Where there's a will . . .

It seemed months had passed, but in only a short time, a message was sent to me that my father's solicitor, Mr. Warren, wished to meet with me.  He gave me the option of coming to the manor, but the idea of the servants witnessing my potential downfall, should the Baron have amassed sizable debt, gave me pause, and I sent word ahead with a rider that I would be at his office at the opening of business the following day.

In the early hours, I stepped into the carriage and in a few short hours, we arrived at his place of business. He offered me tea, but I was nearly ready to jump out of my skin; I politely declined and asked that we simply get to the matter at hand.  

He laid a scroll out on the top of his desk and I tried to remain calm as he began to speak.  In truth, I understood very little.  Words like "codicil" and "testamentary" were beyond my grasp.   I struggled to keep my countenance serene, and even managed to dab at my eyes numerous times; so great was my frustration that the tears were real.  I longed for my freedom.  I could see it, just outside of my vision, and in my mind, as the foreign tongue of legality was spoken, I tried to close it out, fearful of unhappy news.

Finally, he came to the point.  "I must apologize for the lengthy preface, Baroness," he began, "but these matters must be seen to with great care."   I waited, perched on my chair and he continued "The long and the short of it, is that the Baron had planned to leave a rather large chunk of his estate to a woman named Katie."  My heart stopped beating.  I knew that it was the wretched maid of whom he spoke; the very one who told of my plans to flee to Belgium with Edward. I nearly moaned aloud at the thought of his name... to think of that at such a time only added salt to my wound.  I was dumbfounded.  The Baron must have kept the little shrew as a concubine, and his intentions were to give her what was due to me, his wife! I nearly screamed, but Mr. Warren continued "However, his plans were interrupted by a message from the regiment that he should travel to the colonies at once, and so you see... he never did have time to make that change.  And so you are left with... " he paused, reaching for his quill and quickly wrote something down, passing it to me as he said "sometimes, seeing a number, rather than hearing it, holds more gravity."

I looked at him, confused and merely accepted the slip of paper as it was pushed towards me across the surface of his desk.  I held the paper down, and tilted it, to capture the candle light and what I saw rendered me speechless.

The Baron had been a very successful businessman, this I knew.  He had managed to ingratiate himself with merchants of all nations, despite his ill manners, and was well known for his adeptness in trade.  He had done quite well for himself, indeed.  I expected to perhaps double my inheritance and be able to live somewhat comfortably, but this . . .  I had never seen a number such as this.  It began to creep into my mind that I was now a very rich woman.

No.

A very rich free woman.

I thanked Mr. Warren for his time, and asked how soon I might be given leave to use this money as my own, and he informed me that the banks had already been alerted.  I then advised him that I should very much like to purchase a new home closer to a port, for being in the Baron's manor only brought memories of my dearly deceased husband to mind, and the sea always put my mind at ease. He nodded, fully understanding that I was merely going through the motions and called in a man; a James Harley, who would be seeing to that matter, personally.  Mr. Harley explained to me that there was a particular estate in Southampton, just north of Portsmouth, that might fit my needs.  I advised him that I would be packing some things as soon as I arrived home, and making my way down that very evening; I added that my caretaker would see the estate first, and if he deemed it worthy, I too would visit it and make my decision.

Several hours later, and after sending word ahead of my carriage that I should like my trunks packed, I found myself standing outside of the manor.  The breeze off the lake sent my mourning veil in motion, as I looked around one last time before climbing into the carriage.  My trunks were set and secured atop the coach behind, and the carriage shook slightly as the horses were urged forward.  I turned to watch the manor disappear behind the thickening woods, as we moved onto the south road, and soon enough it disappeared.

I leaned back a moment, and carelessly lifted the veil, pulling it from my hair and letting it drop to the floor of the carriage as my foot moved forward and I dared to dream of the glories of my new-found freedom.

Make a wish . . .

The warm summer sun, in a final act before acquiescing to the moon, beat down upon the stones, removing all trace of rain.  The fading rays peeked through the clouds sending diamonds afloat on the shimmering water of the fountain.  My walk brought me here on many nights since I became mistress of the manor, and tonight was no different.

