A port in the storm
Greetings, friends! This was a charity submission I did for Fandoms against Domestic Violence, and the time has come where I can post it. Many thanks to Fran for beta-ing and Gabby/Gail for pre-reading the original tale. I have done a little cleaning up and fluffing since I submitted it but nothing drastic…until the new stuff!
For those that may be concerned, there is no abuse or violence in this tale. There is conflict, but that's not where the 'M' rating is earned.
It was a dark and stormy night when Edward Masen made his way to Swan House in the hopes of fulfilling his father's promise. He prayed Master Swan would honor the contract Edward, Sr., had made but could no longer uphold. Little did the young man know that the storms of life strike equally, regardless of social status, and he was not the only one searching for a safe port.
Torrential rains continued to fall, punctuated by frequent thunder and lightning as a young man trudged down a wide driveway leading to an ostentatious manor house. He carried no umbrella, for he did not own one. Clutching his worn overcoat tighter around him as best he could with a worn satchel in one hand, he continued on his course to the front door just as another wave of precipitation tumbled from the sky.
After straightening his sopping wet clothing in a futile attempt to appear merely soggy rather than completely soaked, he pulled the bell, praying he would not have to wait for long before a servant would respond. He was not disappointed. A tall, slender man in a distinguished gray suit opened the door, disdain at the man on the doorstep's condition evident on his face.
"Edward Masen to see Charles Swan."
"Master Swan is dead, Sir."
Edward's heart clenched. He had placed all of his hopes on reaching Swan's home to fulfill his father's promise.
"He and my father had a contract."
The doorman paused, weighing his words carefully. He was not an unkind soul, but there would be a veritable hell to pay should this Mr. Masen drip too long on the hardwood floors.
"Perhaps you had best come inside and speak to Master Hale."
"Master Hale?"
The servant motioned for Edward to enter the foyer, closing the door with a solid 'thunk' just as another bolt of lightning, this time closer than before, lit up the sky.
"Mistress Isabella and young Master Emmett's guardian. If you will wait here, Sir."
The man steadily and silently walked out of the room.
Edward checked his reflection in the mirror, straightening his coat, brushing off as much of the condensation as he could. There was little he could do for his hair. Always unruly, now, after a hike in the rain and wind without the benefit of a cover or proper overcoat, it hung past his shoulders in dark ropes.
Then he listened.
Somewhere in the house, a fire crackled. He could hear the popping and hissing as the rain came down the chimneys onto the burning logs.
He shivered. He pondered if the rest of the house was as cold as the foyer or if it were merely due to the fact he was soaked to the bone.
The faint scent of Sunday roast clung in the air. Edward unconsciously rubbed his stomach as it began to protest the lack of anything solid being deposited therein for the last thirty-six hours.
The servant reappeared, his face only slightly more friendly than before.
"Master Hale has retired for the evening, but he does remember an Edward Masen being mentioned in Master Swan's papers."
"That was my father. Edward Masen, Senior. I am his son."
Edward clamped his mouth closed. Exhaustion and desperation gripped his brain and the logic circuits therein, making his reactions muddy. He hoped he did not appear as simple as he felt.
The servant did not appear pleased to be interrupted and Edward's visage became properly apologetic.
"Master Hale has requested a meal, a bath, and a room be prepared for you, and he will be available to discuss what is to be done as he breaks his fast in the morn."
Edward tried to hide his happiness at the idea of a solid meal and a good bed to sleep in. At that particular moment, he would be content to sleep in the hay barn and eat pig slop.
"This way, Sir," the servant ordered, motioning toward the main hall. "Leave your satchel and coat. I will have it brought to your room."
Edward followed closely, trying desperately not to appear overanxious.
Soon he found himself in a well-appointed kitchen, the scents of the evening's meal still lingering in the air.
His stomach rumbled in anticipation.
He clutched at it in an effort to mute the sound.
A warm laugh called his attention back to his surroundings.
"Jasper, love, who have you drowned and brought into my kitchen?"
A petite wisp of a woman made her way around the table across the room, wiping her hands dry on her apron. She had a warmth of spirit that immediately put Edward at ease, and he found himself smiling down at her.
