"Just do it, Soph."
"I would if you would hold still, Charlie," Sophie said. "I'm cutting your hair, not attempting surgery." Her right hand contained a pair of sharp scissors, the left wrapped around Charlie's locks where they agreed it would be an acceptable length for a stable hand to have. "Although, I might as well be with how you are going on."
Charlie groaned, her head falling back. Sophie gasped, removing the scissors just in time from where they were close to biting into Charlie's neck.
In theory, Charlie had never been particularly vain or concerned with her appearance. For heaven's sake, she was usually in her breeches and shirt, riding Sir Rupert, her horse, bareback. She did not give a fig if her hair snarled during the quick-paced ride. Nor for how it would need to be combed with her customary hundred strokes.
Charlie had been cursing her long hair just the other day. How did one see if one's hair was constantly fluttering about in one's eyes? Not to mention how troublesome it was to dress for the day with all those dratted pins, and the hours she sat looking upon her reflection in the vanity. In the end, her curls still tumbled haphazardly about her shoulders and wished to curl about in whatever direction they desired. And, of course, Charlie thought with a silent groan, how long it took to dry after her evening bath.
So, why, Charlie asked, if it was such a damned nuisance, and if she did, indeed, spend half her life waiting for the thing to be tamed day by day, was this so bloody hard?
Nessie shuffled from somewhere off to her left, and she realized with a start, that time was of the upmost importance. Â If Charlie had any hopes of absconding without notice, she didn't have time to be missish about such things.
After Henry had left her bedchamber, Charlie knew the easiest way to secure her future was to escape her uncle's grasp. Charlie would be able to move about more freely as a low born gentleman with no one the wiser. It had made sense for Charlie to call for the one other person, besides her lady's maid, that she could trust.
Sophie.
As soon as the carriages had begun to leave for the evening, the ton twittering away to find their amusements elsewhere, Charlie had sent a post round to Sophie. She had secluded herself in the kitchens, the pluming smoke from the hearth having been put out for the night not twenty minutes prior. Charlie had already changed into her garb. She had her pin money stashed away in a satchel she would place on Sir Rupert. And she had the letter Nessie had penned to her aunt for her position. But it was the next bit that would last far longer than a meager change of clothing.
Sophie had been led to her not half an hour later. She had glimpsed Charlie's face but a moment, still stinging and red, before twisting on a slippered heel, threatening Uncle Henry bodily harm.
"I'm going to murder that man. While he sleeps!" Nessie had blocked the door, leaving Charlie to halt the missile that was her friend. "Nay, I'll wake his arse up so he can watch as I murder his useless hide. The indignity alone will have him begging me for it! See if it doesn't!"
Charlie, noticing her pleas had fallen on deaf ears, had grasped her wrist. Charlie held on, digging her booted feet into the ground, arm muscles straining against Sophie's determined quest forward.
"You know as well as I that killing a peer would see you thrown into prison or worse-"
Sophie had stared at her soberly, a 'what of it' expression on her face. Charlie sighed, knowing she had no choice. She had had to reveal her winning hand.
Releasing her friend, Charlie blocked Sophie's path effectively. "If you are not concerned with your safety, then consider mine."
The words had their desired effect. Sophie had stopped her forward momentum, her back stiff, as her golden brown eyes met Charlie's. Grateful for the temporary reprieve, Charlie had pleaded with Sophie. "If you did, in fact, kill him, I'll undoubtedly be convicted as your accomplice. Not only do you get yourself behind bars, but I"ll be right beside you. How would that make you feel?"
Sophie, not liking Charlie's accurate assumption, glared at her mutinously. Charlie met her stare calmly until Sophie's eyes fell upon her heated cheek. Her eyes softened, her free hand - the one not currently holding the guillotine instrument - cupping Charlie's cheek. "We can't let your uncle get away with this."
"And we won't," Charlie urged, covering Sophie's cold palm with her own, warm from the heat of the still cooling hearth. "If society gets involved, whose side do you think they'll be on? I'm his ward, Sophie. By right, a man can treat that lady in any way he wishes."
Sophie, temper flaring once more, pulled away, her steps taking her once more to her uncle. Charlie had sprinted around her, using her body as a blockade.
