WANDERERS

By

Syeda Kulsoom Murad

Daastan Publishing 2023

First Published in Pakistan by Daastan PVT LTD

House # A-41, Madni Street, Lala Rukh, Wah Cantt, Punjab 47040

www.daastan.com

www.meraqissa.com

Text copyrights © Syeda Kulsoom Murad

Book Design copyright © Ariba Choudhary

Edited by: Nayyab Mushtaq

The moral rights of the writer, illustrator and editor have been asserted.

All rights reserved

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-969-696-885-6

To my loving papa.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Dear Readers,

I am both honoured and humbled to present to you this work of fiction, a world born of imagination and inspired by the boundless realms of human experience. As you embark on this literary journey, I feel compelled to share a few words that have been close to my heart throughout the creation of this novel.

Writing, for me, is a labour of love and a testament to the enduring power of storytelling. In these pages, you will find characters whose lives have been carefully woven together, their joys and sorrows etched onto the canvas of their existence. While the story may be fictional, the emotions and struggles these characters face resonate with the shared human experience that binds us all.

It is my hope that this narrative serves as a mirror reflecting not only the characters’ journeys but also your own. May you find moments of connection, empathy, and insight within these pages. Fiction has a unique ability to transport us to different times and places, expose us to diverse perspectives, and challenge our preconceptions. My greatest aspiration is that this novel accomplishes just that, provoking thought and sparking conversations about the complexities of life.

Throughout the writing process, I have drawn inspiration from the rich tapestry of literature that has come before me. I am indebted to the countless authors who have illuminated the path for storytellers like myself. I stand on their shoulders, hoping to contribute, in some small way, to the world of literature that has enriched my life.

I would also like to express my gratitude to my family and loved ones who have supported me on this creative journey. Their encouragement has been a constant source of motivation. Without them, these words would remain mere thoughts, unspoken and unheard.

Thank you for choosing to accompany me on this adventure. I hope you find solace, inspiration, and wonder within these pages.

With deepest appreciation,

Syeda Kulsoom Murad

ABSTRACT

Set in the Northern suburbs of England in the late 1800s, Wanderers charts the Dales’ family’s descent from pride to shame. The family returns to their native town, Norburry where a young romance births between Evan Dale and Charlotte Wilfred. Although, it is not long before the Reeves return to Dale’s life. The two families- the Reeves’ and Dales’ hold dark secrets which follow and fracture multiple lives as events take on a strange and melodramatic turn. Secrets unfold themselves to Charlotte leaving her soul, half cursed and half blessed with love. The story laments the failure of idealism on a young female’s part. It reflects the dilemma of wickedness crushing today’s world by highlighting the immoralities creeping into the late 1800s society similar to today’s society as the world progressed then and even progresses now towards modernity. 

PHASE I

1

The Enchantress

Every element yawned and stretched sluggishly after the long torpidity during the winters. The sun glistened upon the lazy hills and the forest bringing forth, once again, life. Birds twittered, trees greened themselves hence the conjuration of spring was casted over the panoramic little town, Norburry.

The curvy hills encircling the town were the immutable proof of its solidity and the profuse forest, its mistress. It was a town unlike any other for it had the power to bewitch anyone who had once set foot in it. The hills of Norburry manifested eminence but the forest had subtlety. It beheld secrets and only a true heart could unfold its tale. Possessor of such a heart was the eristic native – Charlotte Wilfred. An orphaned young maiden, twenty years of age who lived over at the Brighton Park with her grandparents. 

25^th March 1866- The moon shone brightly and a mild wind was blowing.  James Wilfred, a young man of twenty and three who had just returned from the army, arrived at the dance in a grey suit with his companions. The room was filled with cheerful women, dressed in their entire extravaganza from head to toe. The band played an upbeat piece of music and within the next few minutes all James’ acquaintances had found dance partners. James stood in a corner watching the men swirling and lifting merry young women with the beat of the song. In all the helter-skelter his electric blue eyes fell upon a girl standing alone, nervously in the other corner; shyly looking down to the floor, as if she wasn’t aware that she seemed to be the center of the universe. It seemed as though planets, stars, and men revolved around her religiously. The maiden made eye contact from across the room and blushed. There was something about her smile; as if it were a promise. As if she had vowed to be his forever in just one curve of lips. That maiden was Elizabeth Vye.

