Chapter I

The Invite

LOWER YOUR HEAD. Never meet their eyes. Walk with grace. Don't make your footsteps heavy. Speak softly. Speak only with their permission. Never try to blend in. Listen only to your heart.

Those were the rules Helena Bree Hawthorne's parents established in the Hawthorne household before she could even speak, or walk. She grew up memorising these words in her head, repeating them over and over again until her body couldn't do anything but to listen and follow. Protesting was out of the question, and rebellion would result into something heavier than her father's harsh scolding.

All her life, she had never made a decision of her own. Her childhood was fairly well, but a memory of her doing whatever she wanted to do as a child does not exist. She was guarded by her parents, their hawk-like eyes glued to her every movement. When she was young, she thought it was suffocating and it irritated her to bits.

But when she discovered London, she finally understood why. The rules, the strictness, and the limitations-they all did it to protect her.

Picking up her hairbrush laying on top of her mahogany desk, Helena eyed her reflection in the mirror, showing signs of her newly awakened figure: the drowsy, golden eyes, the frizz in her hair sticking out, and the blank expression on her face. She lifted up the hairbrush and began styling her brown hair into her usual low bun.

The sun had just risen, but the city was already loud and voices of all ranges can be heard from her open window. At first, she was greatly bothered by it, but spending years in the wretched streets helped her ears get used to it.

When they moved out of Manchester to reside in London for a better opportunity of sustaining the Hawthorne family clinic business, their situation became even more unbearable. Counts and Marquess would offer them looks of disdain, or not look their way at all. The higher ups would refuse to talk with her father or take him as their doctor. She felt as if her family's social rank got lower and became heavily frowned upon on.

And by the time she turned sixteen, Helena learned that the people of London will only accept you in their eyes if your pockets are loaded with grand, if you're an aristocrat, or if you're somewhat connected with the government.

Thus, the rules were even more repeated by her parents. It didn't help that her ever so demanding grandmother also added her own requests to the mix.

Ripening into a young lady in the bustling streets of England's capital shaped her into what she is today. No longer was she the optimistic, curious little girl back when she was in Manchester. Her innocence and every bit of her dreams were taken away from her in such an unexpected manner, that she didn't even got the chance to react anymore.

Tightening the emerald green, silk ribbon she used to tie her hair, Helena proceeded to wear a crisp and ironed cotton white blouse with bell sleeves, and attached a green ribbon brooch pin that was previously owned by her mother between the collar of the blouse, its shade similar to her hair tie. She slipped on her pleated skirt that reached her ankles, some white gloves to cover her hands, and then wore her black boots for shoes.

Looking back at the mirror, she remembered her grandmother's words: she was indeed plain and simple looking, to the point that no man would desire to take her hand in marriage. Not that she wanted to marry. It was never in her plans to settle down and bear children of her own.

Instead, it was her older sister's responsibility-Annelise Kate Hawthorne was the perfect woman to become a mother. She's graceful, kinder, gentle and much more beautiful.

Clenching her fists, she shook off her final thoughts before grabbing her round, black rimmed glasses and her teal shawl, exiting her bedroom and walking towards her sister's. Since the house was quiet, she guessed that her family was still asleep on their beds.

Nevertheless, Helena knocked gently on her sister's door and opened it carefully. Expecting a sleeping Annelise, she was surprised when she saw her sister sitting upright on her bed while facing the window. She turned to her once she stepped inside the room.

"Good morning, Helena." Annelise greeted her, a beautiful smile forming on her lips.

She smiled back. "Good morning. It's quite early for you to be awake." Stepping forward, she proceeded to sit down on the empty space on her sister's bed. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Just egg on a toast would be nice. And tea." Annelise answered a moment after.

Helena nodded. "Okay. I'll get it done right away."

Her older sister stared at her for a few seconds, then she chuckled lightly. "If only I am not bedridden then I would help you with the chores."

She stiffened, the familiar feeling of her heart twisting in pain suddenly surfacing. Helena frowned and placed a hand on top of hers in reassurance. "Do not say that. For the last time, it is not your fault."

