A/N: hi, everyone, remember me? I hope you do! Well, here's the new fanfic I promised you a couple of weeks ago. This is going to be novel-length again, although a little shorter than Like Mother, Like Daughter. Also, this is my first Temeraire fanfic in which Jane is alive and has a more or less important role. And I must admit I sort of enjoying writing her. :D
Warning: this story is definitely not for kids, it is strong T-rated for hints at sexuality, various adult situations and occasional bad language. I am sure it does not reach M-rating, but is a strong-T. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: Novik owns the Temeraire universe. I am just playing with her lovely characters and putting them into situations of dubious morality. ;)
Much thanks to Mum and Michael for the beta!
SINS OF THE FATHERS
"...I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God,
punishing the children for the sin of the fathers
to the third and fourth generation..."
Deuteronomy 5:9
Chapter 1
Spectre of the Past
A hotel room somewhere in Dover, February of 1794
By the first light of dawn Jane was fondly running her gaze up and down the body of the man who had been her lover the previous night. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm, his lips – surrounded by a few wrinkles – tucked into a contended smile.
Jane swept a stray greyish blond lock out of his face and grinned to herself – she had never had a man twenty years older than her, but she had nothing to complain about. Her first two lovers several years earlier had been inexperienced teenage boys, neither of them capable of satisfying her in the least. This man, however, knew exactly how to please a woman. As they say, experience comes with age…
With a sigh, she reached for her garments and reluctantly put them back on. The last piece of clothing she found on the floor was a mask – a mask she had worn to the costume ball the evening before. It was not often that Jane Roland afforded herself mundane joys such as attending a ball, especially one that was not organised by the Corps, but once in a while she took delight in escaping her fellow aviators and mingling with 'ordinary people'.
Jane knew that she need not have donned a mask in the first place, as barely anyone at the ball did, but she was still a bit uneasy about the scar she had acquired a few months previously, and felt that she would have been too much of a spectacle if she had appeared sporting a barely healed scar that ran from her left eye down to her neck. Thankfully her scar had not repelled her partner, not in the least, it only seemed to have excited him.
Casting a last glance at the slumbering man, she left the room. As the door closed behind her with a soft click, she realised she had not even asked his name. Then again, he had not asked hers either.
With a little shrug, she walked down the stairs, wondering if she could deliver good news for Excidium in a couple of weeks. Well, time will tell…
oOo
Covert of Dover, March 1808
"Jane, may I make a request of you?"
"That depends," she arched an eyebrow at her one-time lover. He was standing before her desk, looking somewhat uneasy, his travel bags lying on the floor by his legs.
"Last night I realised that I had not informed my mother of the real events that took place before and after my treason," he replied in a flat voice. "Those short times I met her at Wollaton Hall over the winter never offered an opportunity to discuss these things, and I feel I owe her an explanation… not to mention that she needs to be informed of the change in my sentence. I would like her to learn it from me and not from the newspapers that I shall not be hanged. I am sure she will be delighted. So," he fished a sealed piece of paper out of his coat, "I have written her a letter, but since I am already on my way to the Allegiance, I have no chance to post it. May I ask you to have this letter delivered to her by courier… or in any way that makes certain that it is she who receives it and not someone else? Especially… not my father?"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jane could barely hide a smirk. "Your relationship with your father is still as problematic as it used to be, I presume?"
"Worse, actually," he admitted. "His health has been ruined, and I am sure it is due to the shame I brought on the family, not to the… worry about me. He never loved me enough to worry."
"I see," Jane took the letter, almost feeling sorry for him. She had never known her father, but she assumed it could be a thousand times worse to know your father and know that he detests you than to have no idea who he is in the first place. Perhaps Emily was fortunate too, to have not the slightest inkling of who her father was. "I will see to it that the letter is delivered to your mother and given to her personally," she said with an almost smile.
"Thank you, Jane, I am in your debt."
"No," she made a grimace, "you are not. What are friends for, eh?"
He coloured slightly. "I never hoped you would still look at me as a friend after all that happened."
"Well, I do, and I expect you to write regularly, especially about Emily's advancement. And… take care of her. Safe journey, Laurence."
"Good bye, Jane," he took her right hand and lifted it to his lips, then bent for his luggage, and before she could blink twice, he had left her office, leaving an unknown sense of misery in his wake. Jane sank into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. She knew she had to stay strong, for the Corps, for Great Britain, for Excidium and Emily… but she could not help it, even she was only human. A single tear ran down her cheek and fell on her right hand in her lap, washing away the tingling sensation his kiss hand left there. She knew she was going to miss him more than she would ever dare to admit.
oOo
Forty-eight hours later the morning found her on the grounds of Wollaton Hall, the cattle lowing and running up and down in the pen in fear of the dragon that had just landed.
