https://bywitandwhitby.com/ Thu, 16 Apr 2026 11:41:14 +0000 MyBB https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1070 Sun, 09 Nov 2025 11:12:55 +0000 Zechariah Meijer]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1070 sentencing declaring Sonia his wife had dried (and not a second after). Invested much of the fluid assets, and made certain all the insurance was up to date. He still remembered how surreal it felt to be working with that many digits.

For the sake of their marriage, Zechariah had decided to spend the High Holy Days with his family in Bohemia (much to their bafflement – why did he get married and not bring the new family!). After that, he had taken his sweet time returning back to Whitby and York (but especially Whitby). Absence made the heart grow fonder, and Zechariah was truly aiming for unimaginable fondness!

It still felt bizarre to visit his sons at a brothel of all places, but he had just purchased a real home for them (a home where Simon had never been …) on their shore. Considering the insane amounts of money that den of sin raked in – it would pay itself off before they knew it!

His brow crinkled when he smelled … something burnt, as he turned the corner. His head lifted, eyes landing where the Diamond Pony stood – or should have stood. Was. Zechariah's pace had quickened before he realized it, and suddenly he was running to the building that had changed his entire life.

“Esau! Jacob!”

Damn it! He knew he should have chosen better names!

“Sonia?!”

It was not at the Diamond Pony that the story would unfold, but the constable's …]]> sentencing declaring Sonia his wife had dried (and not a second after). Invested much of the fluid assets, and made certain all the insurance was up to date. He still remembered how surreal it felt to be working with that many digits.

For the sake of their marriage, Zechariah had decided to spend the High Holy Days with his family in Bohemia (much to their bafflement – why did he get married and not bring the new family!). After that, he had taken his sweet time returning back to Whitby and York (but especially Whitby). Absence made the heart grow fonder, and Zechariah was truly aiming for unimaginable fondness!

It still felt bizarre to visit his sons at a brothel of all places, but he had just purchased a real home for them (a home where Simon had never been …) on their shore. Considering the insane amounts of money that den of sin raked in – it would pay itself off before they knew it!

His brow crinkled when he smelled … something burnt, as he turned the corner. His head lifted, eyes landing where the Diamond Pony stood – or should have stood. Was. Zechariah's pace had quickened before he realized it, and suddenly he was running to the building that had changed his entire life.

“Esau! Jacob!”

Damn it! He knew he should have chosen better names!

“Sonia?!”

It was not at the Diamond Pony that the story would unfold, but the constable's …]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1067 Sun, 05 Oct 2025 12:57:54 +0000 Winnifred Dawson]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1067 like her mother-in-law, but she liked to keep the peace. The old Mrs. Dawson did have it rough, with her husband gone and three of her four children living far away. Could she be blamed for being overinvolved in Hugo's life?

Yes. Yes, she absolutely could.

But Hugo didn't see it that way. So here his wife was, keeping the peace. 

The old widow's birthday was coming up, and Winnie was determined to make a good impression and get the old witch off her case. (The drawing room wasn't dusted often enough. The front step looked unpolished. The meat was overcooked. What brand of tea did she buy? Fortnum? Oh no, Fortnum was no good. She should buy Jacksons. How much did she pay the maids? Oh, no reason, just a question. What? She was overpaying the maids. That dress was rather out of date. Hugo should be more attentive to her and give her a bigger allowance. Never worry, mother would talk to him!)

Jet jewelry would do. Old Mrs. Dawson had never come out of mourning, and it matched the colour of her heart. 

Winnie mentally corrected herself as she stepped into one of Whitby's many jet shops. Kind thoughts now. For Hugo's sake.]]> like her mother-in-law, but she liked to keep the peace. The old Mrs. Dawson did have it rough, with her husband gone and three of her four children living far away. Could she be blamed for being overinvolved in Hugo's life?

Yes. Yes, she absolutely could.

But Hugo didn't see it that way. So here his wife was, keeping the peace. 