My vision lowered to the floor of the fountain's pool and I wondered that there were no coins there.  Had the Baron become so accustomed to his method of acquiring wealth and lands and provision that he had forgotten how to wish?  My breath became labored as his image came to mind.  Rough hands and rougher manners. Briefly, I imagined him on his sickbed and yearned for news of his demise.  I shook my head as if to ward off the mental picture, and refocused.  

The lions on the plinth roared silently as an endless stream of liquid poured from their fearsome mouths into the base.  I reached into my pocket, and my hand closed around an object.  I brought it out into the fading light and smiled at the ducat; or moreso, what it represented: the images of La Rocca, and of my friends so well-met there.  I hoped that recent letters sent had reached them in time to urge them come and keep me company.  

My teeth grazed my lower lip and I felt a small surge of hope in my breast.  Quickly, I dispatched it, and held the coin between index finger and thumb over the fountain whispering so that even the nearby birds could not hear me:

"I would wish for love.  I would wish for adventure.  I would wish an escape from my current situation.  But no . . . none of these shall be mine until fortune bestows on me that which I need and not desire.  And so, today, I simply wish...."

I left my fate to fortune as the sun glinted off the coin before it sank into the horizon. End over end over end, and finally, noiselessly, sliced through the surface of the water and gently landed at the bottom of the fountain.  A wavering mark of my hope, barely visible, but clearly present.

I turned, walking toward the manor and stopped to pick a bloom, breathing in its sweet perfume and softly murmuring: "I shall be patient."

Heart to paper to ash

I wandered about the manor tonight as a ghost, haunting each room before finally opening the doors to the Baron's private library.  My fingers played along the spines of his many books, likely unopened, I mused.  I disliked that he was so unlikable, but I disliked myself even more for how very much I wished him ill.  It seemed patently unfair to me, that I should end up in such a situation; the prospect of widow or drudge staring me down from wherever the fates might reside.  

Letting out a shaky sigh, I turned to leave, when I noticed that the evening sun had created a pool of light upon the Baron's desk. The sun glinted off the glass jar of ink and beckoned me to write... but to whom? And of what? All that I knew and trusted knew of my plight.  And yet... within my heart, a single letter remained unwritten.

I moved past the heavy chairs toward the desk, my skirts rustling like dried leaves in autumn as I passed. I lay my hand on the sheet of blank parchment there and it was warm, inviting me to pour my thoughts onto it. I sat, then plucked the quill from its resting spot and dipped the point into the ink, obliging the paper, and began to write.

"Edward:

You will never know the sorrow I endured at your handling my heart as if it were the mere plaything of a child who had grown too old for such frivolous diversions and so casts it off as refuse:

Unneeded, unwanted, unloved.  

As I read your letter, above the crashing waves and the shrieks of gulls, above the noise of the marketplace, and cries of the purveyors and footfalls and wagon wheels, I heard my heart softly shatter. And each shard, as it fell, embedded in my very soul.  You not only cast me out of your life, but into an abyss of darkness so pitch black and seemingly bottomless that I fell beyond its core, and upon finally hitting ground, found myself in a landscape that surely even the depths of Hell cannot boast.  No tree bore leaves or fruit.   No water lapped at the cracked and thirsty shore.  

And there I resided; exiled by your cruel and off-handed rejection.  You may be satisfied that your regard for me, once so highly esteemed, once taken from me, left me there to perish.  You may well rebuke yourself for your behavior, for well you know that you did not display friendship to me as your letter proposed.

It matters not, for regardless how long I resided in the darkness, my tears cannot fall forever, although, in truth, they still fall, at times when I am alone, and left to my thoughts.  But these more recent tears are not for you, but for myself.  

My tears fall for who I once was; for surely you have committed the most unspeakable murder of  the innocent and naive girl who believed your professions of love, and who willingly gave up everything to run away to be with you.  

And who is left standing in the shadow of that corpse?  I look into my mirror and I do not see your victim, but a young woman who, daily, feels the sharp pains of healing in a still-hopeful heart.  Her eyes have lost the glimmer of idealistic fancy, and her heart is now cracked, but not irreparable.  