"Master Hale has requested a meal for Master Edward Masen."
"Pish. You know in my kitchen there are no titles." She waved her arms as if erasing the words from the air. "Charles, Lord bless his soul, would not have it."
She tilted her head up as if expecting a kiss. The man looked around to see if they were being watched. Since there were no other servants present to pay them any mind, he placed a quick buss on her cheek.
The woman beamed up at the man, and for a brief moment, his face softened into a loving smile.
She turned back to face her guest, hands on her hips, her sharp eyes assessing his appearance in a way that held no judgment.
"So, Edward. You look like a man in need of a good meal or two. Let me fix you a plate. Name's Alice. This here is Jasper, as you may have gathered."
She bustled around the kitchen, placing more food on a piece of china than he had ever seen before. It was soon joined by a tankard of ale and a chair pulled up next to the fire for him to warm himself by.
"You sit. You eat. You need more, you call for Alice, and I will fix it myself."
Alice grabbed Edward by the arm and guided him to a chair, forced him to sit, and shoved a plate into his hands before she disappeared into the larder.
"You better eat," Jasper said when Edward hesitated. "Alice will take it as an insult if you don't clean your plate."
Edward picked up a piece of cold, roasted chicken and began to devour the fare more quickly than was polite.
Jasper smiled thinly. He knew Alice was a fine cook and recognized true hunger when he saw it. The two of them would be fine friends. His wife took no greater pleasure than to feed those that liked to eat. And something about the young man bespoke of someone who could use a friend.
"I will go arrange for your bath to be brought to your room. I will fetch you in the morning when Master Hale is ready. I do think you will sleep late. You look like you might fall asleep where you are sitting."
Edward mumbled a thank you around his full mouth, blushing at his manners, but it had been days since he had enjoyed a full meal, taking only a piece of bread or an apple here and there as he journeyed to Swan House.
"Take your time, Sir."
Edward smiled and took a draught of his ale. It was of good quality and unwatered, and he felt the drink warm him from the insides out.
A blissful sigh bubbled forth, quickly followed by an appreciative belch, that Edward guiltily attempted to suppress before realizing he was now alone. Relaxing immeasurably, he turned back to his plate and cup with renewed vigor.
After a few moments, he felt drier, warmer, and well-fed. He reached back for his tankard only to find it empty. He started to look around to see if he could find Alice to ask if he could have something more to drink when a young woman caught his eye. She was watching him curiously as if trying to determine who he was.
Edward jumped to his feet and snapped to a quick bow.
"Edward Masen, at your service," he said briskly, hands at his sides as he had been taught.
The woman said nothing, merely staring at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.
Assuming she was a scullery maid, he motioned with his tankard.
"I do not suppose I could get more to drink, kind lady."
A mischievous glint in her eye told him that she was trying not to laugh.
"Or could you fetch Missus Alice so I could ask her?"
At this, she laughed. Quickly, quietly. But she laughed and covered her mouth in an attempt to mute the sound, which disappointed him for he very much enjoyed it.
Then she came and held out her hand for the mug. Edward offered it without a word, and she took it before disappearing into another part of the kitchen. A few minutes later, she reappeared and held out to him a full tankard.
He nodded his thanks as he took the cup and quickly drank half of the contents in one draught.
When he looked up, the woman was gone. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, Edward surveyed the kitchen to determine where she had disappeared to but he did not succeed.
Moments later, Alice reappeared. She looked at his empty plate and nodded her approval.
"Need more?"
"Oh, no. I could not eat another morsel as wonderful as it was."
She waved off the praise before noticing his half-full cup.
"Did you not need more to drink?"
"Oh, I had my cup refilled."
"You did?"
"Yes. A lovely young lady."
"Young, you say?"
"Yes. Why?"
"What did this young lady look like?" Alice's face scrunched up in thought. There was only one other 'young lady' in this house, and she had never approached a stranger in her life.
"About this tall." He placed his hand mid-chest. "And long, dark brown hair. Lovely features. Seemed a bit delicate. Simple, black dress with silver buttons."
"And you say she got you more ale?"
"Yes. Why?"
"That was Isabella."
"Isabella?"
"Isabella Swan. Older child of Charles Swan."