"But it is, is it not? And it's quite pathetic. I am the older one, I should hold the heaviest responsibility; and not you, Helena."

It started exactly three years ago. Helena and her sister both dreamed big of travelling overseas to find handsome opportunities for them; so they did everything they can-from working in a library at daytime, selling their grandmother's blueberry muffins in the afternoon, and helping orphanages when evening comes. They quite earned a fairly large sum...until Annelise collapsed out of nowhere, and the money was then used for medication.

And so her older sister's treatment was prioritized; she can no longer move freely like she used to, since all the doctors they could find said that her sickness was something new and it cannot be cured just yet. Even her own father said so. Day by day, Annelise's silky red hair became lifeless, her skin turned pale and her rosy cheeks hollow. She was deteriorating, they said.

But Helena didn't listen. She thought it was possible to get her sister cured. She just have to save money to travel to the States, and maybe she can find hope in there. Even if it means throwing away her dreams and herself in the process, she will do it and wait for Annelise to get better, so they can dream again together soon.

Thinking of it, she knew. She just knew it was possible.

Yet London's people and London itself are cruel. She will have to cross a thousand knives and cut a huge boulder in half before she could get there.

"You will be cured soon, dear sister. And when that day comes, I shall pass my responsibilities to you. Like you want." Helena said, trying to lighten up the mood. Annelise's dull olive eyes seemed to brighten up a bit, and she let out a small laugh.

"Alright. Can you tell me where you are off to this morning?" She asked, body fully facing her. Helena smiled and tilted her head.

"To the library. I finished reading the books I borrowed the other day. They were quite lovely-a good read." She explained, sounding hopeful. "Father was right. The books can help me add to my knowledge."

Annelise huffed playfully. "You are the only woman I know who enjoys reading a book about the human body."

This time, Helena was the one who laughed. Slipping on her glasses, she stood from her sister's bed. "I best be going. The library can get crowded in the late morning, and I am trying to avoid that."

Her older sister nodded. "Then off you go."

"But not before I get you your breakfast."

"Oh. Right."

As she strolled down the bustling streets of her hometown, the usual noblemen and women chattering together passed her side every now and then. No one cared to acknowledge her, and she did the same, eyes focused on the road ahead of her. Carefully making sure to steer away from the aristocrats, she kept herself on one side, for bumping into them will result into a grave situation. She tipped her green hat even lower, and walked even gentler.

The library she often visited isn't that grand nor huge. Fortunately, its facility allowed middle class people and noblemen alike. But the nobles were rarely seen leafing through the library's bookshelves, since the books were mostly old and second-hands, so they opted for the fancier library which is on the other side of the street.

Helena stopped in front of the familiar oak door, the antique wood already having marks due to its old age. She gripped the knob and opened it as delicately as she can. The bell rang, its dulcet tune echoing throughout the building. The library owner and manager, an old man in his late fifties, perked up and smiled once he caught sight of her.

"Good morning, Miss Hawthorne!" He said, approaching her while carrying a stack of newly delivered books. Small brown packages were scattered in his worktable, some were open and some waiting to be unpacked. "Why, you're here again!"

She straightened her skirt and responded just as joyfully, "Good morning, Mister Baker. I cannot help myself. I finished reading the books yesterday."

"You are truly a peculiar woman. But in a good way, of course. Us bookworms are often belittled, said that we're too immersed in words and not in deed. I beg to differ!" He stated, slipping the books in the antique shelves. Helena chuckled and pulled out the books she borrowed from her medicine bag.

"I am returning these, Mister Baker. Can I ask for more books like them? Preferably if they are about surgery...or the skeletal system. Or the human heart." She listed on, getting unconsciously excited. Mister Baker laughed.

"Yes, yes! They are at the back shelves, on the left side. Take as many as you want." He said.

After thanking the library owner, Helena then went to the very back of the library, where the back shelves are located. Scanning the hundred books lined up with a gloved finger, she buried herself in her own world and put all her attention on them. Her eyes moved frantically from one spine to another, reading the titles one by one. If she could, she will borrow all of the medical books she could find, but that will require an additional fee.