My heart still beats within my breast, and my eyes look outward to the future with the hopes of one who is wary but wiser, and the knowledge that out there, somewhere is someone who will claim this fragile and damaged heart.  

Gently placing the quill down, and leaving the balance of the letter unwritten, I blotted the page gently, preserving each neatly penned word.  It seemed apropos that I should leave it open and not sign it. I knew that someday I would be able to write a preferable postscript, and one that I would joyously affix my name to.

I sat back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before rising and carefully folding the letter into the shape of a heart.  I walked to the mantel and held it up before the flames, watching as the glow transfused itself into a deep orange and red upon the paper, and did not shed a tear as I spoke quietly "Goodbye, Edward" before tossing the letter into the flames, watching it curl as it turned to ash.

O Fortuna

Since my husband's departure for the colonies, I have found myself in a chasm between misery and boredom.  I have certainly moved enough to understand what must be done in a new home, but my husband wished everything to remain as it had been when he left, so that upon his return, he would recognize his home.

The problem? His taste is in his mouth.

Naturally, being the good wife that I am, I immediately sent for my seamstress, picked out new silks for the windows, and new brocades for the furniture covers.  The staff were impossible. No matter what I did to try to be kind to them, to offer them a new perspective, or outright turn them to my way of thinking, they would write to the Baron who would write to me, chiding me for disobeying his wishes, or for being unkind to the servants, all topped off with a bawdy and completely tasteless post script, I'm sure he felt I would swoon over.  Instead, I was thunderstruck.  And nauseated.

Finally, and realizing that there was no alternative but to escape the confines of the manor, I took a voyage to La Rocca, where the temperate weather and relaxed atmosphere typically calm me.  There were, of course, the members of staff with me who most often watched my every move, and reported it to the Baron, which irked me, but it was unavoidable, unless I wished to completely run off alone, but that had turned out very poorly the last time I attempted it.

The voyage was mercifully uneventful and after finally convincing the maids they needn't be at my heel every moment, I went for a stroll and found myself happily in the company of my dear friend, Signore Stern.  We conversed over some delicious wine; it seems so mundane, but my relief at seeing the face of an ally was immense.  The Professore always has a way of putting me at ease and drawing out of me anything that might be weighing on my mind.  I shared with him my recent unhappy status (marriage notwithstanding) and he nearly immediately came up with a brilliant solution.  He sent word to some friends of his in Sicily, I believe, who would advertise the need for English servants, paying far more than the Baron, and so steal away the most troublesome of my staff.  I was delighted!  The prospect of having some privacy and the chance of possibly gaining new servants who might be more inclined to help me run things more smoothly was cause for celebration.

My spirits sufficiently lifted, and again finding myself in debt to Signore Stern for his kindness, I walked to the small villa I had procured for the week and slept soundly for the first time in weeks.  I awoke humming a pretty song I'd heard coming from the tavern the night before, and made plans to hold an event, as I'd done at my family's estate... it seemed so long ago, and it would do me well to have friendly faces around me.  I decided on a theme, and smiled as I imagined all sorts of risque activities sure to reach the Baron's ears.

Less than a week later, the fencing tournament was upon La Rocca, and I eagerly walked up the hill to see who might be competing.  I was happy to see Lady Macbain among those gathered, and also saw Signore Gandt among the group, and that he would be competing.  Such excitement! The sharp clinking of foil against foil and the sounds of exertion filled the air.  Sadly, Signore Gandt did not make it to the final round, and he did manage to sustain a small wound to his hand, but luckily a Doctore was there to tend to his pain and his injury.  I was so enjoying myself, I did not see my new footman scurrying up the hill towards me until he was nearly upon me.  I met him across the green and he handed me a letter which had just been brought urgently to me from the colonies.

There had been an uprising of the rebels in Massachusetts, and the Baron had been hit by musket fire.  He was being tended to by the very best physicians, it said, but they were very sorry to report that they could not guarantee his survival.  Immediately, I sent the footman to get word to my Papa, so that I would be kept apprised of the Baron's health as quickly as possible.  He would send ships there, I was assured, and the fastest of his fleet would get word to me.