 What started out as summer love turned into something eternal. Elizabeth and James Wilfred got married on 15^th August 1866 at the Norburry church. The couple settled in London soon after their betrothal and James took up on a reasonable trade business. After a year and a half, Elizabeth Wilfred brought an enthralling little baby girl into the world, named Charlotte. Unfortunately enough, Elizabeth couldn’t survive and lost her life while giving birth to Charlotte. With his wife’s death, James lost his reason for life. Earth shattered from beneath his feet when his beloved betroth breathed her last breath. Elizabeth left a part of her in the face of Charlotte but even that couldn’t bring James back to living life wholeheartedly. Soon afterwards he fell gravely ill.

The loss of his loved Lizzy was too much to bear and gradually his illness took over his life and he too, passed away leaving his one year old infant under the care of his parents. Loss of both the progenitors was a severe distress to Charlotte’s life, however, her guardians loved her unequivocally.

***

Morning sun shone lustrously when Charlotte having a spring in her step entered through the main door into the dining room. 

“Aren’t you a vision to behold, my darling granddaughter!” Exclaimed Mr. Wilfred entering right behind her.

“Oh Grandfather, why I wouldn’t be! I wrote a poem about the most beautiful scene of the sky I was fortunate enough to see in the forest today.”

“Charlotte dear,” interrupted Mrs. Wilfred concernedly as her brows rushed to join one another with distress, “I have asked you many a times not to go into the forest so early in the morning; my heart remains uneasy until you return home safely.”

“Oh Grandmother, you need not worry. I recognize Norburry like the back of my hand.”

“Let her be,” said Mr. Wilfred coolly, “My dear, you worry too much.”

Mrs. Wilfred shook her head in worry and made no remark while Charlotte nodded with a smile and ascended upstairs to her bedroom to put away the contents in her hands, a writing notepad and a pen.

As she entered the room, her black robe glided off of her, revealing the hidden enchantress. Her skin was gold beige. Smooth and sheeny. She was her own sun, who radiated light and warmth. In their entire glow, her cheeks were soft and pink as if a rose had just brushed itself across them. Her ash brown hair had a wave to it and fell next to her heart-shaped face down to her bosom and finally culminated at her curvy waist. She was attractive to the point of being carnal yet subtle. Her eyes, brown and long lashed they were. Bright and welcoming but just like the forest they beheld depth; her long lashes portrayed the night at the forest which hides away its profundity.

***

Charlotte descended to the dining room where her grandparents were seated at the breakfast table and conversing.

“Oh yes, they’re surely returning,” said Mr. Wilfred who had heard from his butler.

“Who is returning, Grandfather?” Asked Charlotte pulling out a chair at the breakfast table.

“The Dales.” Answered he, buttering his toast.

“The Dales? I’ve never heard of them. Did they live here in Norburry?”

“Yes dear, over at the Lady’s mansion.” Mrs. Wilfred said while pouring herself a cup of tea.

“I’ve heard from Thomas, their servants are to arrive in a day or two to make the arrangements for the family.” Informed Mr. Wilfred.

“Where are they coming back from?”

“London,” after taking a sip of his tea Mr. Wilfred continued, “After the unfortunate passing of Mr. Dale, they decided to move back here. Mr. Dale was an old acquaintance of your father dear, when he lived at Norburry.”

“Oh dear, how did he die?” Asked Charlotte concernedly putting back her buttered toast into the plate.

“They say his heart gave out.”

Charlotte resumed her breakfast with a sigh.

