A DAY WITHOUT RAIN

There is not much change in the seasons of Port Royal. It is warm and sunny most of the year, except during the winter months when it is cloudy more often than not, and there is a constant struggle between fine mists and torrential downpours throughout the day. It is on one of these days, at the dawn of November, and only a few days after bringing Elizabeth home, when I find her alone in the library.

She is curled up in an armchair, as best as she can considering the circumstances, and is watching the torrent pounding against the windowpanes, blurring visions of the Jamaican jungle beyond. Her brow is furrowed, and she seems to be deep in thought when I knock on the library door to announce my arrival. She glances up and gives me a tentative smile before shifting into a more comfortable position.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. It is a mantra I have repeated over and over again to her since our arrival back in Port Royal not long ago, but she never seems to grow tired of answering to at least assuage my general concern.

Her hand immediately goes to her stomach, more visible despite being underneath all that fabric. She lays her hand flat upon it, and I am taken aback by the tender smile on her lips. She seems lost for a moment, and then she looks up.

"I'm fine," she says quietly, "And you, James?"

"Well enough," I respond with a nod, "Look, I've been thinking over the past few days that we need to get away for a bit."

Elizabeth's brow crinkles again.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was talking to Andrew down at the fort, and he suggested we get out of the house for the day and come see them. They live far enough out of town, and I thought it might be a nice escape for the two of us," I offer, "Besides, I think Rachel might be in need of some female company for a change."

Elizabeth considers this thoughtfully for a moment and then nods.

"Are they expecting us on a certain day?"

I am delighted by her response, but at the same time, I am wary of her saddened tone underneath her enthusiasm. She answers in such a way that suggests her entire heart is not in it. Even as she responds she turns away slightly seemingly distracted once again by some thought or idea.

"No, they are not expecting us a certain day. Andrew said we could come any time we fancy. I thought perhaps we could go tomorrow if the rain lets up."

She nods absently and goes back to looking out of the window as though our conversation never happened.

- Elizabeth's POV -

The rain, however, does not let up for several days, and it is already into the second week of November before we are able to get away from the confines of home. That morning, though it is still overcast and humid, we clamber into the carriage and set off for the Gillette's home about an hour inland. James and I sit crammed next to each other, and it does not take long before the constant swaying of the carriage lulls me to sleep.

Sometime later I am shaken awake gently, and I blink rapidly and push a strand of hair out of my eyes. Rachel is bent over in the front garden, her skirts hiked up, and she looks up, wiping sweat from her brow, as we approach and come to a stop at the gate. A smile lights up her face when she realises who we are, and she wipes her hands hurriedly on her apron before coming to the gate. James helps me down from the carriage, and I rub my neck absentmindedly to ease the tension knotted into it.

"Elizabeth! James! What a delightful surprise," Rachel cries, ushering us in through the front gate and up the front steps into the house, "Andrew's out at the fort, but he should be back soon. Do sit down, and I'll make some tea."

She bustles out of the room, and a few moments later she can be heard rustling about in the kitchen. James leads me into the sitting room and looks on with concern as I struggle to lower myself into a chair. Finally seated I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand that does not slip past James' notice.

"Did you sleep well?" he murmurs.

I rub absently at my neck again and grimace slightly.

"Well enough considering the circumstances," I say, and then shake my head, perplexed, "I have no idea why I am so tired all the time. I've been sleeping well at night, and I haven't been doing anything particularly strenuous during the day."

James' eyes meet mine, and we both know exactly why I am so tired, but there is a mutual agreement between us not to say anything about it, at least not right now. Suddenly, Rachel appears carrying a tray with teacups and a steaming teapot. She sets about pouring cups full of hot brown liquid and passes them around.

"So, what brings you all the way out here?" Rachel asks, taking a sip of her tea carefully.

James glances at me, and his hand twitches as though he is about to place it on my arm or shoulder, but he refrains.

"We just thought it would be nice to get away for the day."

Rachel nods, "Well, you know you are always welcome here."

"That is why we came to you first," James says kindly.

Rachel laughs, and shakes her head, her red hair spilling out of its coiffure, "We aren't exactly the epitome of entertainment, James."

She suddenly cocks her head, listening, and sets her teacup down on the tea table.

"I think Andrew is home," she says slowly, preparing to stand up. Just then he enters the house and bellows, "Rach, whose carriage is out front? Oh."

He turns the corner into the sitting room, and immediately his face breaks into a grin at the sight of us around the tea table.

"James!" he cries boisterously, extending his hand, "I was wondering why you weren't down at the fort-"

They banter back and forth with one another for a moment before Rachel nudges me in the arm. Raising one eyebrow she asks, "Would you care for a turn in the garden? We've got some lovely shade trees, and I am certain it would be more interesting than listen to these two get on like they haven't seen each other in years."