A good and loving wife may have fainted in shock and dismay.  A good and loving wife would have wrung her hands and shed tears. I merely saw a possible escape from a crude and heartless man who stole from me my innocence and chance of finding love.   I spoke of it to Signore Stern, asking him what possibilities there might be of the Baron's untimely demise; considering his age, and preoccupations with drinking and chasing women.  I shuddered to think he might come limping back to England after our triumph there, hailed as a hero, and looking to have me tend to him day and night, turned from young woman to drudge.  This, I could not bear.  I had to set to work so that the wheel of fortune might once again spin in my favor.

I watched the balance of the match, weighed down with this rather severe problem.  My mind tried to solve the issue of ensuring that the wound might incapacitate the Baron, or (I dared to think) kill him, while not risking my immortal soul in the process.  And then it dawned upon me:  there were still a few members of staff who might be put to good use.

Immediately, I advised my servants that we would be sailing back to England the next day, and they set to packing while I wrote a note and had it sent ahead with a ship leaving that morning.  A dear childhood friend had written to me upon word of my upcoming nuptials.  The letter arrived to the manor the day of the wedding and the Baron, upon seeing such intimate words, thought it from a lover and forbade me reading it.  I managed to slip it from his waistcoat while he slept, and I felt assured that I could trust my friend to help me.

Upon arrival to the manor, another carriage was stopped in front.  My carriage no sooner stopped than I was pulled out by my waist by my dear friend John, son of the Earl of Westmoreland; we had spent a great many summers together as children, his parents and mine being very good friends.  I had written ahead, and so he knew my predicament, and my goodness, the looks on the faces of the Baron's servants!

I played for him in the music room and he stood so close by, so attentive and complimentary. At dinner, I insisted that he take the head of the table (I thought the footman was going to drop the tray).  We strolled a bit outside after our meal, my arm in his, and our piece de resistance, was when I invited him into my private sitting room adjoining my bed chamber.  We had to avoid looking at one another, or our laughter might have given it away.  My word! The expressions on the old staff members' faces was not to be believed!

I feel sure that the Baron will receive word of this very soon.  I am equally assured that it will not be good for his health.  I have no doubt that this night's activities will reach the ears of the nearby towns, as well, but the servants are such nosy busybodies that I doubt anyone will take their word.  And if they do? C'est la vie. I will see what Fortune brings my way next.

______________________________________________________________________________
((happily this gives me an excuse to post one of my all-time favorite pieces of music))




O Fortuna
Velut luna
statue variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem
egestatem
potestatem
dissolvit ut glaciem
Sors immanis 
et inanis
rota tu volubilis
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata
et velata
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.
Sors salutis
et virtutis
mihi nunc contraria
est affectus
et defectus 
semper in angaria.
Hac in hora
sine mora
corde pulsum tangite
quod per sortem 
sternit fortem, 
mecum omnes plangite! 

The Baron Takes A Wife

In Belgium, in the early morning hours, a young man rushes into the town square and into the cafe.  A conversation can be barely heard above the din:
"Sir, I must know... was it delivered?"
"O'Course! You paid me well to make sure it was, M'Lord, and so it was!"
"Then my part is done...."
The young man reemerges from the cafe, his skin has the pallor of one who has recently been ill.  He stands a moment, in the square, his eyes searching as if to see the shadow of a recent occupant, and walks toward the docks.  His back to the city gates, he ignores the crowd around him and gazes out to sea.
____________________________________________________________________________
[Journal entry 11 July 1773]

Before a thought departs my mind, I must do my best to recount the recent past.

I stayed below deck for the entire voyage back to England.  I had no appetite for sun nor for food.  I felt as though  I had been cored. Eviscerated. Where once a brilliant light shined, and possibility and hope danced a minuet around my heart, now all is barren and laid to waste.  I am condemned to live a life with this Baron; a man I do not love... a man I do not even know.  I feared that he would vow his eternal devotion to me, and then leave me alone in his manor on his lands, alone and without protection. I had no eagerness to fight this future; I had no eagerness at all.   Papa's men looked after me as well as can be expected, as the hull of the ship slammed the ocean's waves; so great in its haste to bring the goods to shore.  Ever the merchant, my father.

