the blush that crept up on the younger woman’s cheeks. Closing her eyes, Charlotte focused on the bittersweet feeling of Isabella’s weight against her and the stinging of her hand. She sighed.
Her hand prickled and hurt as cold water washed away the blood and caused her to open her eyes. Isabella’s gaze was unwavering as she tended to Charlotte’s wounds with a great gentleness that had the young bawd in awe. She found herself captivated by the sight in front of her. The woman was radiant. Dark curls cascading over one shoulder, bright blue eyes, and a pink to her cheeks that Charlotte hoped she was the cause of. How she loved the way Isabella looked when she was flushed. Memories and the subtle perfume the lady was wearing had Charlotte feeling dizzy when a hushed confession escaped her, “I miss you.”
It was out before she could stop it and the pressure on her hand stilled. She held her breath.
Isabella bit her lip in quiet contemplation before letting out a sigh and reaching for the bandage on the tray. Charlotte shifted nervously and watched the lady slowly wrap her hand. As the bandage came to its end the lady brought Charlotte’s hand up and gave it a feather light kiss before finally breaking the silence.
“I miss you too,” a low voice said as blue eyes bore into her, “and you can’t go around punching everyone that says something bad about me. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The air around them felt charged and Charlotte took a shaky breath, “But someone has to… someone has to defend your honor.”
Isabella smiled and cupped the younger woman’s cheek, feeling her lean into the touch, “What am I going to do with you?” she said softly.
Charlotte felt the last of her resistance leave her as those words were uttered. She looked deeply into blue eyes that were filled with adoration and something she wasn’t quite ready to admit to just yet and inched forward. Stopping when she felt the lady’s breath on her lips she whispered, “Kiss me.”
There was no hesitation as Isabella closed the distance between them. There was a neediness between them as they held onto each other tightly. Hesitant hands gave way to roaming as both women got lost in a flurry of lips, tongue, and teeth. Charlotte’s heart was beating a mile a minute as she pulled back breathless. Isabella quickly stood up and offered her hand to Charlotte.
“Any chance I can thank my hero properly?” she asked quite breathlessly as she peered down at Charlotte.
Charlotte grinned wide as she slipped her uninjured hand into Isabella’s, “I thought you’d never ask.” She laughed as the lady led her out of the parlor and up the stairs. The bedroom door closed behind her as Isabella beckoned her to bed.
A little bit of red soaked through some of the bandage on her hand but Charlotte didn’t even notice, right now she didn’t have a care in the world.