Birds of a Feather II

Charlotte

"Murder at Willard's Rest!

A newly wed couple's honeymoon has been cut short! Three nights ago, the Van der Linde gang struck again. The vile fiends are back and have targeted a family living in a cabin north of Annesburg. Formally, it was the location of a known gang hideout only a year ago, but real estate ace Henry Fischer had them removed and sold the property earlier this year to promising, upstanding homeowners. But, no longer is there peace in this area.

A nearby neighbor is quoted as having heard 'demon dogs' and 'gunfire for hours'. Pressure mounts on the Pinkerton agents in the area to put a stop to this madness so the good citizens of New Hanover can live without fear that outlaws will murder them in their own—"

"That is wholly inaccurate," Charlotte angrily interrupted Trelawny's reading of the newspaper article.

Across from her, Trelawny raised an eyebrow. They sat at a breakfast table in the lobby of La Marque Hotel, which was situated in the heart of Saint Denis. It was just the two of them this morning, as Arthur had yet to wake from last night.

Charlotte continued, "For starters, Cal and I were hardly newlyweds."

"Ah, well." Trelawny chuckled and folded the paper up. He set it on the table, inexplicably amused at her indignation. "It seems they chose to go with a more riveting description, accurate or not. The tragedy of a young couple's happy ending cut short will sell papers, Mrs. Balfour."

"The details of my life are not meant to buoy their business."

"That, my dear, is where you're wrong. Sensationalism in the news has become the entire purpose of the industry. Would the story be as compelling if it was kept true to fact and never strayed?"

"Perhaps not, but the publication of it doesn't make it right."

"If it's any consolation, this article proves the law doesn't consider you involved with the gang."

She argued, "All it proves is the newspaper is willing to print whatever they want. It doesn't necessarily thwart the Pinkerton Agency's search and erase what they possibly know."

"A fair point," Trelawny allowed and suddenly glanced behind her. He greeted cheerfully, "Good morning, Arthur."

"Mornin'," Arthur muttered.

"Sleep well?" Trelawny asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Arthur turned his head sharply. "What?"

"Certainly better than the ground, wouldn't you say?" Trelawny's tone suggested there was an underlying meaning to his question, which Charlotte suspected she understood.

Arthur grunted his reply this time, not giving him another word.

"How are you feeling today, Arthur?" she asked him, concerned his sleep hadn't been fitful.

"Fine," he said curtly.

She offered, "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

"Ain't too hungry," he replied in a less aggrieved tone as he took the chair to her right.

"How about a cup of joe?" Trelawny offered, already pouring from the pot that had been left at the table for them.

"Sure." Arthur accepted the cup and nodded at the paper. "Anything interestin'?"

Charlotte frowned. "The authorities mean to lay all blame of my house's destruction on the gang. Not to mention, peppering an incredible amount of inaccurate details to further ignite the situation to extremes."

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know how many times I gotta tell you, that's just how the world works."

"Well." She pursed her lips a moment, dissatisfied. "I may just write a strongly worded letter to the editor in order for a correction to be printed of a more accurate telling."