No sooner did we land ashore in Portsmouth than I was shuttled Northward, to Balcombe. A small cottage offered me a place to rest and when the maid walked in to tend to my hair, washing the dust of travel from my skin and dressing me in the gown prepared for me by Mama, I simply let her do so, and I admit to some relief that it was not Katie who they had sent.

It did not take long, and I was back into a carriage, bringing me to the small parish on the Baron's lands. I looked out, silently, upon the passing landscape, and tried my best to control the flood of emotions rushing through me.  In the familiar surroundings of England, some comfort found its way into my mind and I swallowed back the tears of loss, willing myself to remain composed so that I might do what must be done.

Mama and Papa were at the small chapel to welcome me; and the tears finally broke through the barrier of my false courage. I clung to them, not knowing at all the part Papa had played.  Mama soothed me, and Papa was such a vision of pride that I could not help but stand straighter, as the tears were wiped from my cheeks.  Together, they brought me to my betrothed: The Baron Robert Clive, who much to my shock was far older than even I could have anticipated.  I did my best to keep my expression plain and pleasing but the look in his eyes was quite unsettling.

Papa took the time to say a few words, memorializing their contract and then taking my hand, placed it in the Baron's.  The deal was done.  I stood a moment, simply unsure and in a state of panic, and the Baron led me before the Vicar, who until that very moment, I did not even see.  As he began to drone on about the duties of marriage, and on the topic of love, I felt a strike through my core.  This should have been Edward.  I should have been in Belgium.  This was all going terribly wrong.

I looked up quickly, into the eyes of the man who would be my partner on the journey of life, and saw not love, but something else.  I had seen that look before on the faces of the many merchants who had come to see Papa.  It was the look of a deal well made.

The ceremony both seemed to last forever, and to be over quickly.  My mind was reeling from having been so recently on board a ship, then in a carriage, then dressed and coiffed with so little rest, and now here, and when the words were spoken that sealed my fate, it was as if a large bell tolled in my head. I was now the Baroness Clive.  My identity was gone and replaced with another, as easily as changing the flowers in a vase, or a gown from day to evening.  I turned to look at Mama and Papa and they looked so pleased, so happy.  I could not help but smile for them; trying my best to be obedient, even on the heels of my great error.

Congratulations and goodbyes took so little time, it seemed, and the sound of Mama and Papa's voices were replaced by the creak of their carriage and then by the silent stand of trees.  The Baron .... my husband.... touched my arm with his; crooked to offer me a place to rest my hand and I looked down upon it.  His coat was of fine material.  Gold thread created a line around the cuff, and gold buttons gleamed in the light.  I may have waited a little too long to rest my hand on his arm, but he did not say so, if indeed he noticed.

He asked if I minded a walk, seeing as I had yet to see my new surroundings, and when I simply nodded, he turned, and we began to walk towards his manor.

On the walk, he pointed out this and that. I fear I did not pay much attention, and upon taking notice, he chided me, explaining that I would be lost without this knowledge when he departed tomorrow at first light (TOMORROW?! I thought)  I simply acquiesced although I am no common girl who would be awed by such things.  I merely nodded in what I hoped were the right places and followed his lead until we finally came upon the manor.  It was finely built, with many windows, and smoke came from several chimneys, as his servants poured out of the house, eager to impress the new Baroness, undoubtedly.

The footmen were tall and straight, as expected, and many of the maids had kind faces, for which I was grateful, though I did still hold some suspicion of maids, perhaps these would be different.  The Baron brought me into his home, and I had barely a moment to glance at the interior hall before we ascended the stairs.  I thought it odd that he would expect me to rest so soon, but I thought perhaps that was for the best.

He introduced me to Anna, who would now be my personal maid, and bowed saying that she would tend to me until he saw me. I merely curtsied and managed a smile. I watched him leave as Anna set to work removing the yards and yards of fabric which lay upon me, heavy as a stone.  She laid the gown on the foot of the bed, and I closed my eyes, relishing the weight that was lifted from me when I heard a noise.

The Baron had returned, and must have sent Anna silently away.  The maiden of my so recent past cried out and as he pulled me to him, I began to beat on his chest.  I know that I was supposed to be a good and faithful wife, but... 

