Lady Charlotte Wuther
By M.D. Hickman
()
About this ebook
Lady Charlotte is proud, dignified, and reserved. She is, after all, the daughter of the wealthiest man in the world. Her family name has a proud history. And yet she is in love with Dicken Dyke, a mere commoner with an unfortunate anatomy best left covered up. Will her teasing and mockery earn her his love, or just make him palm face? Matters b
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Lady Charlotte Wuther - M.D. Hickman
Lady Charlotte Wuther
M.D. Hickman
Copyright © 2023 M.D. Hickman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.
Little Rock, AR
ISBN: 979-8-8689-9362-6
eBook ISBN: 979-8-8689-9371-8
Title: Lady Charlotte Wuther
Author: M.D. Hickman
Digital distribution | 2023
Paperback | 2023
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.
Dedication
For my parents, whose love and insights made me possible.
Also by M.D. Hickman
Conflagration!
Shorts, Flashes, and Verses: A Collection of Short Stories and Poems
Pressing Matters: A collection of Short Stories and Poems
Contents
Lady Charlotte Wuther
Dedication
Also by M.D. Hickman
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
About the Author
Chapter 1
S
tudents called her the ice-princess of Highminster School. No wonder, considering Charlotte Wuther was the daughter of the richest mogul in the world. Her features portrayed an air of royalty. She had piercing, bright blue eyes, and jet-black hair flowing down her waist. She walked the halls of this elite school like a queen-to-be and her fellow classmates mere servants. Indeed, Charlotte thought of herself as someone above those stupid hicks; uncultured, lazy, filthy, unimportant common folk who roamed about her, and some who had tried to gain her trust, had yet to prove their worth to her. Yes – many tried, but they failed. She wouldn’t even entertain the possibility of comradeship with them. She was better than them!
The Wuther family was like a modern monarchy, and Charlotte benefited from a long, long elite bloodline. People of her class were trained to be proud, courteous, dignified, and display high moral standards. But if that were the case, why would she, a Wuther, no doubt, in front of a peer, inside the school library, whispered this to him: Your wiener is too short for my taste.
Dicken Dyke blushed with a gasp. He was sixteen years of age, same as Charlotte. He had blond hair, a slightly shorter height than even her, and an even shorter manhood length than the average male. How that latter knowledge she obtained Dicken could not fathom.
What the hell are you talking about?
he whispered back to her.
They were seated face-to-face across a broad wooden table, a few books nestled between them.
You looked at my breasts yesterday,
returned Charlotte, and giggled. Remember, when we discussed the students’ budget for that field trip? You looked at the papers, but I could tell you had your eyes on my boobs. By the by, they’re a cup size c in case you’re wondering.
I wasn’t wondering that!
With a deep sigh, Charlotte shook her head. You should be more honest with yourself.
I am! But how did you guess my – you know?
This time Charlotte blushed, but not out of embarrassment; rather because by this point the conversation became too funny even for her.
Oh, you’re so innocent,
she said. You really want to know?
Yes!
he hissed in a deep whisper.
She leaned over to him, so that her lips almost touched his right ear, and murmured: I snuck into the boys’ shower room. When you came out the shower, well, I saw everything except barely that…
For the first time in his life, Dicken was at a loss for words, and he gently closed the encyclopedia in front of him. Although Highminster was an elite school, the administrative staff permitted the lower ranks of class society entrance into their rooms and learn along the rest. Dicken was nowhere near as rich as Charlotte – in fact, his father was unemployed and Dicken worked part-time to pay for his own basic necessities at this school and at his home. Plus, Dicken’s mother had separated from his father and ran off with a lover. That incident brought extreme hardship in Dicken’s young life. Yet, in spite of these troubles, he pulled through. So for him to hear a Lady of Charlotte’s station admit she had broken a school rule just to tell him a dirty joke about his private was culture shock for him.
You’re immature, aren’t you?
he said. You act like a dignified princess in public, but in private you’re more like a clown?
Her nigh uncontrollable giggle confirmed that idea.
Chapter 2
C
harlotte Wuther the ice-princess could be immature at times, but her classmates hadn’t called her Ice-Princess
for nothing. After all, she had to keep up appearances; that was the expectation of the elite Wuther family.
Because of this social reticence, Charlotte felt weary about gossip. She never believed gossip. She preferred facts – provable, empirical, testable scientific facts – and not even anecdotal evidence. But gossip spreads like a virus. Charlotte had seen and heard rumors before. Because she was a member of the privileged Wuther family, many of her peers had quoted anything she said out of context. Charlotte hated this. But she had a strategy to protect herself.
While Charlotte shut her locker door, another girl walked past her. The girl whispered something in the ear of another girl, and the latter chuckled as if she had heard a dirty joke, then hurried away, as if this second girl wanted to pass the joke to another friend. Of course, Charlotte enjoyed toilet humor, but detested rumors. Nevertheless, to protect herself, she acted the hypocrite.
Was that about Martin?
Charlotte asked the girl.
What?
The girl turned to Charlotte, puzzled. She had a bowl-shaped blond hair and a slender figure. If this girl passed a test, she might have the honor of hearing Charlotte’s lewd jokes. But first the challenge must be met.
Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,
said Charlotte. I thought I heard you mention Martin’s name to that girl.
I don’t know anyone by that name. Not personally, anyhow.
Good. Because I’m not sure if it’s true.
Oh, really?
Now the girl sounded interested. What about this Martin, do you know him?
Charlotte shrugged. No – well, not personally. Martin Hatch – he’s the first term student in the drama club.
Suddenly recognition screamed in the girl’s eyes. Oh, you mean that Martin! I’ve seen him play the part of Romeo in our school production of that Shakespeare play. Not to be nosey, but aren’t you in the drama club, too? Did you play Juliet? A rather bad-ass one, if I may say so.