Edward paled. His employer had just served him a drink. And he had asked her for it as if she was nothing more than a common servant.
"Isabella has not spoken to anyone other than her brother... Has not interacted with much of anyone since her father's death. She wanders the house, keeping to herself."
"Is she mad?"
"No. I don't think she's mad. I think she's heartbroken. Missing her father. Her mother left the house years ago when she and Emmett were still in the nursery, and she remembers little of the woman. But her father and she, they were very close." Alice paused before continuing. "And you say she talked with you?"
Edward thought for a moment.
"No, she did not say anything. She did laugh at me for asking her for a drink."
"She laughed?"
He nodded. It had been a beautiful sound, but she had indeed laughed.
"Well, Edward Masen, you may have just earned your keep if you got a sound out of her."
Jasper reappeared at the door. He looked back and forth between Alice and Edward, knowing something was afoot. Alice waved him off, meaning she would talk to him later.
"This way, Master Edward."
Edward followed Jasper up to a room. He realized it was not in the servant's quarters, but on the main floor as if he was a guest of the family.
Just before he entered the chamber, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a black dress similar to the one Isabella wore, but it whisked out of view when he looked back.
"I trust everything will be as you need it," Jasper said, motioning toward the bed. "I have taken the liberty to unpack your belongings; sent a few pieces to the seamstress to repair. They must have been damaged in transit."
Edward blushed. He knew Jasper was being kind, but the fact was, his clothes were more quick repairs by his own hand than the original stitching. Spare coins had been used to finish his education in the hopes of earning a place in a fine home as a tutor or even a sponsorship to further his schooling and potentially be a professor at a small institution.
He burbled out a thank you as he examined the room. A simple copper tub filled with still-steaming water was in one corner, near a cheerily burning fire. A desk, a bed, and a privy closet finished the furnishings. It was far finer than any quarters he had enjoyed while at university.
"I will come for you when Master Hale is ready. If it is before breakfast, that is. If after, I will show you to the kitchens."
Edward nodded and soon found himself alone. Wasting no time, he quickly stripped and submerged himself in the still blessedly hot water, a sound of bliss filling the room as he soon found himself warmed to the bone. In his rapturous state, he did not notice the eyes of a painting behind him disappear, only to be replaced by a pair of live, dark brown ones. He did hear a small, faint, and positively female voice gasp, and he spun in the copper tub to see if he could find the source. In his haste, a small amount of water sloshed onto the wood floor as he clutched a small washing cloth over his chest in a thin attempt at modesty.
Edward quickly looked around the room but was unable to ascertain the sound's location. With a quick shrug, he decided to return to his ablutions.
Isabella stood in the servant's passageway, her hand over her heart. She had not known the visitor would be in the tub. Had she, she surely would not have spied on him. Her eyes were clenched tightly closed as she tried to calm her heart. She had not seen anything that she had not witnessed before…only a broad back without a stitch of clothing. When he spun around, she caught a quick glimpse of … Her breathing stuttered at the image burned into her mind. A sculpted chest with a light coating of dark hair.
She took a deep breath.
She had seen bare backs before, she rationalized. Whether it was the stable boys after mucking out the stalls or even her own brother as he ran to the small pond behind the house after his lessons on a hot day. This was surely no different, right?
Even she realized her justification was shaky at best.
That man was not mucking out a stall in his breeches, and he certainly was not a seven year-old boy.
Isabella felt her cheeks warm even further as she pictured the stranger's broad shoulders and strong arms.
Above all, those times of stable boys and her brother had been when she was younger. She was eighteen now. And she knew it was not the right thing to be seeing no matter how attractive it might be.
And the young man was quite handsome.
She shook her head to clear it of such an inappropriate thought, but the image of broad shoulders and bare chest refused to disappear.
A part of her wanted to go back and look again. Curiosity had always been one of her grandest traits, but propriety won and, she heaved a frustrated sigh. Gathering her skirts, Isabella cast one last glance toward her spy hole before retiring to her own bedroom.
Thank you for reading. I'm hoping to post chapters weekly—some long, some short.
I hope you enjoy, and as always, I love hearing your thoughts because reviews are almost as good as Edward in a copper tub.