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bigladyharmony · 8 months

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Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 13 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

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Summary: Derby Day - what could go wrong?

If interested, you can check out this post for more about Charlotte

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5400 words

Part 13

“What does love feel like?”, she asked Sybil, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Why are you asking?”

Charlotte glanced down at her lap before answering, seeing her hands fidget on their own accord.

“I want to know.”

“Why are you asking me?”, Sybil wanted to know, as she sat down next to her.

“Because you love Tom Branson.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. And perhaps, after days of hearing how it was just a fancy, that she didn’t - couldn’t - really love him, seeing Charlotte accept her feelings was what made her answer.

“It’s strange, really.”, Sybil said. “You think about them even when you’re not thinking. You hear their voice in your head as if they were sitting right beside you. You knew what they would say or think or how they would react to something that is happening around you, but these thoughts come on their own.”

Her voice was so soft and dreamy as she spoke, almost as if she wanted to lull Charlotte to sleep.

“It’s not a conscious choice to be reminded of them, but everything somehow does, as if they were the sun and the world had begun to revolve around them.”

So Tom Branson is the sun?

“It sounds rather invasive.”, Charlotte mumbled. “But it’s not- at least it doesn’t feel that way.”, Sybil argued at once. “It’s comforting really, because sometimes the person you love feels like the only person who knows you.”

Hearing that hurt, after all Charlotte knew Sybil as much as anyone could, and Mary and Edith have known her since the day of her birth, as had Mama and Papa.

Surely Branson, no matter how Sybil liked or even loved him, couldn’t know her better than they did.

“They also inspire you to be the best version of yourself - the true version of yourself. The you without limitations, and maybe the you were trying to hide.”

Charlotte doubted Sir Richard was bringing out the ‘her’ Mary was trying to hide, nor exactly the best version of her. She was just Mary- the way she had been with the Duke and she hadn’t loved him.

Not that she was the best judge of love. Or any judge on anything remotely romantic unless it was taking place between the softly bound covers of a romance novel.

Then again, in these novels, especially the dangerously raunchy ones, weeks of pining, fo sleepless nights, fluttering stomachs and shaking hands all culminated in the purest and most devastating expression of love that was a kiss.

Or was supposed to be. It wasn’t like she had the experience to warrant a literary exploration of the subject on her own, but the last time she had shared a kiss with someone, she had felt so much, she thought she would combust - the thrill of the forbidden, the fear of being caught, the disbelief in the fact that someone actually wanted to kiss her, and that she wanted to kiss someone too.. And that were her thoughts alone, not the butterflies in her belly, not the softness of his lips and the smile they formed after, not the way his hand searched for the side of her face, as always as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, fleeting traces at first, and then the warmth of his palm that lingered after he had pulled away.

She hadn’t been sure that that was love, but it had taught her heartbreak.

This time there were no butterflies, no fear, no excitement, not even the knowledge she was doing something forbidden. It was beyond inappropriate, being seen kissing in broad daylight, and then a man she was neither engaged nor married to.

Instead, all her mind could summon was “Oh-”

A realisation of what he was doing, followed by the rather important question of “why?”.

Her own absence of emotion surprised her, especially since it seemed to be such a significant thing to him. She yet remembered how he leaned his forehead against hers, how his breath had shuddered, and his hands trembled.

For a moment he had held her such, his hands cradling the side of her face, before he had stroked his thumb over her cheekbones.

“I have to go now.”, he had told her, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t place, let alone hope to return. With another short kiss to her brow he had disappeared, something that filled her with immense gratitude since she had not the faintest idea of how to react to that.

In the days that passed between then and now, she had given the question of why people kiss great thought. Beyond her own experience, she had seen it in only a few examples. Of course, her Mama and her Papa kissed, but she mostly only saw it on greeting or departing, or in moments they stole when they thought no one was watching. On the lips that was, her father was quite fond of kissing her hand too. She had seen Sybil kiss Branson, but that wasn’t exactly an appropriate example, although there was a little Lady Marion and Robin Hood to it all. If Robin Hood’s friends set fire to Nottingham Castle and gave the money to the Irish.

Once when she had been little she had seen a maid kiss a footman, both long gone from their service, and once she had seen Anna and Mr Bates share an embrace from her window. Another greeting between those already certain of their feelings.

