Sometime between when Charlie had descended the trellis and when Sophie had begged off any further amusements for the evening, Charlie had come to a decision. Whatever her uncle's plans included, they were certainly not going to involve his niece. Charlie was leaving, escaping until such a time when she could meet the family's solicitor and claim her inheritance

In two weeks time she would be an independent spinster. Charlie had no intention whatsoever of having to shirk the expectations of a society that had tossed her aside so carelessly. Her home would be outside the circle of the ton. Perhaps a quiet country cottage -

Well, a lively cottage, Charlie amended, with only her and Sophie. Their funds were theirs to do what they wished. Their time to be spent how they desired. And no scheming uncles who didn't give a fig for their relations.

No one would force her to bend - to be reshaped, broken, or otherwise.

Charlie felt righteous indignation dogging her steps. Among those were fury, determination, conviction...

And debilitating fear.

Had she gone mad?

The mantra stuck to her person like a leech - she couldn't shake its perch from her skin, but neither could she let it alone, leaving it to do what-have-you against her. She scrunched her nose, detesting the comparison.

But it fit. By God, she couldn't stay now that her uncle had waged war against her.

Charlie reached her chambers at the end of the hall, entering her shadow-lit room. Flames flickered as a fire snapped in the grate, its ends licking the walls in a fury of yellow and orange and red. It appeared rather demonic as it danced and shimmied.

Nessie, her childhood nanny and current lady's maid bustled in at that moment from Charlie's boudoir. The woman had been more like a mother to her, and Charlie's throat burned, threatening tears. She fought for composure, focusing instead on Nessie's actions.

Her graying hair was a fumbled mop atop her head as she scurried past her with nary a look to the side. Her mob cap, securely fastened this morning, now tilted askew, its various pins losing their hold. Black skirts swished about her ankles as she flitted across Charlie's room, her blue eyes scanning the furnishings. "Do you know where I left my spectacles, by chance?" Nessie peered around her vanity, lifting bottles of perfume and scattering the many trinkets. "I know I 'ad them, dear, when I came in to 'elp ye dress. Nigh pricked myself with a pin doing ye 'air, I did. Perhaps-"

Her childhood nanny, and lady's maid, halted mid-sentence, abandoning her search to focus on Charlie. She did a quick sweep of her person, taking in the twigs nestling in her half-fallen locks, the dirt marring the delicate hem of her gown.

"Oh, my lady! What 'as happened?" Nessie shuffled over to Charlie, her fingers touching the flap of her bodice that had torn, lying limp and forgotten.

She allowed Nessie her mothering, the familiarity of her bedchamber wrapping her in a modicum of safety - temporary, though it may be. The chamber was done in muted shades of cream and blue, white trim limning the walls. Her nightstand held her discarded copy of Ackermann's, a cooled cup of her earlier warmed milk next to it.

Her mother's vanity filled the far wall next to the mullioned window, its presence a keepsake Henry had been all too ready to cast out after her mother's passing. If it weren't for the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilkins, it would have been so. The fate of the piece, however, had been sealed when a bevy of footmen had assisted with its current placement in her quarters. It had a large oval looking glass, its edges beveled in gold filigree. The accoutrements of her toilette littered its surface - a fine-toothed comb and stick pins. Rouge and paint.

Her dressing chamber was on the opposite side, its floor littered with gowns and stockings, parasols and gloves.

Could she do it? She wondered. Could she cast aside all the comforts about her to secure herself a future, uncertain as it was?

Nessie's eyes misted as she touched the bottom of Charlie's skirts, the tear revealing her rounded knee, her upper thigh. "Were ye...did ye..."

Charlie licked her dry lips, her throat thick. "No lasting damage was done."

But even she knew the lie it was. She hadn't been prepared for the staggering lengths her uncle would fall upon to get what he wanted. One relying on her ruination.

"I had a close call this evening," was all Charlie said. A tight smile graced her features as she met Nessie's worried gaze. "But unfortunately for my dearest uncle, he revealed his hand too soon."

Nessie narrowed her eyes at her charge. "I would say it is a mite more than 'a close call' from the looks of ye." She huffed, fetching a washcloth from the basin. She wrung it, sidling back to Charlie. She stopped, her eyes taking in the damage, her mind's eye conjuring the scene. Nessie cursed, the cloth making a pass across Charlie's shoulders, cooling her heated skin.

Charlie's brows jump in surprise. She glanced over her bared shoulder. "Did you just blaspheme, Nessie? The woman always telling me to rise above such behavior?"

"By God, I bloody well did," Nessie stated. She set the washcloth harshly onto the vanity, facing Charlie with her hands on her ample hips. "No better time fer it either!" Her left foot began tapping rapidly, a sure sign of her vexation.

"Why, what would his lordship say - yer father I'm speakin' of, Miss, God rest his soul-" she broke off with a look to Charlie, who nodded obligingly. She was quite frozen by the sheer dudgeon that Nessie had released on her behalf. "'E would be appalled, I daresay, what with the way 'is own flesh 'n blood treats 'is child! 'E is rollin' in 'is grave, mark my words!"

Nessie began loosening the laces of Charlie's bodice. Her lungs expanded as the garment loosened its grip. Charlie took in her first deep breath since the incident on the balcony.

"Why," Nessie said, shoving the edges of Charlie's bodice down roughly, "I could take that uncle 'o yers across my knee, I could!"

Charlie smiled, "Quite an image, that."

How would she have survived without Nessie by her side? She wondered.

Nessie's rambling halted abruptly. Gasping, Nessie's fingers trailed lightly upon some unseen marks upon Charlie's back. Charlie sucked in her breath, not having notice in the hullabaloo the sting of rocks and bramble embedded in her skin.