The old widow's birthday was coming up, and Winnie was determined to make a good impression and get the old witch off her case. (The drawing room wasn't dusted often enough. The front step looked unpolished. The meat was overcooked. What brand of tea did she buy? Fortnum? Oh no, Fortnum was no good. She should buy Jacksons. How much did she pay the maids? Oh, no reason, just a question. What? She was overpaying the maids. That dress was rather out of date. Hugo should be more attentive to her and give her a bigger allowance. Never worry, mother would talk to him!)

Jet jewelry would do. Old Mrs. Dawson had never come out of mourning, and it matched the colour of her heart. 

Winnie mentally corrected herself as she stepped into one of Whitby's many jet shops. Kind thoughts now. For Hugo's sake.]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1063 Sun, 14 Sep 2025 18:25:06 +0000 Catherine Ennington]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1063  
It was a gloomy Saturday morning when the carriage pulled up in front of the book shop where the girl worked and a footman helped young Miss Catherine Ennington down. The little bell above the door announced her unexpected visit. Catherine looked paler and wearier than usual, but she was smiling to herself.]]>  
It was a gloomy Saturday morning when the carriage pulled up in front of the book shop where the girl worked and a footman helped young Miss Catherine Ennington down. The little bell above the door announced her unexpected visit. Catherine looked paler and wearier than usual, but she was smiling to herself.]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1051 Sun, 22 Jun 2025 09:00:46 +0000 Catherine Ennington]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=1051  
Worse than all of this was that there was nobody of consequence in town now that the tourists had gone. God forbid that Miss Catherine Ennington should seek company among Whitby’s own denizens. (Well, she did, but there was company and then there was company. Ellie wasn’t company.) The Carringtons were shunned from polite society. Catherine would rather call on the fishwives of the Crag before she’s call on them. The other girls in her charity society were too vulgar. The McPadraics (who moved in an echelon above her own, but Catherine had managed to befriend one of the daughters) were wintering elsewhere. Unfortunately, their own home in Cannes was being renovated after a storm. Most of her siblings were away at university or school. Mama had gone to stay with her uncle and aunt in Brussels and had taken her older sister, Isabella, with her. Catherine had been dying to go, but the doctor had deemed her unfit for such a long journey and had assured her that even the cold, damp North Yorkshire winter was not so bad for her constitution as the poisonous air of a continental metropolis.
 
The prospect of Christmas next month was now her one reason for existing. Although there were no suitable guests, and certainly no suitable gentlemen, Catherine had decided that she’d host a charitable Christmas ball. By making it a charity event, she could invite the girls from her own charity society and their equals, without admitting them formally to her circle. She even intended to invite Ellie. In fact, having an occasion to dress the girl up like a doll was half her motivation. The other half was that it was a good exercise in hosting – a crucial skill once she’d be married to a lord.
 
It was this occupation that brought Catherine into town today. The brougham waited for her outside the Mrs. Manning’s, the one draper that offered quality anywhere near what she could get in London. Sarah didn’t accompany her today. Mrs. Manning’s was women’s domain and hardly a place where a young lady needed a chaperone to protect her reputation. Catherine let her hand glide over a scarlet silk, wondering how it would look draped on the wall of the great hall.]]>  
Worse than all of this was that there was nobody of consequence in town now that the tourists had gone. God forbid that Miss Catherine Ennington should seek company among Whitby’s own denizens. (Well, she did, but there was company and then there was company. Ellie wasn’t company.) The Carringtons were shunned from polite society. Catherine would rather call on the fishwives of the Crag before she’s call on them. The other girls in her charity society were too vulgar. The McPadraics (who moved in an echelon above her own, but Catherine had managed to befriend one of the daughters) were wintering elsewhere. Unfortunately, their own home in Cannes was being renovated after a storm. Most of her siblings were away at university or school. Mama had gone to stay with her uncle and aunt in Brussels and had taken her older sister, Isabella, with her. Catherine had been dying to go, but the doctor had deemed her unfit for such a long journey and had assured her that even the cold, damp North Yorkshire winter was not so bad for her constitution as the poisonous air of a continental metropolis.
 
