Okay, this is a new story and this is one I'm seriously considering finishing. I have tons and tons of ideas for it. Hopefully you like it!
Happy Reading!
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Chapter One
London, England
1876
Winter turned the streets to slick perilous ice, making the horses skid and the carriage wheels squeal whenever they made a particularly precarious turn. The clouds seemed to be forever suspended over the city, making it morph into white and gray.
It was as if they had entered a world without color or light.
Vera jolted, her spine aching, when the carriage she rode in hit a snow bank, her head scarcely missing the roof of the compartment. Her mother, Mrs. Harriet Adams, was across from her, looking sour and slightly green as they made their way home from a very disquieting visit with Lady Darnold.
All Vera could keep thinking about was the preceding five years, her life spent in Edinburgh with her father, who was now just an image of the past, a ghost haunting both her mother and herself, though she knew that he did more than haunt her mother. Sometimes Vera would wake, unable to sleep, and wander the corridors until she heard her mother’s soft whimpering, crying into her down-pillow in her dormitory. Vera wished she could take away some of her mother’s pain, but she had some of her own to mêlée against; she had her own evil spirits hiding just out of sight, waiting for the opportune moment to strike her where she was most weak.
Those very demons had assailed Vera only months ago at her cottage home in Blackpool. The Adams’ name had been soiled once again by her past leaking out. They had yet to figure out how.
Her mother coughed into her handkerchief, her nose turning red. Vera sighed and glanced frenetically out the window; they needed to get home before her mother fell ill. But all she could see was white, and it made her hanker for her seaside home more than ever, the cool spray hitting her cheeks as she dipped her toes in the water as the tide came in. She remembered the feel of the pebbled stones and the thick sand; she could still smell the salty stench that stayed imbedded in her clothes all year around and the soft call of the gulls.
The carriage came to a sudden merciful halt and Vera helped her mother from the carriage with the aid of the driver. Vera made sure her mother was safely on the ground before she dared a look at her new home.
It was of modest design, one of the few grand apartments occupying London. It was lucky for them that her mother had inherited her own wealth or they would be on the streets or worse. Vera shuddered to think of such events conspiring. Her life had taken a turn for the worst those many years ago but she hoped with her arrival in London and the winter festivities coming up, she aspired to atone for her family name with the only way she could.
A suitable marriage to a gentleman of stature.
Mrs. Adams and Vera had talked long into the night about this in Blackpool and her mother finally relented. It had surprised Vera how her mother didn’t want her daughter getting married, though she was in her blossoming stage, being eighteen. Vera had spent many nights awake, fearful of what she must do. But now having arrived in London, she felt relieved. She could finally do something worthwhile to her family name; she just prayed that she could do that correctly.
Inside, the apartment was copiously furnished with Jacobean furniture and painted with warm, inviting colors, like burgundy-red and russet-brown. Her mother instantly brightened at the prospect of a seat beside a fire and a hot cup of tea. Vera assisted her to the lounge, telling the three maids that they had brought with them from Blackpool to abet Mrs. Adams in whatever she needed.
Vera then returned to the foyer to inspect the bringing in of their luggage, running her gloved hands together, blowing on them to keep them warm as another maid went off to start fires in all the cold grates. She graciously tipped the driver, who beamed and thanked her most dearly before departing. Vera saw him out and took one last glance outside, where the cold wind reached out with icy fingers to curl around the buildings and empty carriages in the street.
What a desolate place London is, Vera thought as she wrinkled her nose with distaste. She had only ever lived in Blackpool or Edinburgh. London was a new experience for her and she wasn’t so sure she was prepared for all of society’s ‘quirks’, as her mother so lightly put it. Vera knew from the nasty talk that followed her in her previous homes that people thrived off of others’ anguish, but they would be rudely mistaken if they ever picked her family again as the topic of ridicule.
That night, Vera Adams made a pledge. Never again would she be the center of a town’s gossipmongers or on the front page of local newspapers. She was going to better her life, if not for herself than for her mother. Mrs. Adams needed that. The older her mother grew, the harder life seemed to get.
So Vera vowed from that moment on, she would be better.
With one last glance at the deserted street for the night, she closed the door on London’s society and for her final night as a person unknown by the higher-class, Vera was able to rest, devoid of being whispered about on every hearsay’s’ tongue.
<<>>
In the darkness of her humble abode, Vera traversed across the wood floor, hearing her parents’ loud shouts of anger as they fought on the level below her. Her feet were chilled and her hands trembled as her unpresumptuous nightgown swayed around her thin frame. Lowering her body down on the top step, she pressed her forehead against the banister and peered through the bars to see her parents’ figures.
Her father was a tall man, one with thick black curls and ivory skin. His eyes were the brightest sea-foam green and Vera had always giggled every time the crinkles around his orbs became profound whenever he smiled. However, those lines were absent as he opened his mouth with rage. He advanced on her mother, a petite woman with wispy blonde hair and pale skin.
Vera’s eyes widened with alarm and she stood, ready to intercept her father in fear for her mother. But her father stopped just before he could create any damage, breathing like an exhausted rhinoceros, similar to the ones she had seen at the zoo once before.
Her mother was weeping, fresh crystal droplets staining her cheeks, making her face appear swollen as if she had been beaten. Vera’s heart broke then. How could her father stand to treat his wife so? How could he feel proud to be so ruthless? This was the moment when Vera stopped loving her father; the day she discovered that her father had committed adultery with another woman.
Vera moaned in her sleep, the heavy sheets tangling around her sweat-streaked body, her nightgown forming to her every curve. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting a small cry escape her open lips before her mind plunged her into another nighttime affair.