Why Tommy Shelby thought to kiss her was a mystery to him. It did make things a whole lot more complicated and left a bitter taste in her mouth, and it was especially harsh since she lacked Sybil’s advice. She was so far away.

And it wasn’t like she could ask her other sisters. Edith did not have a lucky hand in love, and Mary, well, whatever in love was, it certainly wasn’t a term to describe her and Sir Richard.

Although they both made a valiant effort, him especially, but she knew her sister well enough to know it was icy between them, even in the suffocating heat. Beside her, Edith groaned.

“I didn’t remember it being this hot.”, she complained, flapping air towards herself with her fan.

“I wouldn’t know.”, Charlotte said. This was her very first race season. Before the war, she had been too young and during the war, they hadn’t gone.

But since the season had resumed, so had the race attendance.

Edith was right, it was impossibly hot, and even in an all white dress, with a white hat and white shawl to cover her bare shoulders, she had to fight the heat with her fan - also white to match the rest. It was a colour scheme that was carried throughout their part of their enclosure. It was separate from the grand-stands, and only for guests with name or title.

There was so much to see - the race course, naturally, but also the many, many people who had come to watch and cheer, the betting stands and bars below. Not that they were allowed to go there. Hospitality took care of them.

“Charlotte, Edith, darlings,”, Mama said, gesturing them closer, “stay a little in the shade, will you? I don’t want you getting a headache.”

“Of course.”, she agreed.

Although that might save her from the planned meal at Sir Richard’s later. She had to be polite and kind for Mary’s sake, but that didn’t mean she had to like him.

Right now, he was bragging to Mary about all the bets he had laid on the horses. Charlotte didn’t know much about racehorses, how could she?

But she was looking forward to seeing them - so tall and proud and strong.

Only until the race started, there were a lot of greetings that had to be exchanged, a near endless list of people to be introduced to and an infinite number of courtesies to be exchanged.

The heat didn’t exactly help make that more durable. Everyone said the same things. Unfortunately for her, she was still a topic of interest, as a debutante and a fresh face, with Edith, who kept her company, sadly being unable to take much of it away from her.

“I just need a minute.”, she whispered softly, after one particularily keen Viscount had taken his leave.

“Do you want me to come with you?”, Edith asked, but she shook her head and took her absence with a squeeze of her hand.

She walked all the way to the edge of the balcony, to where the waiters were loading champagne glasses on a tray.

One drink will probably kill me in this weather, she thought, and instead opted to look down at the ring below.

People there looked to be far more excited, far more at ease than them up here.

There were so many of them - hundreds upon hundreds. Charlotte tried to think if she had ever been to an event with this many people crowded into one place. Each and every figure she saw had their own mind, their own name and family and fate, their own reasons for being here today and their own loved ones they could come home to.

It was rather overwhelming - so many, so very many and just one her.

But then she spotted something, a man, in a long dark coat, too far away for her to make out his face, but she didn’t have to. Why should she, if she noticed the walk?

Charlotte couldn’t help the wide smile that came to her lips at once.

Tommy.

He was headed in the direction of their hospitality, or close rather, and with every step he took, her heart began to beat faster. Then the memory of their last interaction came back and made her smile drop, taking with it the excitement of possibly introducing the man whose foundation she helped build to her family to finally get their approval for her work. It would be wise not to mention the kiss - and if she told Tommy that, he too may forget it ever happened and they would all be able to go on as they had, working together on a real project.

This was just the plan! Besides, she could introduce him to the other guests too. That wouldn’t hurt his business.

Glancing over her shoulder, she rushed towards the exit of the hospitality and began to rush down the stairs.

She passed four sets of security officers, who all gave her funny looks, but didn’t stop her. They weren’t allowed to talk to her after all.

Once she was down, she had to weave her way past a few race goers to reach him.

He didn’t seem to care for any of the surroundings, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on something ahead of him.

“Tommy!", She called once she came into earshot. “Tommy!”

His head piqued up, but there was no smile on his lips, no light in his eye- nothing.

Instead he just stared at her as if he didn’t recognise her.

