Ian Marcus Weaver Whitlatch is the only child of a doctor and the manager of a charity soup kitchen in Salisbury. Dad helps everyone whether they can pay or not. Mum doesn’t take a salary for her work instead donates her time to feed the impoverished.At the beginning of the novel, his parents employ two domestics: Ian’s tutor Mr. McKay and Ms. Blacksmith the housekeeper and cook.
Note: For the Other System’s Universe, they are upper middle class, however, their lifestyle for the average family in today’s world, they would be lower-middle class.
For example: like most people on Earth at this time, they don’t own a car. Since Dad’s clinic and Mum’s Soup Kitchen is across the back garden, they also generally have no need of one.
Virtues: Respects every person, doesn’t believe in violence, hard worker, kind-hearted
Virtue that hurts him: Unfaltering idealism which presents as pretentiousness
Vices: Judges by outer beauty, doesn’t always get along with his parents, can be self-absorbed
Parents: Grace Alice Teague. Weaver, Royce Xavier Langly Whitlatch No Siblings.
Education: Home Tutor until age fifteen, then Oxford undergraduate studies and Oxford Medical School
Ian yanked off his apron and washed his hands. The cut was deep, but not bad enough to show Dad. Pressing a handkerchief to the wound, he scrutinized himself in the mirror and tucked in his shirt. An angry pimple had formed between his nostril and cheek. Ugh. Even when his skin was clear, his nose was too big. Mum always said he had Dad’s handsome looks. That was unfortunate for them both.
Ellie jumped for it. Knowing momentum might carry her in medium gravity, she forced herself to fall and hit the decking. Her legs burned as she skidded the last four meters, but the luggage stopped moving. She pressed her lips together and blinked back tears.
“Vous allez bien, mademoiselle?”
Light created a halo from his straight hair, but when her eyes cleared, she looked past his nose into his deep green eyes, filled with concern.
Without thinking she answered back in English. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
He wore an officer’s uniform, but she recoiled from the soft, delicate hand that reached for her. He was probably going to yell at her like everyone else did.
“You’re an Englishwoman?” he asked helping her to her feet.
“I speak English. I’m from Seattle. My name is Ellie Sethdottier. How do you do?” She curtsied though she wore pants.
“I’m Dr. Ian Whitlatch, and I’m just fine, but that looked like a nasty spill you took.”
Coming this Summer