The prospect of Christmas next month was now her one reason for existing. Although there were no suitable guests, and certainly no suitable gentlemen, Catherine had decided that she’d host a charitable Christmas ball. By making it a charity event, she could invite the girls from her own charity society and their equals, without admitting them formally to her circle. She even intended to invite Ellie. In fact, having an occasion to dress the girl up like a doll was half her motivation. The other half was that it was a good exercise in hosting – a crucial skill once she’d be married to a lord.
 
It was this occupation that brought Catherine into town today. The brougham waited for her outside the Mrs. Manning’s, the one draper that offered quality anywhere near what she could get in London. Sarah didn’t accompany her today. Mrs. Manning’s was women’s domain and hardly a place where a young lady needed a chaperone to protect her reputation. Catherine let her hand glide over a scarlet silk, wondering how it would look draped on the wall of the great hall.]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=950 Sun, 18 Jun 2023 00:04:07 +0000 Pearl Blacke]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=950
There was much to be discussed by the family still, it was an opportunity that was certainly hard to pass up... but a whole year's worth of wages settled neatly in her reticule and she was about to open her own bank account for the very first time. Joe knew of the funds but work for him was very hectic, and he looked so worn out that she had let him sleep. Besides, people would leave her be, would they not? She was no longer desired company. Even now, she ignored the stares of the blueblooded folk who knew her family. She knew the poor folk would appreciate her coin, at least, so she wasn't worried about being turned away from vendors or bankers. Problem was, with bankers, it was not easy to be a woman.

She sighed and then the smell of something hit her. Her eyes widened, and she found some... corner to lose the porridge she'd eaten for breakfast. Oh... Well... that answered that question. She gave herself time to relax from the spasms, then pulled away from the building the mess at the base of the wall. She sighed and kind of just... ambled along until she found a place to sit, which wasn't easy at the moment. The smell of the marketplace was much too overwhelming, and she needed respite. She ducked into the public house closest to her.]]>
There was much to be discussed by the family still, it was an opportunity that was certainly hard to pass up... but a whole year's worth of wages settled neatly in her reticule and she was about to open her own bank account for the very first time. Joe knew of the funds but work for him was very hectic, and he looked so worn out that she had let him sleep. Besides, people would leave her be, would they not? She was no longer desired company. Even now, she ignored the stares of the blueblooded folk who knew her family. She knew the poor folk would appreciate her coin, at least, so she wasn't worried about being turned away from vendors or bankers. Problem was, with bankers, it was not easy to be a woman.

She sighed and then the smell of something hit her. Her eyes widened, and she found some... corner to lose the porridge she'd eaten for breakfast. Oh... Well... that answered that question. She gave herself time to relax from the spasms, then pulled away from the building the mess at the base of the wall. She sighed and kind of just... ambled along until she found a place to sit, which wasn't easy at the moment. The smell of the marketplace was much too overwhelming, and she needed respite. She ducked into the public house closest to her.]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=949 Sat, 17 Jun 2023 18:31:27 +0000 Andrew Willaby]]> https://bywitandwhitby.com/showthread.php?tid=949
And lord, had he tried to love her. He thought he had been in love with Rose, when really, it was the idea of not being alone that eventually led to his courting her. He felt guilty.

But thankfully, he had not let her come in today. He had things to clean up. He had yet to tell her, but he would have to sell the bakery. His dreams had been for naught and it was his own doing.

The man moved to gather up the bread that was still edible, putting it into burlap sacks for the children of the school. His friend, Uriel, had offered to take him on as hired help at his home. He would also have to sell the house he had just paid for in order to fix everything and make it right for Rose. He could do that much for her.

He would tell her the truth, even if it made her hate him. He would rather she know than pretend anymore. This wasn't what he wanted, nor was the random tupping with Ruth Longbottom. At least she was occupied with other things now and leaving him alone.

He would never touch another woman again no matter how he longed to. At least, nobody but Rose if she gave him the luxury of making it up to her and truly showing he meant to be a better man and proving it with every fiber of his being. He might not love her as a romantic partner like he thought, but his respect for her was enough to make things right as best as he could and for him to save what he could out of this whole situation.