She took the one entitled A Handbook for the Medical Profession, and flipped to its first page. Her eyes lit up and eagerly read the words inked on the paper. It was written by an American author, thus it was possible the book had some kind of information regarding her sister's condition.

A ringing sound suddenly reached her ears: the bell of the library's entrance. She heard Mister Baker shuffle hastily to greet his new guests. Helena paid them no mind and continued on with her reading.

"Lord Moriarty! And Mister William, of course," His booming voice filled the room. The men who entered laughed and greeted him back.

"Mister Baker." Deep and clear, that was how the stranger's voice sounded like. It made Helena turn around slightly, peeking the commotion going on. Once she observed the men, her grip on the book tightened and her heart sank. She quickly looked away, lips pursed, and feeling uneasy.

They were noblemen, dressed in expensive suits made of the finest fabric in London. Their top hats even appeared to be costly, and they held themselves with grace. The air around them bears superiority, their backs straight and their stares unwavering. For Helena, they were not to be negotiated with, and her mind told her she must leave immediately. She took a couple of medical books and headed straight for Mister Baker.

"The library is doing fine, there was a delivery of books again this morning." Mister Baker declared, speaking to the man. "There might be a chance my business will survive."

"That is good news. We are delightful to hear that." Another one of the men spoke. She was closer to them this time, and she could finally make out their faces. The other had fine brown hair, his eyes the brightest green she had ever seen. She assumed he was older. And although he looked quite warm and kind, there was something to him that Helena couldn't pinpoint.

But the one beside him, the blonde one-just by looking at him, she knew deep in her heart; he is different, and he is definitely a man she had to avoid. His ruby red eyes (quite the strange color, might she say, and it added more to her suspicion) sparkled strangely, and the small smile on his lips was sincere yet unnerving and incomplete. She cannot read him at all. He is an open book and a closed one at the same time.

No matter who they are, she learned not to pay

No matter who they are, she learned not to pay nobles attention; not that they would appreciate it. They might be extremely handsome, but she knows deep down, behind the pleasant facade, their hearts are tinted with black. Inside her mind, she discarded their existence and instead hugged the books to her chest, pretending they aren't there. She pushed up her glasses to distract herself from the loud pounding of her heart.

Mister Baker seemed to notice her presence and turned to her. "Ah, Miss Hawthorne! Forgive me, I didn't know you were finished."

"It's alright, I do not mind at all. I would be borrowing these books." Helena grabbed her library card from her bag, aware of the pair of eyes following her movements. It felt strange, but since she was used to her parents doing the same to her back then, she simply ignored it. "Here."

"How many times should I tell you? The card is not needed. It's just the usual, dear. Sign your name in the notebook."

She offered him a smile. "Thank you, Mister Baker." Taking the old, worn notebook he always keeps on top of his worktable, she then opened it and searched for the titles of the books she would be taking with her. Helena uncapped her own calligraphy pen and dipped it in ink.

But her hand froze into place. She was about to sign her name, when she saw a familiar signature above the space she would write into. The signature was a fancy scribble, and many times she tried to see a name in it, but failed. All she knows is that this stranger had borrowed the books before her.

If she could meet them, Helena was certain they will get along well.

"The usual, I see. Another set of medical books." Mister Baker broke off her string of thoughts. "Heart Disease. And Minor Surgery. They sound handful."

"They are." She agreed, laughing, signing her name after the mystery man. Finding out who they are was for another time.

"Well, I'm sure you will still be enjoying them. Have fun reading, Miss Hawthorne." He said, tying up the thick books for her using a leather book strap and gave them to her. She hummed and took it from him.

Without turning back, Helena left the library, leaving the two noblemen alone with Mister Baker.

Green eyes followed the unfamiliar woman, only glancing away once she closed the door behind her.

"I take it she is a loyal customer, Mister Baker." He remarked, neither interested nor unconcerned. The library owner smiled at the mention of the woman.