[several sentences begun, crossed out, and begun again]

I cannot possibly recount the details of this evening, but the Baron cannot have objection to my sharing one thought:  Is this what all married ladies endure? It cannot be so. It simply cannot be so!

________________________________________________________________________________

At first light, Anna awoke Olivia to dress and see the Baron off.  He met her in the entry hall and kissed her on the cheek. He said that he would be away some months, but that he would write, and she should do the same.  The carriage groaned under its heavy burden, and as it disappeared from view, Olivia's face brightened with the possibilities of freedom.

Land, ho! (Belgium chapter continuation)

((Although Belgium was known as the "Austrian Netherlands" during the period of this story, I've kept it simple and left it by its current name -- it may not be era-specific, but it's easier, and easy always wins... or something))

For two weeks, we sailed.   The ocean lurched and rolled, mimicking the anxious nature of my heart.  Dressed in common and concealing rags to stave off unwanted advances from the crewmen, Lady Gabrielle and I have done our best to earn our passage.  We have learned to tie knots, and done laundry with sea water. My hands are red and raw, my neck and arms are tanned hide from the sun's reflection on the waves, and my hair ... oh dear, my hair.  But all of these great sacrifices are happily paid, so that I might see a certain man at a cafe, and learn the whereabouts of my beloved.  I would withstand a year of this, and worse, to look upon his face again.

The food aboard is quite unpalatable to me, but each night I have taken a bowl of soup or stew and a heel of bread with grateful hunger and enthusiasm, for each meal marks another day we are at sea, and another strike upon the days until I see him again. 

Yesterday, I stood on the main deck, beside my loyal and true friend.  Lady G and I were doing exceptionally poorly with our knot-tying lessons from a sweet boy, Dan, who did his best to be a gentleman and not to laugh at our miserable failures.  So intent were we on our lesson, and for so long did we toil that I did not see a land mass, rising magically from the endless blue rippling satin of the ocean.

A call of "Land, Ho!" was heard from the crow's nest, above, and I froze.  Hands ceased to work on the knot. Only the few tendrils of hair which I was unable to tame were brushing my cheek.  I dared not raise my view for a few minutes that felt like weeks, for fear of finding it was an error, or worse, a prank.  Finally, I lifted my head and there it was.  A hazy smudge on the horizon that, while I watched, took shape from simple form to detailed land, and a town's walls grew from within it, as if it were being painted by some celestial hand before my eyes.

I stood, staring, and the vision blurred.  I reached out my hand as if to urge the painter to continue, until I realized that this creation was not being undone; it was only my tears of happiness which robbed the details from my view.

There was a growing sound coming from the direction of the land, as well.  The constant snap of the sails above and the roar of the sea below were replaced by creaking wagon wheels, cries of purveyors, and the rising and falling of the voices of those near the pier; I mused that this new sound ebbed and flowed just as the ocean, but this wave would bring me to shore.  

To shore!

I dropped the length of rope I had been holding, at my feet and spun around, dashing for the cabin to do what I could to be more presentable.  I ripped gown after gown out of my flung-open trunk and settled on one that would do.  Turning, I held it up to my fuzzy reflection in the looking glass and found myself unsure.  Would he dislike me, so disheveled, and undone? What of our future? I could not always be what he had met; surely not, now that I had left behind my inheritance.  Worry tried to worm its way into my mind, until a bell rang, signaling that our ship was coming into port.  Gabrielle rushed into the cabin and I grasped her hand, trembling with the deluge of emotion rushing through me: terror, exhilaration, joy and worry all rushed through my veins like a heady wine.  I burst out, half laughing, half crying and made my way behind the dressing screen, and Lady G. saw that my corset was tightened, and all as it should be.  Dear G.  I know I should have gone mad without her temperate and reassuring voice each day.  

My fichu discarded and each measure of fabric properly placed, I emerged from the cabin to see the crew sliding the gangplank down to the pier.  I nearly ran to be the first disembarking, but the Captain's hand caught my arm, gently, "M'lady.... we must wait."   What was he thinking!? I must depart! I must find the cafe that Edward told me of!!  My face must have been full of righteous outrage, for his tone softened and he blocked the view of my paradise; my escape.