"A little jittery, aren't they?" Jane slid down Excidium's side and patted her dragon's neck. The past two days they had spent flying northwards, just the two of them without the crew, sometimes in conversation about the war, sometimes deep in silence. Jane felt she badly needed some time just to herself, some time to clear her head, and Laurence's request had offered her a good enough excuse to leave Dover for a couple of days and be just herself for a change. No Admiral, no 'Her Ladyship', no warrior, just a woman on vacation with her pet – as much as a fully-grown Longwing could be considered a pet. The Corps could wait, the war could wait – it was not likely that after Napoleon's invasion there was going to be a new attack any time soon – and for the time being Jane was perfectly content with being a courier and delivering a message for a friend.
The grass beneath her feet was soft and the air was filled with the promise of spring, some fresh and lively scent that you can only smell at this time of the year when branches are full of buds and the first tulips' and hyacinths' leaf-tips are poking out from the soil. Nature was awakening from a long slumber, and, Jane hoped, so was England itself. Napoleon's invasion and all the horrors it had brought with it, had been the winter for all Britons, but now there was hope again, they had managed to make the Corsican flee, and the nation could finally face a new beginning, just like nature did in spring.
"Stay put, dearest," she told Excidium, "I shall ask for a few cows for you once I'm done." With that, she left her dragon's side and approached the charming country house with long, manly steps.
A footman opened the door for her, and, somewhat uneasily eyeing her male uniform, escorted her into the drawing room, promising to inform Lady Allendale of her arrival.
Jane looked around in the room and taking in its rich but still tasteful decorations, noted to herself that apparently everything in connection with the Laurence household was screaming of sophistication and nobility. No wonder Laurence himself had turned out the way he did…
Hearing footsteps, Jane rose from her seat to greet the elderly woman whom she had first met a few months earlier.
"Lady Allendale," she bowed her head a bit as a sign of respect, "I hope I am not intruding."
"Not in the least, Admiral Roland," came the benign reply, "you are most welcome here. How may I help you?"
The lady was speaking with peace and elegance, yet Jane could not ignore the slight tremble in her voice. This was, after all, a mother, waiting for news on her son who had been sentenced to death.
"Thank you, but I need nothing," Jane shook her head. "Your son has asked me to have this delivered to you before he left for Australia," she fished the letter out of her coat. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Jane knew well what it meant: a mother's surprise, shock and utter relief. "Yes," Jane sent the countess a small smile, "he is no longer sentenced to death but… exiled. I am sorry, Lady Allendale…"
"Do not be, dear Admiral," the old woman said with tears in her eyes. "William lives, and that is what counts. Thank you for going to so much trouble and delivering the letter."
"Oh, it was no trouble, I needed a few days off anyway, fighting Napoleon does that to you… it's damn tiring. As for the letter… Laurence wanted you to have it. You and no one else, especially not his father." Seeing a sad twinkle in the lady's eyes, Jane quickly added, "But I do not intend to further impose. I only request one or two cows for my dragon who has flown all the way from Dover and is quite hungry."
"Oh, of course, Admiral, the stable boys will help you with that," Lady Allendale replied, taking the letter from her.
Seeing the old woman's hands tremble as she touched the paper, it was obvious for Jane that she wished for nothing more than to be left alone and have a chance to read the letter's contents. Just as she cleared her throat to say good-bye, a shaky male voice spoke up from the staircase, "Who is there, Adeline?"
"It is Admiral Roland of the Aerial Corps," the lady replied, quickly slipping the letter into her pocket.
"What… what does the Aerial Corps want of us again?" the male voice grunted.
A sharp reply was on the tip of Jane's tongue, but she froze as her eyes fell upon an old man at the top of the staircase. He was wearing a dark velvet dressing gown, and he was leaning on a stick, his back slightly stooped and his breathing heavy – apparently even a few steps had required great effort of him. The first thought that came to Jane's mind was how this man had aged since she had last seen him, the second thought was if he recognised her at all. His eyes held some sort of contempt as he glowered down on her, but no recognition. Perhaps he was just good at hiding it, or perhaps he had become senile with old age. Still, Jane was not entirely sure if the contempt in Lord Allendale's eyes was directed at her aviator status, or at something… else. And she definitely did not feel like staying and finding out.
"I have been on duty in the vicinity, Lord Allendale," she said, angry at her shaking voice, "and when we last met, Lady Allendale was gracious enough to offer a cow for my dragon whenever it was needed. I must be off now, and thank you for the cow in Excidium's name." With a tiny inclination of her head, she turned on her heels and marched for the front door. Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air, was fleeing like a child caught red-handed. Well, as they say, there's a first time for everything…
oOo
A/N: reviews would be much appreciated.