Summary: Charlotte's life was never as easy as most. It started off when her mother, a lady of society, ran away with her father, a builder. Never being accepted by the upper-class never mattered to Charlotte; she was happy on her little street with her family and friends. But after her mother dies when she is ten and her father is sent to a sanatorium for consumption when she turns seventeen, she is sent to live with her aunt and uncle, her mother's family. It is to be only a temporary stay with these strangers she calls family, but a turn for the worst makes it longer than she could have imagined.

With everything seeming so strange and new to Charlotte, she is glad to have her cousin Phillip to guide her along. Soon she meets the dashing Mr James Ashmore and falls head-over-fashionable-heels for the young man. But what about Harry, her childhood friend she was sure she would marry? She finds her first friend in Emma, her trusting maid, her second in Jane, a girl her aunt disapproves of, and her third in Sir Thomas, her uncle's elderly father.

With the help of her cousin and friends, Charlotte finds her way through balls, jealousy, lies, dark secrets and scandals.

30 August 1871

The little girl stood in the doorway watching the sight in front of her with fear. They had sent her outside to play with Harry, but she had left after he had refused to tell her what was going on with her mother. The woman in question was lying on the bed in the middle of the room screaming and crying. Her pretty face was red and covered with sweat. Her long blonde hair was soaked and her eyes shut tight.

The girl's father sat on a stool next to the bed holding the woman's hand and murmuring to her. The old midwife was in between the woman's legs with a grieve expression on her wrinkled face. Charles leaned in close to his wife who whispered in his ear. He turned towards the door and his eyes met his daughter's. He let go of his wife's hand and walked towards the door.

"This isn't the place for you, sweetheart." He bent down and kissed her on the forehead before closing the bedroom door.

The little girl sat in the hallway, her small hands over her ears. She could still hear her mother's screams and it sent a chill down her spine. She sat there for more than two hours before anybody came out of the room.

"Yer parents want ye in there," the midwife said in her gruff voice.

The girl got up and walked into her parents' small bedroom. Her mother was asleep on the bed and her father sat next to her, a small bundle in his arms.

"Charlotte," he said to the little girl, not looking up from the bundle. "This is your brother Douglas."

Charlotte walked over to her father and looked down at the baby. His face was red and his head was round with dark fuzz on top. "He's small."

Charles laughed softly. "That he is." He carefully passed the baby to Charlotte who was now seated on the small stool. She traced his little features gently, already in love with the little boy.

But their joy didn't last long. The mother, as the midwife said that night, wasn't strong enough and the baby was born early. They died within an hour of each other.

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