"Yes, she is. Miss Hawthorne is a lovely woman. But she is a private person. I barely know her." He explained.

That brought an enigmatic smile to Albert's lips. William remained indifferent, walking away to skim the books in the bookshelves.

"I'm back." Helena called, stepping inside their small home. Her father was already at the dining table, sipping piping, hot tea and the latest newspaper in his hands. He smiled at her as a greeting, settling down the paper on top of the table.

"Helena," He acknowledged, "Went to the library again, I assume?"

"Yes, father. I happen to find one of your recommendations." She beamed, pulling one of the wooden chairs and sat down beside him.

He made an impressed sound. "Which one of them?"

About to open her medicine bag to show the books, another familiar figure entered the kitchens. A frown graced her grandmother's features, making her look older than she was. With a cane, she walked closer and ranted, "There you go again with the medical nonsense. Professions are not for women. You are ought to be married off, preferably if the man is wealthy enough to save us from wilting in this household."

Helena ignored the usual lecture. "Good morning, grandmother."

"Your sister is much more suitable to be a wife, but there she is, in bed all day doing nothing. She no longer has purpose for us. It's now your responsibility to save this family, Helena."

"Please don't talk about Annelise like that." She retorted back, unable to regain her composure. "She will be cured, and I will be the one to do so."

"Don't you think it's about time to cease your fantasy"

"Now that you two are here, I have something important to announce." Her father interrupted loudly, suddenly whipping out a cream colored envelope right out from his pocket. Now that Helena being in a better mood than usual. She lowered her head and waited for what he has to say.

"What is it now?" Her grandmother asked irritatingly. He smiled and opened the enveloped, and pulled out a folded paper. The paper used for the letter appeared to be some expensive material, and Helena frowned in anticipation. It was painfully obvious where the letter came from.

"Lord Hughes invited me to a cruise aboard the Noahtic, as a thank you for restoring his wife's condition."

She and her grandmother responded at the same time.

"The humongous ship this town has been talking about?"

"Tell him no."

Her father raised his eyebrows, growing confused. He tended to Helena's concerns first. "Why not, dear?"

She sucked in a breath, a little surprised. "Well...I. It's because we simply don't belong there. There will be aristocrats aboard, father. Even if we do attend, whatever shall we do? Stand and stare as they dine on their expensively cut meats?"

"Helena, it is not like that. Commoners are invited too. It's safe to say that everything will be well even if we aboard the ship." He argued back gently, a hint of persuasion in his voice. "And Lord Hughes said I can bring one person along. I want you to accompany me."

"You must definitely go. Perhaps a man will catch your eye there." Her grandmother added.

"My eye?" Helena said in disbelief. "Do not assume I will step my foot into that ship."

Her father grimaced at her hostility. "Please think about it, dear." She stood up, her chair making an unpleasant squeaking sound as it dragged against the floor.

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she uttered, "Yes. After I read my books."

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about healing your bedridden sister," Her grandmother started again, "It has been three years, turning four this month."

"Time does not measure impossibility." Helena pressed, turning her back towards them. "If it takes decades to bring Annelise back to normal, then I shall study for decades too."

Making her way back to her own bedroom, she passed by her older sister's room while striding in the hallways. She stopped for a moment, wondering if Annelise heard their conversation. Helena sighed quietly in frustration. She hoped not. It would definitely make her more insecure than she already was.

Helena set down the books on her own little desk, mind filled with what could have been. Dreams of sailing the seven seas, the smell of the ocean reaching her nose while her loose, brown waves fly around her head. She and Annelise would wear simple gowns, the ones that wouldn't require a crinoline skirt underneath, and they would stare at the sunset and the sky would be theirs. And if destiny allows it, she would buy a lovely house that includes a large garden for her father to tend to.

Birds landed on her windowsill, their tweeting snapping Helena back to reality. The books she borrowed were the first things that caught her eyes, and she finds herself sighing again.

But she cannot deny it reading the thick, medical books sounded much more fun than boarding a ship with selfish noblemen.