"How wonderful to see you!”, she said, offering him a wide smile, in spite of the pit in her stomach. Perhaps she had miscalculated drastically. Then again, what reason would he have to wish to avoid her when he had been the initiator during their last encounter?

"You're here?", He asked breathlessly.

"Of course I am.", She said. "We all came, it’s the first race of the season and Papa said we could go.”

As she spoke, she looked up at the balcony of the enclosure.

"I could introduce you if you like.", she offered.

"Introduce me?", He asked as if he didn't understand a word she was saying, as if the language was foreign to him.

"Yes, my parents would surely be most interested in meeting you.”

He shook his head, swallowing hard.

"No, no, Charlotte.", He said under his breath, his pale blue eyes glancing around as if he was searching for something.

"But why not?”, she demanded to know, trying not to sound as disappointed as she was.

"This is not a good time. I have things to do."

"Aren’t you here to enjoy the race?”

What other things were there to do at a race track?

He didn’t say. Instead, his eyes danced around impatiently.

“Tommy are you quite alright?"

He didn't respond. Instead he licked his lips, took her by the arm and pulled her up the stairs.

"That's your family? Over there?", He said breathlessly, pointing at them.

"Yes, do you want me to introduce-"

"No!", He insisted sharply. "No, that blonde one? The tall one that's your cousin, yeah?"

His tone was rougher than she was used to, coming from him. “That’s your cousin, Captain Crawley”

She was surprised to hear him using his military title. He didn’t like anything to do with the military, and Matthew hadn’t been a Captain since the war ended, and hadn’t introduced himself as such. Why would he know his rank?

“Well, yes, Matthew.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His grip was uncommonly tight.

"You stay close to him, you hear me? Promise me you'll stay close to him."

His eyes were wider than usual, and although he didn't show more emotion than usual, there was something about his voice that made her skin crawl, something that made her heart skip a beat.

"Tommy, whatever's the matter?", She demanded to know.

He took a deep breath and came even closer, so close that she could smell the lingering scent of an already-smoked cigarette.

One of his hands found her cheek.

"Promise me you'll stay close to your Captain.”

“But-”

“Charlotte, I need you to promise me.”, he snarled. “I’ll try to find you after the race and if not, I’ll call you tonight.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good. Now go, go!"

The police officers let her through without a word but with suspicious glances.

It was as if his uneasiness had washed over her, even once she was with her family once more.

"What has gotten you so pale, Poppet?", Mama asked, putting an arm on her back. “Is it the heat?”

She waved for a lemonade.

Sipping it, Charlotte’s eyes scanned the track below, trying to find something - anything - that would be amiss. He wasn’t like that for no reason. Something must have happened. Something must have him concerned. It couldn’t have been the kiss, surely?

Maybe something is wrong with his horse.

But she saw nothing, no one, and his horse was brought to the starting line.

Before the race started, she moved up next to Matthew, Tommy’s instructions ringing in her head.

He had been in quite a mood today, but didn’t seem to mind her company.

The gunshot rang through the air and the horses began to race, and yet she still couldn't look at them. Instead she looked at everything else, even as all around her the people cheered.

Then she felt commotion- it wasn't that she saw it, not at first, but she felt the shift of energy all around her as if someone had clicked a switch.

Soon after, Matthew noticed too, his head peeking up and his eyes dancing around the ring below.

Then, he suddenly stepped away from the balcony and towards the exit. Charlotte followed suit, but by the time she reached Matthew, he had already returned from speaking to the police officer.

"What is going on?", She asked him, taking his arm.

"Nothing.", He lied, and very poorly at that, guiding her back to the group. Charlotte, however, saw that only two policemen remained at the entrance of the group.

Stay close to him.

"Matthew, where have all the policemen gone?"

He swallowed hard and gave her arm a little squeeze. "Everything is fine."

It's not, she thought as her eyes darted over everything that was happening below. It's not fine.

She had no clue what was happening but she knew it had to do with Tommy. She just felt it deep down in her bones.

Absentmindedly, her fingers brushed against her dress, where Sybil’s pearl pendant lay beneath.

But the race went on, and the people, most people, even Mama and Papa, Edith and Sir Richard were watching and cheering. Only she knew she and Matthew and Mary who had caught them both looking and was now equally confused.