Captain Zeffirelli pulled me aside and out of the line of crewman throwing lines and securing the gangplank "We've just now landed in port, M'lady.  We'll do a bit of waiting for now. My first mate has gone to speak to the tide waiters, to clear that all may go ashore. Here, I have set up a chair near the rail, so that you might watch its progress."  Such a kind and thoughtful gesture brought me back to my senses and I merely smiled and allowed him to pull the chair back slightly so that I might sit; gathering my skirts as I did so, but leaning forward, intently.  The Captain sat not far off, strumming a lute and I silently censured myself for not having the forethought to bring more coins with me.  I would want to properly thank the Captain for allowing such dangerous cargo on board his ship.

Time passed, and we conversed. I did my best to be interested, engaging and pleasant but each moment that passed seemed to extend the distance between Edward and myself.... a distance I could not bear.

When the voice of the first mate below yelled "All clear to go ashore, Captain!" I feared that my heart would burst from my chest and I stood quickly, eyes on the Captain to be assured that we now could finally make progress.   His head nodded, a small and fleeting smile on his face before returning to the proud and capable Captain.  Lady G joined us, and we made our way down to the pier, and through the city gates into a bustling town center.  So much noise after the wind, the ocean and creaking ship being my ear's companions.  I understood now, in some small measure, why the Captain chose the serenity of the sea.

I looked around, turning this way and that, until finally catching the eye of a young girl passing with a basket of goods

"Excuse me.... would you be so kind as to direct me to the cafe?"

Her answer, a wry smile and a pointed finger over my right shoulder "Just over there, Madame"

I curtsied, slightly blushing for having missed what was so near before me and the Captain, Lady G. and myself made our way through the crowd to an empty table sitting on the square.  Before long, a servant came and asked us if we would be interested in some food and drink.  The Captain saw to ordering and I jumped at the chance to ask if the owner of the cafe might visit our table.  So eager to find out my next destination, was I.

The servant smiled and I expected an answer in the affirmative, but was told "Oh, Madame, he is not here tonight! Tomorrow morning he will be here with the dawn, M'Lady!" before turning with a small curtsey and moving to retrieve our wine.    My heart sank; so impatient to be rejoined with my heart.  The Captain and Lady G. were so reassuring, so kind, so understanding.  

The night passed without my eyelids meeting. Every so often I would tumble from the bunk aboard the ship and seek out any sign of dawn, while a groggy and half-sleeping Gabrielle would mutter "Daniela.... patience," so accustomed as we were to using different names to travel under.

Finally, the dark turned to a golden hue, and while my companion slumbered soundly, I pulled on my gown and fastened the robes around me.  I ran my hand along the wall to guide me and alit onto an eerily empty deck. The crew, full of wine and exhausted from their merriment, no doubt, were nowhere in sight.

I made my way into the town just as the carts, full of fresh supplies were guided by their purveyors to their daily spots, and saw a robust gentleman giving direction to the servants at the cafe.

"Sir...." I quietly intruded "I have traveled weeks to reach this destination in the hopes that you might place within my hands a note of great import to my future..."  His expression of annoyance at interruption was replaced with confusion, and then with realization as he snapped his fingers, remembering "Yes! I was given the task and no small reward for seeing that a certain message might reach a young lady matching your description," he replied, and without hesitation he waddled into the cafe for but a moment, returning with a letter.  Emblazoned on its face: Olivia

I stood holding this treasure and smiled up at him with glimmering eyes, unable to impart my thanks for his great part in this adventure and he waved me off, saying "Go on and get your news. I hope the writer's ills don't trouble him long, he seemed quite pale but quite intent on this delivery."  

I stood, perplexed, and as the shadows lengthened, stood in the town square, reading the words:

"My dear Olivia,

I shall forever feel the weight of my distress in learning that you believed I wished for you to accompany me here.  I have just recently got word that your plans to marry the Baron were interrupted by some misleading fancy that I felt for you what he feels.  

You must consider me cowardly for not making it plain to you sooner than this, but my dear, had I the slightest inclination that you felt for me, more than my own steadfast friendship, I would have set you straight -- this you must believe.