It took him hours, thinking about her the whole time, but he had the displays emptied at some point. The clock chimed midnight and he rubbed at the back of his neck. He wanted to weep, himself, but tears would do him no good. He took the sacks of bread into the back room for the boy who would pick it up in the morning.

Andrew then took himself upstairs, sat down at the table that he'd eaten at as a bachelor. He pulled out the last of his money, counting it to be sure what he was doing had been the right choice. Normally, he would have talked to his wife for her opinion, but he felt it would just make things worse in the moment and he needed to figure out just how to get her to see he was going to give her better than he had, even if they didn't love each other.

She deserved to be cared for no matter what, and that is what he was going to do. With a heavy sigh, he began to look around him, at the legacy he was leaving behind. He'd worked so hard... For what? To make all kinds of errors in judgment and lose it all?

The man put the few coins away, it was enough they would at least be in comfort once Uriel was able to house him.

Then he finally put pen to paper and wrote a message for a messenger to send to Rose. It was simple and short, "We need to talk, but not right now. I have done you a disservice and wish to make it better. I don't think I can, but I would do whatever you ask if it makes it right with you. Please take these coins, hold on to them, and wait for me to summon you. All will be explained the way you deserve it." Then he folded it, put it into his coat pocket, and headed out of his shop for now, knowing he still had to finish selling things off.

He found a youth, one who grabbed up the farthing he handed. The boy took off with the letter and the coins. Andrew strolled down the street through the various businesses. Thriving shops, like his should have been. What a waste.]]>
And lord, had he tried to love her. He thought he had been in love with Rose, when really, it was the idea of not being alone that eventually led to his courting her. He felt guilty.

But thankfully, he had not let her come in today. He had things to clean up. He had yet to tell her, but he would have to sell the bakery. His dreams had been for naught and it was his own doing.

The man moved to gather up the bread that was still edible, putting it into burlap sacks for the children of the school. His friend, Uriel, had offered to take him on as hired help at his home. He would also have to sell the house he had just paid for in order to fix everything and make it right for Rose. He could do that much for her.

He would tell her the truth, even if it made her hate him. He would rather she know than pretend anymore. This wasn't what he wanted, nor was the random tupping with Ruth Longbottom. At least she was occupied with other things now and leaving him alone.

He would never touch another woman again no matter how he longed to. At least, nobody but Rose if she gave him the luxury of making it up to her and truly showing he meant to be a better man and proving it with every fiber of his being. He might not love her as a romantic partner like he thought, but his respect for her was enough to make things right as best as he could and for him to save what he could out of this whole situation.

It took him hours, thinking about her the whole time, but he had the displays emptied at some point. The clock chimed midnight and he rubbed at the back of his neck. He wanted to weep, himself, but tears would do him no good. He took the sacks of bread into the back room for the boy who would pick it up in the morning.

Andrew then took himself upstairs, sat down at the table that he'd eaten at as a bachelor. He pulled out the last of his money, counting it to be sure what he was doing had been the right choice. Normally, he would have talked to his wife for her opinion, but he felt it would just make things worse in the moment and he needed to figure out just how to get her to see he was going to give her better than he had, even if they didn't love each other.

She deserved to be cared for no matter what, and that is what he was going to do. With a heavy sigh, he began to look around him, at the legacy he was leaving behind. He'd worked so hard... For what? To make all kinds of errors in judgment and lose it all?

The man put the few coins away, it was enough they would at least be in comfort once Uriel was able to house him.

Then he finally put pen to paper and wrote a message for a messenger to send to Rose. It was simple and short, "We need to talk, but not right now. I have done you a disservice and wish to make it better. I don't think I can, but I would do whatever you ask if it makes it right with you. Please take these coins, hold on to them, and wait for me to summon you. All will be explained the way you deserve it." Then he folded it, put it into his coat pocket, and headed out of his shop for now, knowing he still had to finish selling things off.

He found a youth, one who grabbed up the farthing he handed. The boy took off with the letter and the coins. Andrew strolled down the street through the various businesses. Thriving shops, like his should have been. What a waste.]]>