There was loud cheering as the race concluded, followed by celebratory drinks and the like, but Charlotte could only stand at the edge of the balcony, staring down at the ring.

She knew there was something she was missing, but even as the stands began to clear, she couldn’t say what it was.

“Charlotte?”, she heard a booming voice from below. “Oi, Charlotte, that’s you up there, eh?”

She recognised the voice at once, but it took her a while to find the person that spoke.

Only when she heard Arthur Shelby curse “Get the fuck off me!”, and saw the ring of commotion did she realise he was on the steps already.

They wouldn’t let him in, they wouldn’t let anyone in.

“Charlotte, come ‘ere love, we need your help!”, he said, gesturing at her to come down.

She glanced back at where her family was sitting and standing with drinks. “A moment’s all we need, come ‘ere”, Arthur Shelby repeated.

There was a burning in his eyes, that made her rush towards the exit.

“Ma’am, you shouldn’t leave the enclosure.”, the police officer warned. “It’s not safe out there.”

Arthur growled at the man as he took her arm.

“She’s safer with us than you!”

They were walking so swiftly, she had trouble keeping up. “What’s going on?”, she asked him breathlessly. “Is everything alright.? Has something happened with Tommy?”

“Wha- yeah, Tommy is Tommy, he’ll be fine.”, he growled. "Wherever the fuck he is."

That was not at all reassuring, especially given his use of profanities. They made her flinch each time.

He hurried her past tables and chairs with empty glasses and tipped over bottles until they reached the edge of the circut.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Arthur?”, the familiar voice of John Shelby asked. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s the only one who can go in there.”, he said. “The only woman here we know.” “Go where?”, Charlotte asked.

John spat on the floor. “What happened?”, she demanded to know, glancing at each of them in turn.

All of this made her skin crawl, from the distress in the crowd, the swearing and the fact that John was as keen as ever to be in her company.

For a moment, both Shelby brothers stared at each other, and she knew they were having a silent deliberation.

“Fine.”, John finally spat, beckoning her closer. Only now did she realise that they were close to the facilities.

“Lizzie’s in there and she won’t come out. Just get her to come out and don’t ask stupid questions.”

He had always been dismissive and rude to her but now he had an urgency in his voice.

“Miss Stark?”, she asked.

“Please.”, John sneered, although it was clear he didn’t like saying it.

This is why Arthur took me? For the emergency that Lizzie Stark wasn’t leaving the facilities? It almost sounded like a bad joke to her, but she was here now and so she nodded and walked towards the facilities, passing the security guard standing by to ensure order.

Charlotte walked inside. By now, it was nearly deserted, her heels echoing on the wooden ground.

The first door was open, as was the second, and the third and even the fourth. The fifth, the one furthest away from the door was the only one locked.

But behind it, there was silence.

Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped closer to the stall door. “Miss Stark?”, she asked softly. “It’s me, Charlotte Crawley.”

“Go away.”, she snapped. But it wasn’t an angry voice. It was strained and tense and Charlotte swore she heard a sniffle too.

“The Shelbys are outside. They are worried about you and they sent me to fetch you.” “Fuck them!”, she spat, her voice trembling, followed by a shuddering breath.

Charlotte flinched slightly, the palm of her hand against the door.

“Miss Stark? Is everything alright?”

The stall door was opened with such force, Charlotte jumped back. “Does it look fucking alright to you?”, she screamed at her in a tone that made her flinch worse than teh swearing had done.

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she saw the cut on her brow and the blood on her cheek. The top of her dress had been ripped and she had lost her hat, leaving her hair in a tangled mess.

Her eyes were red from crying, smudging the dark makeup around them.

A hand flew to her mouth. “I’ll call the nurses!”, she insisted and had already turned, when a bruising iron grip clasped her wrist, pulling her back. “No!”, she hissed. “No fucking nurses. And no fucking Shelbys!”

More tears spilled out of the corner of her eyes, spreading the dark makeup around her eyes further, and her voice cracked as she said their name. Then, in a split second, the fury seemed to abandon her, leaving her weak and hurting almost like a lost child.

“I just want to leave. I just want to fucking leave.”, she wept, clasping her hands over her face.

