A late night visitor

It was Wednesday of that week when Charlotte excused herself from the awkward after dinner hours of sitting with her aunts and made her way to her suite. She had Sarah send down to the kitchen to draw a bath. She vaguely sensed the disapproval of the porter who made the multiple trips with the heated buckets of water from the downstairs, but she didn't care. As she eased into the warm scented waters, she could feel the tension of the past few days melt from her shoulders.

Sarah lathered her hair with a rose scented shampoo and the feeling of her fingers massaging her scalp felt wonderful. In her state of relaxation somehow her mind wandered to Mr. Fuller. What was he doing now?

Angrily she pushed the thought from her mind with a shake of her head. Why did she even care? The sooner Black Brand was in custody the better as far as she cared.

"Are you alright Miss Charlotte?" Asked Sarah. "Did I get suds in your eyes?"

"It's nothing Sarah." Charlotte told her. "Are you almost done?" Sarah sensing the change in her mistress quickly finished rinsing her hair with clear warm water from a kettle. Warm towels dried her hair and body and Charlotte slipped into a thick robe enjoying the feel of the soft cotton on her bare skin.

"Just braid my hair for tonight, Sarah." She told her maid "We'll have to redo it anyway on Friday before everyone arrives this weekend."

"Yes mum." Agreed the maid with a slight curtsy and quickly combed out her long hair swiftly working the damp tresses into two tight braids.

"Will there be anything else?" She asked and when Charlotte waved her away, she left the room quietly.

It was earlier than Charlotte usually retired, and she wandered restlessly through her room running her fingers over the leather-bound books and the silver framed portrait of her mother that sat on her bedside table. She spent several minutes standing in her window looking out over the night sky into the dark forests where Randolph Fuller had his hidden lair.

With a sigh she climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up under her chin. It was going to be one of those nights. She lay in bed listening to the night-time sounds of the estate, a hoot of an owl from the barns and the chirping of frogs from the water garden below her windows.

Surprisingly she slipped easily into a sound slumber, and it was well into the night when she woke again. She scanned her darkened bed chamber looking for what it was that woke her, to her surprise she saw the outline of a tall man standing by her open window watching her as she lay under the covers. Charlotte could not see his face, what light there was came from the moonlight that streamed into her room from behind him, but there was no mistaking his broad shoulders or long hair.

“It's you!” She stammered uncertainly, apparently no longer content to invade her dreams now the outlaw was here in person. Charlotte was unsure if she was more excited or more terrified by his sudden late-night appearance in her bed chambers. “What are you doing here?”