You grant me too much praise,
said Charlotte. I played that role last year. I’m not in the drama club now – I switched to the archery club this semester.
Does Martin have a girlfriend?
The girl sensed the allure of gossip, Charlotte thought, and now time to toss the bait.
What’s your name?
Charlotte started.
Eden Caw,
she answered. Girls her age were addicted to gossip and rumor, and Charlotte would test that addiction with her own manipulation.
"Well, Eden, I don’t know if this is true, but a friend of mine told me she had seen Martin kiss a girl that wasn’t his girlfriend. And it was a grown-up kiss."
Who is the girlfriend?
Adeline Hope, I think.
Martin kissed another girl who wasn’t Adeline?
So I’ve been told.
Are you sure?
Again, I don’t know if it’s true. I never saw it myself, and I’m not sure of the particulars, but that’s the sum of it.
Poor Adeline! She’s in my class, so I probably know something about her. That jerk Martin doesn’t know what’s about to hit him!
Promise you won’t tell anyone?
Charlotte whispered. Let’s be real, I’d hate for this talk to become known, especially if it’s not true.
Oh, yes, I promise.
But, of course, that whole grown-up kiss with another girl was a fabrication invented by Charlotte. That was phase one. Now for phase two.
A week later, a girl named Emily Anne approached Eden in that same hallway. Emily, too, had blond hair, but instead of a bowl hers had veins over the forehead in the shape of a starfish. She and Eden conversed about many trivial incidents of the day. A friend of Eden’s joined; then, at length, Eden repaired to the girls’ bathroom for a quick break. Emily sprung the trap.
Is it true Martin Hatch grown-up kissed that girl who wasn’t Adeline?
Emily asked the friend.
You’ve heard that, too?
the friend responded.
Do you think it’s true?
It must be!
Eyes widened and a smile, this friend struck Emily as the gullible type. Eden had already told me and several of the other girls.
That was all Emily needed to know.
Thank you,
said Emily. Now, I’d best be off.
Emily walked out of the school, where Charlotte had waited at a predetermined place and time. An oak tree shadowed charlotte, making it easy to conceal their brief exchange. It helped that Charlotte had been permitted an early leave.
That friend of Eden Caw knew the rumor, Lady Charlotte,
Emily whispered to her mistress. And so do the other women, it appears. Caw is another gossiper.
Charlotte nodded. Too bad. I won’t be her friend.
As you wish, milady.
Eden failed the Charlotte test. Due to the fact that Emily Anne was Charlotte’s personal servant, and no one at that school save those two knew it, and that both girls were the same age, the test had doomed Eden. Charlotte took pains to ensure that there was no apparent relationship between she and her servant. Before and after school, Charlotte and Emily departed the mansion at different times and by different means, and returned by the same method. At school they rarely interacted except for emergency cases – such like this one – and even then their meetings were terse and planned. This guaranteed the false impression that they were complete strangers.
If Charlotte had not tested anyone, or if she had been more forgiving, she might have had more friends. But survival had always been her top priority. Charlotte was skittish. She only trusted people who kept their promises.
To those she cannot trust – and that’s most people – she acts cold and aloof. That’s why she’s called Ice-Princess.
If only they saw her funny bone.
Chapter 3
C
lass had ended, and Charlotte and Dicken were seated face-to-face, finishing a class project – a written skit that parodied the works of Shakespeare. Charlotte was in an affectionate mood. She liked Dicken but – surely, not in that way! However, if he felt that way about her, then Charlotte wouldn’t mind. Would she?
For those not in the know, Charlotte behaved like a serious, mature member of the elite, but behind that façade she could act childish. And to those familiar about her personality: it should be obvious by now Charlotte would play this kind of trick.
In her purse she hid a cockroach. Surreptitiously, she unzipped the purse, and let the cockroach out. Dicken was too focused on his editing to notice.
Charlotte feigned disgust. Damn! There’s a bug!
The moment she said that Dicken shifted his eyes, and saw the bug on the floor. Charlotte could not have known how this prank might have gone horribly wrong, for Dicken had a habit of fainting at the sight of bugs – but not this instance. He bit his own tongue to prevent that humiliating outcome. Dicken cried out in pain, and a little blood leaked from his lower lip.
Let’s kill that enemy of humanity!
Dicken screamed, and then stomped the floor repeatedly as if his life depended on it.
No! No!
Charlotte protested. We can’t kill it! That would be inhuman.
Are you serious?
It may be a cockroach – but it’s still a living creature!
The bug skittered across the carpet, stopped, made several turns this way, that way, as if it couldn’t make up its mind on where to go.
Then how do you propose I get rid of it?
Dicken said.
Charlotte fished out a hand-wipe from her moneybag, shook it open and handed it to him.
Use this. Pick it up gently with this.
Hell, no! You do it, then.
He balled the hand-wipe back into her palm.
But I’m a girl!
With a harsh sigh, Dicken snatched it back from her hand. Fine.
To catch the bug with maximum ease, Dicken stood silent for a moment, and then tiptoed toward the creature. His gentle treads squeaked the floor in soft, barely audible moves. In truth Dicken mustered all his courage, but he had a limit, thus hesitated longer than necessary.
Without warning, the cockroach leapt off the floor, and flew toward Dicken like a guided missile. Both he and Charlotte froze in shock. The bug landed on Charlotte’s shoulder and then scuttered into her shirt-uniform and down her cleavage.
She screamed.
Now as if her life was in danger, she slammed her hands against her breasts and belly, twirling like a ballerina in fright, to get that bug off her skin. She hurried out the classroom.
Dicken had no better luck.
He