When the other woman began to sob, Charlotte did the only thing she could think of and that was stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace. To her own shock, Miss Stark clung to her with a strength she had not anticipated, her whole body trembling as her hands dug into her. “I just want to leave. I just want to leave. I just want to leave.”, she repeated again and again.

“Alright.”, Charlotte said, her own voice breathless, as she tried to think of what to do. Step by step, she thought. I’ll figure it out as we go.

“We can leave.”, she offered, allowing her request.

“But they are outside. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to speak to them!”, she insisted.

“You won’t have to.”, Charlotte said. “You can leave with me, We’ll find a way.”

She could put her in a car home, but this was so unlike the Miss Stark she had known and she felt responsible for her. Something told her that she shouldn’t leave her alone. “I can’t go out like this.”, Miss Stark whispered as she saw her reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck!”, she whispered, cursing her own reflection.

Charlotte draped her shawl over her shoulders. It hid her ripped dress. It left her own arms bare, but oh well. At least her dress wasn’t ripped.

Then she took her handkerchief and let water run over it before wiping her cheeks like she would do with those of a child, before smoothing down her hair.

“Better?”, she asked.

Miss Stark only nodded meekly.

“I can take you with me. To London.”, Charlotte offered. “You won’t have to go home with the Shelbys. Is that alright?”

The nod was barely there, but she took it as confirmation enough. One arm was around her waist, the other holding her arm.

Once outside, they were swarmed by Arthur and John and at once, she felt the other woman tense. “Miss Stark doesn’t wish to speak to you!”, she announced without stopping in her tracks, like Mary would, and they just kept walking.

For a while she feared that they might come after her, but thankfully her tone seemed to have stunned them into silence..

Charlotte walked over to their hospitality with Miss Stark, in front of which now six police officers stood.

“Sorry no access.”, he told them.

Charlotte scowled at him. “I am an invited guest!”

They exchanged a glance. “There were orders not to let anyone in, Miss.”

Charlotte spoke with all the authority the Crawley family history granted her, with the forcefulness that would put Mary’s to shame. “I am no Miss, Sir, I am Lady Charlotte Crawley, now I politely request you let us pass right this instant!”

Her tone was less polite, granted, but it did make them step aside.

Most people had moved away from the balcony and inside to the shade and the cooler drinks. “Would you like to come or wait here?”, she asked, but before Miss Stark could answer, she heard fast footsteps. “Charlotte, there you are!”, her mother scolded. “I was so worried. You can’t just disappear like that with no one knowing where you are.!”

“Apologies, Mama!”, she said quickly. “I-

Over her shoulder, she could see her looking at Miss Stark, her eyes wide.

“Mama, this is Miss Stark. She works for Mr. Shelby- the foundation, you remember?" At that mention, Miss Stark scoffed and seemed to shrink into herself.

“What happened?”, her mother demanded to know, concern written all over her face, and a recognition Charlotte knew she lacked. What confused her about Miss Stark’s state, seemed immediately obvious to her mother. “I fell, Milady.”, Miss Stark said without looking at her, the injured side of her face turned away. “The heat.”, Charlotte said at once. “Miss Stark lives quite far from here and so I was wondering if perhaps I could take her back to the house, to rest.”

“Of course.”, her mother said at once. “But I gave the staff the day off until dinner, so you’ll be on your own. Perhaps you take her to Rosamund’s?”

“We can manage, I think.”, Charlotte said, glancing at Miss Stark. “Well then, have the chauffeur take you.”

“But who will take you to the luncheon?”, she asked.

“I won’t have you two young women in a stranger's car. “, she said sternly, “Run along now. I’ll make your apologies to Sir Richard.”

“Thank you, Mama!”, she said, as a tension she didn’t know fell from her, as she kissed her goodbye.

The car ride was entirely silent, all the way from Epsom to St. James Square, with Miss Stark trembling beside her, and her not knowing which words to say.

Usually, in the absence of causes for conversation one could always turn for the weather or flowers of the season as topics, but both seemed hollow and useless to her now.

Inside, Paul, the hallboy opened the door. It was strange to return to such a deserted house without Carson or Mrs Hughes or anyone there, but she felt that Miss Stark might prefer it this way.