“They had a son about your age, Charlotte,” remembered Mrs. Wilfred, “A year or two older than you, I recall. You two were quite hitting off as friends, when you were about three years old, until one day when he pulled on one of your braids and oh my dear did you cry!” laughed Mrs. Wilfred nostalgically.

“Well, that sounds quite ungentlemanly.”

“Oh dear, that was just a roguery when you two were children. I’m sure he’d be quite a gentleman now.”

“Oh that he must be!” Ensured Mr. Wilfred, “I’ve heard he’s in the diamond business.”

“Oh what a fortune he must make!”

“According to my assumptions, about fifty thousand a year.”

 “But his mother,” recalled Mrs. Wilfred after collecting her excitement at the discovery, “Lady Ruth I recollect, was rather snobbery. She didn’t quite get along with anyone. As I remember, she was proud and always looked down her nose. I found her a very difficult woman to be acquainted with, unlike Mr. Dale of course.”

“Mr. Dale was a man with the happiest of manners!” Said Mr. Wilfred in a rather loud voice. “He was so full of life and it was truly a pity for him to be married to a woman of such proud manners.”

Both the elder ones continued conversing about the Dales and the old days which Charlotte paid no attention to anymore as this reminiscence had built up somewhat of negative image of the Dales in her mind. All she wished for was never having to meet any of them for as long as they stayed.

2

The Encounter

Love seems to be the most fashionable statement that anyone can make in any era ever since the world has come into existence. Some say it’s a wee feeling young bloods entertain themselves with, while some call it a magic potion which holds the capacity to make men immortal only if they practice it with a certain ardor and vehemence.

Morning sun peeked from in between the pointy hills. The hue of the welkin transposed with every stretch and curve of the gold ball. From slight beryl to pink and then azure the wild blue yonder unfolded and draped indolently until the opulent sun positioned itself into its celestial grandeur. The sunshine invaded its darling’s room from in between the drapes. The rays caressed Charlotte’s cheeks and gently osculated her full, red lips. The warm embrace of the sun made her gold skin elicit light that canoodled with the sun’s radiance. Alas! This adoration was not to last and the shrill voice of the chattering birds entered her room and disrupted the sun’s morning romance. 

However, the sun was not the only one who was vexed at the cheering presenters of the forenoon. Charlotte, who was irked because of the noise, see-sawed in her bed trying to retain her sleep. She shut her eyes tighter to curtain off the light and rolled from left to right and back from right to left with her face buried under the feathered pillow. Until finally she had to give in and let the squeaking creatures win the battle. Waking up, her dense portiere of lashes concealed her vivid eyes halfway thus, prompting the sun to mistake it for an eclipse.

The wind was aromatic from the freshly bloomed flowers and the sublime hills of Norburry added to the scenic beauty from afar when Charlotte began her morning stroll. They seemed like an elevated form of exquisiteness and their untrodden paths were a scrupulous promise of nature; it appeared like a canvas painted by the most exhaustive of hands. Whirling a thin willow wand, which she had found near the stream, between her index finger and thumb Charlotte covered half of her trip but soon her stroll came to an abrupt halt when Mrs. Wilfred’s admonition triggered her anxiety and the willow wand fell from in between her fingers. She searched around for some resting place and a green patch near the rocky path became her respite. Although this sudden remembrance caused anxiety, she carried on with her excursion.

On reaching the forest, Charlotte marched towards her most loved spot. It was a chunk of land where the grass was the greenest and mellow. Bushes of wild berries circumambulated the grove which embellished the enticing woods. She sat down on the mellow grass, however, apparently she wasn’t the only one admiring the panorama for it was soon revealed that a gentleman riding a black horse was leisurely passing through the forest. The horse gallantly approached the spot where Charlotte was seated in utter serenity.