"I'll make it nice and quick, Charlie," Sophie murmured, those scissors pointing in the direction of upstairs where her uncle was no doubt sleeping even now. "I won't leave any evidence, and I'll be silent as a mouse."
"You aren't doing any such thing. Besides, I believe it would be mine, by right, if we had cause for such an action, don't you agree?"
Sophie's lips pursed, narrowing her eyes at her childhood friend. "That's not fair of you, Charlie. What about the delight of your best friend?"
Charlie cast a glance at Sophie. They stared silently at each other before Sophie broke the tension between them.
"Would I get to watch, at least?"
Charlie laughed. "Lord Claymore was right you know. We are quite bloodthirsty."
Sophie smiled, not repentant in the least. Her expression sobered quickly. "Then if my plan is pushed for another time," Charlie sighed, realizing her friend was not to be denied her greatest wish (in mind, of course. There would be no killing of anyone), "then you are determined to do this?"
Which led her to this moment, facilitating between cutting her hair or take a chance and stay.
Awfully tempting to stay, but Charlie knew the improbability of that option.
Charlie licked suddenly dry lips, swallowing hard with a look at those scissors. She gave Sophie her back. Placing her face in her palms, Charlie said, "Do it, Soph, before I change my mind."
Sophie's hand grasped a chunk of her locks, the metal coolness of scissors touching her neck briefly before they were placed in position.
"Ness," Sophie asked over her shoulder, "would you give me a hand and make sure she doesn't move. It would be just my luck that I would happen to cut off an ear."
Panic sliced through Charlie at that. By God, could that happen?
Ness came to stood before her charge. Charlie could feel her nervousness as Ness placed her hands on CHarlie's shoulders. Her grip was cold through the thin cambric of Charlie's shirt.
Sophie's voice whispered on her ear. "On three."
Charlie lifted her head, screwing her eyes tight.
"One."
"Wait -" Charlie's eyes snapped open, a denial on her lips.
Snip!
"Two, three." Sophie's grinning voice came from over her shoulder, and Charlie opened her eyes to discover a tail of her own hair waving before her vision.
Good heavens, but that was a lot of hair.
"Oh, my lady!"
Charlie shook of Nessie's grip, her hand coming up to touch her shortened locks. The strands felt slightly uneven, the longest parts trailing alongside her chin. A few curls were high on her cheekbones. Charlie fought the overwhelming urge to cry. "Tis only hair," Charlie urged herself. "Quite unnecessary to get all shook up about." Charlie nodded. "Yes. Quite."
Taking a deep breath, she looked up, meeting Nessie and Sophie's stares.
The silence had Charlie worried. "Does it look bad, then?"
Nessie and Sophie shared a look between them. Charlie shifted, twirling a strand around her finger as she awaited judgement. The ticking of the timepiece of the mantel was the only noise. Worrying her lower lip, Charlie felt the panic take hold.
By God, it looked horrible didn't it? It didn't work or she looked like a common street urchin, or a lady with unfashionably short hair that would be ridiculed. All this for nothing -
"Saint's be!" Sophie's words broke into Charlie's panic. "You have been transformed!"
"I...I, what?"
"Oh, Miss," Nessie stood before her, her hands cupping Charlie's cheeks. Her blue eyes had tears as she took in Charlie's new appearance. "Yer a changed wom-er...man."
Sophie laughed.
"You look right the part, Miss, if I do say so meself."
"You look like our footman, John, with your short hair," Sophie piped in, moving around Charlie. It made her feel like a sight at the zoo, indeed. "The clothes help with the vision. And it helps that you have more rounded features and a straight nose -"
Charlie had smiled in delight, but by the end of Sophie's observations, her brows puckered. "What's wrong with a rounded face?" Charlie, undeniably curious, picked up a metal salver, turning it over to capture her appearance. She catalogued her features. Had her nose always been slightly overlarge? Did she lack feminine attributes with her overlong face?
Sophie came up next to her, her arm wrapped around Charlie's waist. "No need to fret, Charlie. You looked feminine as a flower earlier this evening. It will grow back. Besides, you are a lad now. Lads don't care much for their appearance. Why, John always has dirt behind his ears-"
Charlie's hand came to her ears. Would she have that as well now? Let the dirt build upon her person to keep in character?
All of a sudden, the sheer volume of her task ahead had her stomach churning. She bent over onto her knees, worried she would cast up her accounts.