“I…I..”, Charlotte stammered, before relinquishing her attempt at sounding like the presentable and put together hostess. For that, she was just too unsettled and uncertain. “Just please tell what you need.” “Can I wash somewhere?”, she asked, speaking to the tips of her shoes.

“Of course.”, Charlotte said. She took Miss Stark by her hand and helped her up the stairs and down the corridor to the bathroom she shared with Edith and Mary.

With Miss Stark was just standing there, it was left to Charlotte to draw her a bath and lay out some towels for her. “Everything is here, I think. Just use whatever you want.”

With that, she left Miss Stark alone. Only once she was alone with the silence, Charlotte felt her hands tremble.

She didn’t claim to understand everything, but she understood enough to know that something truly horrid had happened to Miss Stark today, something so awful it made her mother throw out all their day’s plans and even end the scolding of her running off. And by chance it was her taking care of the woman now.

In he mother’s parting words was a charge, a task she would now fulfill to the best of her abilities.

Miss Stark was a great deal taller than her, more Mary’s size, but she couldn’t take her sister’s clothes and so she picked out some of the clothes she had brought which she thought Miss Stark might like to wear, and placed her robe over the fire Paul had lit in her bedroom.

Then she set about trying to find anything else that might be helpful.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

When she hadn’t heard a noise from the bathroom in over an hour, she knocked on the door. “Do you need anything, Miss Stark?”, she asked.

When she didn’t hear a response, she decided to try again. “I have a robe here, if you want to step out. It’s been warmed, I presume the water has turned cold by now.”

When once again, no response came, Charlotte decided to open the door and enter. Miss Stark had already stepped out of the bath and was sitting next to it on the floor, with towels wrapped around her body. Her hair was still dripping wet.

But she got up, when Charlotte came in and put on the robe she offered.

Her own clothes had been torn by her own hand and thrown on a pile.

“Do you…ah…have any clothes I could borrow?”, she asked.

Charlotte guided her back to her bedroom and showed her the pieces she had set out for her.

“I will let you change.”, she said softly and stepped out once more, going down to fetch what she had prepared earlier. Miss Stark looked confused when Charlotte returned with a tray.

“I brought tea and cakes. I would have cooked something, but I don’t know how and the staff has the day off.”, she admitted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She had also added a bowl of chocolates and some tarts from yesterday’s tea she could find.

“I hope that’s alright.”

Miss Stark stared at her with wide eyes. “I also found Mrs. Hughes medical kit. I think you might need some iodine or cream for…”

The fact that Miss Stark only stared at her made her increasingly uneasy.

“I could also have a doct-”

“No doctor!”, she insisted at once.

She nodded and raised her hands to soothe her. “Whatever you want. We have a telephone in the hall that you can use if you want to call someone.” “No one there to call.”, she whispered under her breath.

That felt like a punch to her gut.

“Miss Stark,”, she said softly, “I want to help you but I don’t know how.”

The woman’s dark eyes found her, staring right into her soul and making Charlotte feel as weak and foolish as a school girl. But for once, there was no malice in her gaze, just…sheer disbelief.

“Do you have a cigarette?”, she asked, shaking her head with resignation.

Charlotte wrung her hands. “I guess I could bring you one of Papa’s cigars.”, she offered. “They are kept in the Smoking room. He has South Americans which he is rather fond of.”

Miss Stark scoffed and shook her head.

Then she bit her lip and looked up at her.

“Why are you even helping me?”, she asked. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”, Charlotte argued, her voice softly, “we are not the best of friends, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.”

In all, she doubted she hated anyone. Except perhaps Fräulein Kelder, her old Nanny, with Sir Richard being a close second.

Lizzie Stark scoffed and shook her head, then another curse slipped her lips.

“I didn’t believe them when they said you didn’t know, but you really don’t, do you?”

Charlotte felt her chest tighten.

“Know what?”, she asked, her hands finding Sybil’s pearl.

“About Tommy.”

She said the name like a curse, as if each word was a glass shard stuck in her throat. “Who he is. What he does. What his family does.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and stared at her wide-eyed. "I don't understand- he's a businessman. He sells cars."

Miss Stark scoffed, pulling the borrowed scarf around her tighter, as the look she gave Charlotte, made a shudder crawl over her spine.

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