I pray your journey has not brought you any ill, and that your return shall be a passage of fair winds and calmest oceans.  I look forward to the happy tidings of your marriage, and wish for you, my dearest friend, nothing but happiness.

Sincerely,

Edward"

The paper fluttered to the ground, soundlessly.  The sun bore down in its heavenly brilliance upon the hats and heads gathered in the square.  The ocean lapped at the shore.  And in my breast, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

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In England, the Duke sat seeing to documents as the Duchess embroidered near the fire, occasionally repeating things she had heard from her maid (a hopeless gossip).   He did not hear her, for his mind was occupied with just one question:

Had his fastest ship been fast enough to deliver a large payment to a certain young man, and had he purchased his disappearance?

(to be continued....)

A letter to my parents ~ On the run

[A letter is found by the maid, Katie, on Olivia's desk, marked to her parents but not sent by any courier. It is immediately sent by rider to the Northern estate house]

Dearest Mama and Papa:

I have written this over and again, in an attempt to tell my feelings, but time runs short, and I must finally have it done.  I have received Mama's letter advising me to follow with haste her instructions to come North and to marry the Baron Clive.  I know now that Katie must have spied upon me, and I know that she is not true and loyal to me, but to you both.  This saddens me beyond words, but so be it.  I shall tell you, in my own words, what she chose to tell you in her's.

These several weeks, I have come to know and to love a young man.  This, in itself, should bring joy to the hearts of a young girl's parents, but I find myself instead faced with a consequence of that love which I cannot bear.  I am quite sure that the Baron Clive is a fine and noble gentleman.  I am also quite sure that you have the best intentions for my future in the match. But, I pray you... both of you... think back to when you first met.  I have heard the story told to me as long as I can remember; how great a love that you, Papa, felt for you, Mama, and how he would bear no obstacle to your marriage.  

Fortune smiled upon you, as there was no impediment to the match, in that a gentle birth was assured and peerage proven.  Answer this with your heart, Papa, I beg you: Were that not so, would you have given up your great love for the betterment of your fortune?

I know that you believe me a good and loving daughter, and I know within the very core of my heart that I have, for as long as I have lived, I have followed your instruction, regardless of its impact upon myself.  But, I cannot do so now.  I cannot and will not do as you command. Not this time.

My heart is set upon this young man.  I shall not tell you his name for I know that you would do him ill, Papa.  I have packed what I am able in short time, and am leaving England this very night to seek him out in another country. I shall not tell you of my whereabouts or any details of my passage until we are joined in a bond before the eyes of the Creator.

Know that my heart is heavy with this choice, for I wish to be a good and obedient daughter, and be a blessing to you both.

Please thank the Baron for his generous and tempting offer, and advise him that I am unable to accept his proposal, for I am promised to another.

I shall write as soon as I am able, and until then, please know that I am your loving daughter, and devoted to your every happiness, but this.

Olivia

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In the country house, as the Duke and Duchess enjoy an afternoon on the lawn, a rider hands the letter over, and a roar of anger is expelled from her father's lungs.  He immediately stands, toppling the table and the tea, as her mother takes the letter and reads.  Her expression turns to one of horror as the Duke storms toward the stables.

Before he can ride off, however, the Baron arrives in his carriage holding up a small brown book and calling out to the Duke.  A short conversation ensues, and it becomes clear that the maid had been watching Olivia's actions closely, and although Olivia had made every effort to hide the few trunks she meant to flee with, Katie found them, and pulled her journal from the contents.  The Duke reads its contents, sure that this will prove useful in tracking  her, gives his blessing to the Baron to take it, and use it as he sees fit.

Shortly after, at the pier, the Duke sees that six of his fleet of merchant vessels are sent out. Four to the North, South, East and West, one to La Rocca Sorrentina, (where Olivia had traveled to often) carrying the Baron onboard, and one to France to seek information there.

The Duke returns to find the Duchess overcome with worry.  He does his best to soothe her, but something that he read in the journal comes to mind and he tells her not to fret; that he will return in a fortnight, and all will be well.  The Duchess, assured of a positive outcome, seems calmer, and the Duke sets out for a destination mentioned more than just in passing in Olivia's journal.  He tells no one.

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To be continued....