The scenes had changed. She was no longer in her Edinburgh home. She was in Blackpool, the summer before her parents’ split. It was her fifteenth birthday and she was strolling along the pebbled beach on the backside of her summer home. She was clothed most scantily in her bathing suit; though it rang all the way to her wrists and covered her ankles, the material was thin—a periwinkle pink—and dipped lower over her breasts than she would have liked. Her hair was tied in a messy knot on the top of her head, her bare feet brushing against the sand, bonnet held in her palm. Vera knew that if her mother saw her so unfittingly dressed—her mother didn’t believe woman should show too much skin or swim in suits with other males—she would get the worst scolding. But both of her parents were out for the afternoon, having tea at one of their many friends’ homes. Vera had faked an illness, too upset that her parents’ had forgotten her birthday… again.
The light was fading on the horizon, dabbling the sky with rusty-reds and ripe-oranges. She halted to let the dying sun douse her with its multicolored beams, and Vera let her eyes fall closed, breathing a sigh of relief. She had never felt more at home than at her Blackpool cottage. The sea always seemed to leave her feeling revitalized, as if she had let her worries trickle from her and fade away with the receding tides.
“Miss?”
Vera spun and met Thomas Bennett for the first time. It wasn’t a very clear view of the man who would steal her heart and then leave a hole in place of it after the summer was over. But it was enough to send Vera’s lifeline fluttering.
He was clothed in only his shirttails and trousers, boots gone, hair a mess of chestnut locks that mimicked the motion of the waves. Vera couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but the hue in her cheeks rose at the thought of seeing him so unabashedly dressed. He called out again but Vera bolted, too afraid to meet him. What would her parents’ think of her if they ever found out?
The last she saw of him before she disappeared inside was his crooked grin as the sun slipped below the ocean horizon.
She woke with a start, her breathing ragged, her brow beading with perspiration. A quick glance outside conveyed to her that morning had come bringing with it a rare clear sky. She breathed in the objectionable smell of must, no doubt from the absence of living, breathing bodies within the home. Vera rose with a yawn and let her feet fall upon the surprisingly clement floor, standing unsteadily to her feet, never having been a woman of early starts.
Her mind brought back images of the previous night and she sighed dejectedly. She had no doubt that being back within society’s clutches was the cause of the resurface of her memories. She could think of only this single source, for she hadn’t thought of her father or Thomas in over three years.
It was then that she noticed that a muslin of ivory silk was laid out for her, along with a new hand-sewn chemise, drawers, corset, and slippers.
Marveling at the superior material, having not had such finery in over a year because of discreteness for her family’s sake, Vera didn’t notice that a female servant had entered unannounced. At first, she thought she was of faulty hearing when she perceived the soft cough from behind. But when she turned, the small stature of the girl nearly gave her fright.
“Oh, excuse me,” Vera stated quickly, hoping to hide that her heart was pounding beneath her bosom.
The girl smiled weakly; Vera guessed she was barely the age of fifteen. That was around the age when she had met Thomas—Vera cut off this thought before the dreams could permeate her again. “Excuse me, miss.” She curtsied politely. “I came to help you with your dressing.”
Vera almost refused. She was so used to doing things herself that she nearly forgot her place. She was in London now and needed to start acting like the proper woman of stature. “Of course.”
The girl bowed her head politely and proceeded to help Vera with her gown. It seemed that the clothes had been already fitted and she had her suspicions that this was her mother’s doing.
After she was tied into her corset and her undergarments, she was able to pull the dress over her head. It was the softest muslin and she relished the feel of it. It fit perfectly to her frame, unlike her other gowns, which hung a very impudent three inches above her ankles and had a tightness to the sleeves that made her look extremely ill-fitted.
Now, the dress hugged her body at just the right places and was of modest length, just barely grazing the floor. The neckline was high, only showing a palm-full of skin and her sleeves were long, the dress warm as winter was upon them. It was of daily requirements, no bustle or polonaise. It was simple and elegant and Vera adored it.
She hoped she would spot her mother before Mrs. Adams went off to speak with Lady Darnold again to thank her for the gracious gift.
Once Vera was dressed, the young servant girl departed without another word and Vera was left to fend for herself, which she was no novice at. Her mother had allowed her free-range of their sprawling estate in Edinburgh—secluded and remote—leaving them in peace. However, that hadn’t lasted long when they went to Blackpool for the summer.
Vera shook her head. She wasn’t going to have such dreadful thoughts. This was a new beginning for her mother and herself. She needed to start fresh and to do so, she must banish perturbing images from her mind.
She made her way down to the lower levels and was greeted by a very flustered woman. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth signified the many winters she had lived. “Oh, Miss Adams! My, your mother thought you wouldn’t be able to see her off. ‘Tis not proper to keep your mother waiting.” The woman nearly shoved Vera from the hall and she barely missed knocking right into her mother.
“Vera, how thoughtful of you to see me off.” If Vera had been unaccustomed to her mother, she would have thought the statement an insult. But the buttery softness of her mother’s voice and the twinkle in her baby-blue eyes told her otherwise, and Vera smiled in return.
“Excuse my belatedness, mother, but you must know by now that my mornings are never met with a punctual nature.”
“Ah yes, my dear daughter, you never were a morning child.” Mrs. Adams winked at her. “I must be off now to Lady Darnold’s house. We still have much to discuss. Don’t leave the house without an escort and be sure to enjoy the cook’s meals. I hear they are quite delicious.” Mrs. Adams then noted her daughter’s attire and beamed. “It suits you.”
Vera glanced down at herself. “I am very fond of it.” She did a little pirouette for her mother, who laughed with delight.
“I’m glad you enjoy it. Now, good-day, Vera.” With a quick grin, her mother departed, the footman holding an ebony umbrella over Mrs. Adams’ head to shield her from the sunny weather.
I plan to write more of it tonight as I wait for my mom 