Charlie welcomed the stab of fury that shook her. Bollocks, that her worth should be measured in pound notes. Bollocks, that she should accept - nay, feel obliged - to concede her fate to another. A fate bandied about like a child's plaything.

Twisting from Nessie's grip, she ignored Nessie's cluck of disapproval. Nor did she pay heed to the loosened bodice or the rest of her rumpled petticoats and underthings. Charlie hurried to her boudoir, rummaging for her portmanteau. She found the trunk in the far corner, half hidden beneath a pile of bonnets. Pulling on its handle, she hauled the bloody thing to her bedchamber, lifting and settling it with an "oof!" of her breath.

Charlie headed back to her dressing chamber nearly stumbling over Nessie who had followed her frantic movements with concern. "What are ye doin', child?"

Charlie pushed past Nessie, wondering what clothing to pack. Perhaps a servant's garb would suit best? She could take the morning mail coach, seeking employment in a household about London. Close enough for an abrupt meeting with her solicitor, but far enough away with a lowly enough position that Henry wouldn't find her.

Or, she thought, perhaps a governess? A strict lady with a severe bearing? With no immediate family to speak of!

Yes, Charlie though, that might just do.

Nessie stepped into her path. "Miss?"

Charlie flicked her gaze to Ness but a moment, before returning her attention to the contents of her wardrobe. "I am leaving."

Nessie's brows drew into a scowl. "Have ye gone daft, child? Leavin' where?"

"Do you happen to have a frock I could borrow?" Charlie asked, realizing her morning gowns and walking dresses would never do for either a governess or a servant's wardrobe. "Perhaps a simple gray one? And an extra mob cap or two?" Charlie moved past her lady's maid, only to have Nessie's hand secure her shoulders, keeping her in place.

"A young woman, travelin' alone?" She scoffed, eyes tired and sad. Turning Charlie easily, her calluses scraped Charlie's skin as she began, determined to undress the entirety of her charge. "Think a moment about it, Miss. Ye could be set upon by 'ighwayman afore you get morn'n twenty yards!"

Nessie mumbled curses, her fingers rough as Charlie's sleeves were pulled down her arms. In mere moments, her bodice surrendered the fight, wilting with a wisp of taffeta, and revealing the deplorable state of her corset. With a disgruntled sigh, Charlie knew it wasn't worth saving. In fact, she would rather never catch sight of the offending garment again.

"I cannot let ye do this, Miss! Why, it would be foolishness."

"You make it sound as if society at large is infinitely worse than the villain residing with us," Charlie said, the ties of her petticoats were next, loosening bit by bit. She allowed it to be taken from her, before Charlie shook off Nessie's wandering hands. All that remained were her chemise and stockings."I can seek employment as a maid, or...perhaps a housekeeper-"

"What lady of the ton would allow one such as ye, a beautiful young miss, working in such close quarters with her husband. It t'wouldn't work. Those situations ne'er do, my dear."

"- or a governess-"

"Bah!" Nessie shouted, readying Charlie's night trail, "you have ne'er had the patience to deal with children either. Ye are stayin' here, and that's all there is to it!"

Charlie walked up behind Nessie. They battled each other for the fabric of the night trail, a tug back and forth in stubbornness. Charlie gave up first, throwing her hands in the air in surrender. Nessie smiled smugly, turning Charlie about so she could finish dressing her.

"What else can I do, Nessie?" Charlie asked, her violet eyes wide in her face. "If my uncle is willing to go this far to secure a fortune, what's to say he won't try yet again? A lady has few options, be she a lady or a milkmaid. I cannot simply snap my fingers and...and become a boy or some such. Heavens knows, it would make hiding out infinitely easier. No one would question him traveling alone."

Despite her valiant efforts, memories stirred, unbidden. Lord Simpton's breath puffing into her ear. The strands of hairs at her temples clinging wetly to her cheeks. The stench of tepid champagne as his hands fumbled. The scent of autumn's chill clinging to the stones at her back.

Charlie cursed herself a fool for allowing Simpton to unlock such terror.

She straightened her spine, sure in her course of action.

There was no place for weakness. There never had been.

"My decision has been made, Ness. All I have to do now is plan my course," Charlie sat upon her bed, slipping the stockings from her feet. "You can help or not, but I will be leaving on the morrow."

"Now that that is settled," Charlie said, "did you not have a relative in the country? Perhaps I can find a position there?"

Nessie, knowing when her mistress' mind was made up, dropped her urgings to the contrary, nodding reluctantly. But the hardened glint in her blue eyes had Charlie wondering just how amenable her dear lady's maid would continue to be.

Nessie stepped back, glancing about Charlie's rooms, before her gaze met the violet one's of her charge. A determined expression tightened the lines about Nessie's mouth. "If yer goin' to do this, Miss, then we should do it right."

Bustling toward the bedchamber door, Nessie called over her shoulder. "I think Suzanne - the lower chamber maid - might have a frock your size." Nessie lowered her voice to murmur, and Charlie picked up pieces about someone's Aunt Penelope and foolhardy girls.

Charlie reached for the pins in her hair as she walked towards her vanity mirror. She was debating various courses of action when she froze.

A door had burst open down the hall, crashing as if it had smashed unceremoniously into something else. Nessie halted in her journey to the doorway, her eyes wary. Charlie knew who it was before the bedchamber door flew open.

Uncle Henry.

His eyes fell upon her instantly, his gaze lingering on her dirtied face, her scraped arms, finally resting on her bare toes. Henry took in her bedchamber, alighting on the ruined remains of her ball gown still littering the floor. His face hardened, before the hard chips of his brown eyes met that of his niece.

"Charlotte."