The sound of the horse’s hooves fell into the maiden’s ears like that of thunder. A restless wave of distress passed down her nerve causing every fidgety thought to come rushing back into her mind. The apprehensive girl mistook the sound for some viscous hound and instantly sprang up from the grass to escape. The sound of the roaring hooves increased by each second making Charlotte even more anxious. Her heart hastened and leapt into her mouth. She ran in a neurotic gaiety, losing control of her own steps, her foot twisted and she tripped over a log.

A loud shriek was heard in every corner of the forest as Charlotte collapsed to the ground. Her writing notepad unfolded a few pages and fell a few steps from her. Petrified from fear, she couldn’t gather the strength to escape and remained trapped in pain. The gentleman on hearing the screeching scream, immediately charged towards its source. Getting off of his carrier he saw someone agonizing in pain for Charlotte’s face was covered by the cap of her cloak and all the gentleman could see was her delicately slim bare hand with her glove in the other at her leather boots and her hair falling out of the cap as she bent to hold onto her foot.

“Are you alright, miss?” Inquired the gentleman in a strong, husky voice.

His voice startled Charlotte as she hadn’t noticed his presence nearby. She took off the cap of her cloak as she turned to face him. The cap fell and revealed grace; a panic-stricken grace.

Her eyes were narrowed in, causing her forehead to wrinkle and her cheeks had gone pale. Her slightly parted lips quivered and wanted to shout out for help but didn’t have the strength to do so; the heavy breathing of her heart had made them its captive. Her flustered brown eyes portrayed more profundity than the forest. It seemed as if their glow and warmth peeked from their hiding spot and sobbed and sniveled for aid. Nevertheless, her eyes were still so captivating that they made the gentleman their inmate in just one look.

The maiden appeared like a magnificent meld of belle and fear.

This amalgam was powerful enough to raise inclination in the gentleman’s heart and he hurried towards the girl to help.

“Have you fallen?” Asked the gentleman concernedly as he crouched down next to her. 

“Yes, I was running and tripped over a log.”

“Why were you running, miss?” Said he in an alarmed voice.

“I heard a hound coming this way. Oh, my grandmother always warned me about them, she was right, I should’ve listened to her.”

“A hound?” The gentleman was startled at her childish thought and tried to control his laughter. “I think you mistook Philippe for a hound, miss. I assure you hounds are nowhere to be found in this part of the woods since it’s quite close to the town.”

“Philippe?”

“Philippe,” pointed the gentleman at the horse, “my horse.” The poor thing neighed in defence.

“I thought…aah!” The girl cried out in pain.

“Oh, you’re badly hurt miss! May I look?”

Charlotte, though was reluctant, unzipped her boot and the gentleman tenderly slid it off. Her curvaceous fair foot was embellished with stockings. So soft was the touch of her foot that the gentleman was tempted to rub his thumb along its curve; but seeing the nervousness on the girl’s face refrained himself from acting upon his wishes. He examined the foot thoroughly and concluded that the joint of her ankle had slid out of its place.

“You have sprained your ankle. It has fallen a little out of its place but do not worry, I can jerk it back in. My father has taught me the trick.”

“A little out of its place? What do you mean?” Said Charlotte loudly in an overwrought with her eyes wide open. Her face flushed with agitation and worsened her position.

“Relax.” Said the gentleman. His voice was appeasing as he reached out for her hand and caressed her soft skin to calm her down.

The touch of his fingers was warm and gentle and for some unknown reason, she did not feel like it was foreign to her. His compassionate stroke of fingers normalized her breathing and poised her state of mind. The gentleman couldn’t help but stare at Charlotte. He looked at her as if he had never seen a face more ravishing than hers; as if he wanted to make her his own in just one stare. His eyes kept exploring every inch of her face and made her blush.

Charlotte, who had never experienced such a sensation before as she did then, felt a warm and excited infatuation in her heart that even made her forget about the severe pain she suffered before. So shy was her nature that her eyes did not raise to meet those of his yet her lips dared part to exhale a muted breath. Although she was excited by these fresh perceptions, fear had not left her alone yet. His continuous stare made her uncomfortable and she moved her hand out of his grip which he mannerly followed.

