Once Mother left, Charlotte dragged her chair as close to the cliff’s edge as she could, then sat down again, readjusted her skirts, and closed her eyes. The sun did feel lovely.

“The best treatment for consumption is sun and sea air,” Dr. Browning had said, and Mother quickly ordered a hansom to Brighton. Despite such devotion, Charlotte knew this trip would only prolong the inevitable. 

Now she thrilled at her precariousness, heightened by the wind buffeting her chair. Her life had been spent approaching death, but here she could choose.

She extended her arms and leaned over the edge.