Sophie's hand patted her back. "Are you sure I can't just rid you of your uncle? It would be most efficient."
The laugh burst of Charlie, half hysterical. Heavens, but she was looking her wits.
"I have sent a letter to me Aunt Penelope," Nessie encouraged, coming alongside Charlie. "She knows of a situation in Northumberland. A couple of farmers lookin' fer an extra stable 'and. Quiet estate, like. Few people comin' and goin'."
Charlie straightened from her hunched over crouch, and glanced at her two friends. She didn't know what she would do without them.
Too bad her stomach was still revolting.
A thought came to her. "What of Sir Rupert, then?"
"You are taking your horse?"
The question came from Sophie, her tone skeptical.
"But of course," Charlie said, "How else am I supposed to travel the thirty or so miles to Northumberland?"
Sophie bit her lip, her concerned gaze falling on Nessie. "But how would an impoverished lad seeking employment as a stable hand be in possession of such a fine horse?"
"Shite," Charlie said, her hand once more playing with the strands of her newly shorn hair. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Wot if-" Nessie's voice broke into their quiet reverie. "Wot if ye are a gent fallin' upon 'ard times?"
Sophie smiled. "I believe I know where Ness is going with this."
Charlie, confused, glanced between them. "Could someone inform me of it, then, because I haven't the faintest idea what you two are going on about."
"You could pretend that your family has recently had a change in fortune" Sophie said, her eyes animated as she began to pace. The dying fire cast an eerie light behind Sophie, giving off a macabre glow. "So you left to seek temporary employment so you could send pound notes to your mother and siblings. Your father, of course, having fallen ill and died."
Charlie frowned. "Why the father?"
Sophie rolled her eyes in her head. "Wouldn't a father be the one to seek work for his family? Not a lad of your age? It would make more sense to be protecting your mother. Besides," Sophie said, with a shrug. "We are keeping with the theme of ridding yourself of your uncle. Substitute him for the father, and ha! Dead." When Charlie stared at her as if she was one thread shy of a full tapestry, Sophie said, "What? The thought makes me happy."
Nessie snorted a laugh. Charlie gave them both a look of censure, wondering when she had become the voice of reason and logic. Society was surely falling on its ears.
Nevertheless, Charlie had to admit that the idea held merit. It explained why she needed a horse, or had such a fine one to begin with, and it gave her a plausible story if someone were to question her.
The plan was almost preposterous. Insane, even.
It just might work.
Charlie nodded her agreement. Nerves fluttered low in her belly, but she shoved them away, straightening her spine.
Before Charlie knew it, she was seated atop Sir Rupert, waving goodbye as Sophie and her lady's maid looked on, standing in the darkened lane, arm in arm. The moonlight had revealed itself just in time. Charlie kept her eyes trained in their direction until she could no longer see the shadows of her two friends.
Family, Charlie amended. They were family.
Charlie faced forward, sniffling quietly. A biting wind nipped the tip of her nose and cheeks, and she hunkered further into the cloak Ness had borrowed from the servants' quarters. Her knapsack, packed with all the masculine essentials she could need, thudded with each of Sir Rupert's steady paces. A blanket was under her bum. Her shirt and breeches and a pair of boots one size too big perched on her feet.
Her eyes began to close halfway through the evening, the night's events taking their toll on her body. A few times, she felt her bum sliding sideways, ready to topple from her perch. Charlie sat up straighter, her mind falling onto the one thing she hadn't given herself leave to think about yet.
Lord Claymore.
The way his eyes had sparkled when her tart had launched onto his waistcoat. The grin that dimpled his cheeks, urging her thoughts to naughty places. His big body on the balcony as he had come to her rescue.
The delicious way heat had formed between her legs when they were locked in verbal battle. The way her fingers twitched with the need to plunder into his hair, trace the strong column of his neck. How much her nose longed to inhale his fragrance of bergamot and man.
But mostly, the feeling of safety she had experienced with him. The easy way she had teased him. The way he had let her.
She rode that way for hours, fighting the lullaby of sleep, as the first light of dawn began their inevitable approach. It was then that Charlie glimpsed it on the horizon. An Inn. It's lights promising the first hope of comfort in her journey.
Charlie glanced behind her, a niggling thought that perhaps, she had spoken too soon.