“Are you alright?” Whispered the gentleman in a low soft tone.

Charlotte nodded.

“Okay. I’m going to jerk your ankle back into its place now. Are you ready?”

The girl failed to control her nervous breathing and the gentleman continued, “Why don’t you count till three and I will jerk it back in at three. Can you count miss?”

These last words crushed Charlotte’s pride and washed away all the affectionate feelings that she had felt for him a minute ago; her cheeks flushed with rage and her eyes narrowed in with anger.

“What do you mean? Of course, I can count!” Said the agitated girl. “Do I appear to be uneducated to you?” 

“I’m sorry miss, I meant no offence.” Chuckled the gentleman quietly.

Women will be women, he thought to himself. Even in the most painful of states, all they care about is what they seem like.

“Should I do it now?” he asked.

“One,” Charlotte rolled her eyes and started counting.

“…two,” screamed the girl in pain as the gentleman jerked her ankle back into place forcefully as she counted two.

“You misspoke sir! You said you would do it at three. How improper are your manners!”

“You would have screamed anyway,” replied he as he secretly hid his smirk, “Besides, doing it at three would have made you nervous and so increased the pain.”

Charlotte being irritated by the gentleman wanted him out of her sight yet thanked him mannerly. The gentleman picked up her boot and helped her stand up.

“Would you please pick up my writing notepad for me?” requested Charlotte.

“You write?” The gentleman was surprised at this discovery and his eyes widened proving his state of mind.

“Yes, I write.” Replied Charlotte with pride and the gentleman chuckled as he picked up the notepad.

Charlotte tried to walk but the pain had not yet departed from her ankle making her walk back to Brighton Park impossible.

“I will take you to your home. Come, put your arm around my shoulder and I will lift you up to the horseback.”

She hesitated to ride with a stranger momentarily but then decided to trust him since he had helped her so kindly. Charlotte did as he advised and he comfortably picked her up. He secured his foot into the saddle and gracefully lifted himself upwards to position Charlotte at the horse. She secured her place carefully with both her legs falling to one side with her boot and notepad in her hand. She held him tightly with her free hand, as he climbed before her, to prevent falling.

Her anger had vanished now and she started examining her savior discretely.

The gentleman was of twenty and three and had a well built, strong physique. He was tall and had broad shoulders. A dark soft beard crept along his jaw line, which complemented his dusky complexion perfectly. He had red thin lips that curved into the most smoldering of smiles and his dark blue eyes glowed. So welcoming and attractive were his eyes that it seemed they emanate joy and mischief.

“Where do you live?” Charlotte’s discrete activity was interrupted by the husky voice of the gentleman that startled her.

“At the Brighton Park.” Replied she.

Her bewitching face captivated his attention again.

“What’s your name, miss?” Inquired the gentleman passionately.

“Charlotte.”

The way her sharply curvaceous lips ascended and descended while saying the name enraptured him. He smiled his smoldering smile and Charlotte’s curled lashes dropped shyly. So sedated were both by each other’s presence that Charlotte forgot to inquire his name and he failed to remember to introduce himself. They rode in a slow pace and in silence for the rest of their journey. On reaching the Brighton Park, the gentleman helped her get off the horse and walked her to the door. As soon as Mrs. Wilfred set eyes on her beloved granddaughter in such a miserly state, her eyes filled with tears and her mind was panic-stricken.

“Charlotte what has happened to you? Oh my dear, you’re injured! How? Oh my dear Lord!” Mrs. Wilfred inquired the whole case without a pause with her tears choking her. Mr. Wilfred heard her cries and hurried to the parlour and was equally distressed to see Charlotte in such a state. He thanked the gentleman who had brought her home safely and shook his hand briefly before he rushed to aid Charlotte to her room. Both the guardians, so worried for their dear Lottie, forgot to ask the gentleman to stay for tea and he left in silence.

3

Disclosure of the Obscure