I suppress a smile.

"Yes, of course."

We slip out the back door and walk off in the direction of a small grove of trees at the edge of the property. Small talk about the weather and the baby passes between us, but once we are in the shade of the trees I ask Rachel, "How did you meet Andrew? If you do not mind me asking."

"Not at all! I was wondering when you would ask," Rachel replies comfortably, picking a few leaves off the nearest tree and letting them fall to the ground, "I am not from England. I was born in Scotland, the oldest of eight children. I left after the birth of the last one and went to England for work. It was not easy. Many were wary of my accent and the fact that I was a woman looking for work. I was in Southampton when I met Andrew, and by the time he was ordered to Jamaica we were inseparable. We married right before we left, and we have been here for four years since."

"Four years," I mouth, my eyes wide, "I can hardly imagine James and I being married for that long. We will be lucky to make it to a year I think."

"Tush," Rachel says, "You two are doing well enough."

Changing the subject Rachel asks, "And how did you come to Port Royal?"

I easily rattle off the story. "My mother died when I was very young, and my father and I were never close. When he was given the title of governor I think he looked on it as a chance to start afresh. We came to Port Royal when I was eleven or twelve. It was an immense change for the both of us."

"And that is when you met William Turner?"

I nod, hesitant to answer too many questions about the exact nature of my relationship with him after he left Port Royal.

"And you have no idea where he has gone?" Rachel asks innocently, genuine concern on her face. Sometimes I am not sure whether she is rooting for James and I or Will and I.

For a moment I sit poised to tell her about my secret correspondence with William, but then I remember that she knows nothing about my escapade to the Florida coast or James' gallant effort to bring me back home. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, but when I open my mouth I merely breathe, "No, I do not."

Rachel does not look crestfallen or upset but simply leans back against the tree nearest her and does not press any further. It is a trait that I love about her, and I tell her so, to which she takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

"I would not dare tell you what to do, Elizabeth," she says, "Not when you are such an independent and strong minded woman. It would be hypocritical of me to do so, and I fear it would damage the friendship we have been tentatively building."

I smile in return, and then decide that now would be the moment to bring up an idea that has persisted in my mind since arriving home, an idea that I have yet to share with James. However, now that I am on the verge of revealing it to Rachel I am aware that she may not take it well.

"Rachel, I have a question," I begin slowly.

Rachel nods, her face eager, as she urges me to continue.

"What would you say – or do, I suppose – if I were to tell you that you could . . . have a baby?" I say the last part in a rush, my heart beating traitorously in my chest.

Rachel narrows her eyes suspiciously and responds carefully, "I would be ecstatic naturally. You know my situation – any child would be welcome in my home. Why do you ask?" Suddenly, her eyes widen in shock. "Elizabeth, you're not- you- What are you saying?"

"I think you know," I say quietly, taking her hand and placing it gently on the swell of my belly underneath my gown. I can feel her hand trembling like a leaf, but whether it is from emotion or something else, I am not sure. "I have been thinking about this for some time. Rachel, I want you and Andrew to take the baby. If you will have it, of course. I do not know how to explain the way I feel. I love this child more and more each day, but James and I are so dysfunctional; we are still working out exactly what sort of relationship we have, and I do not want any child of mine to grow up amidst such confusion. You and Andrew are wonderful and so much more deserving than I am-"

"Elizabeth, I understand you, and I am so extremely grateful for your offer. Never in my wildest dreams could I have thought a child would come our way, and now that I am faced with your proposal I do not know what to say," Rachel is nearly breathless as she speaks, and I can see her fighting to hold back what I know are joyful tears. "My heart tells me to say yes immediately, but my head tells me otherwise. I must speak with Andrew first, and I am sure you have yet to speak with James. He will want to know. There are so many things to consider, and I want them all to be thought out before we proceed. After all, we have some time yet."

Rachel takes her hand reluctantly from my stomach and folds it back in her lap. Her gaze, however, remains where her hand was for a few seconds longer. She speaks quickly in the lull that follows.

"When we go back in the house I will propose to Andrew that you and James take a short holiday in our home this Christmas. We will stay with a gentlewoman I know in town. We will have plenty of time to talk to our respective spouses, and when we meet again after Christmas we will have sure answers for each other. I know it is terribly diplomatic, but what do you think?"

"It seems to be the best way to do it," I say, and a thick, contemplative silence falls between us once again.

"Are you a bit warm?" Rachel asks after a minute fanning herself, "We've been out here longer than I expected. Perhaps we should go inside and see what the men are up to."

She is right. The sun, just visible underneath the clouds, is already high overhead, and its heat can be felt despite the cover of the trees. We traipse back inside to find James and Andrew in an adjacent room full of books poring over a map on the table. Rachel pauses momentarily in the doorway, and then looks back at me, a glint in her eye the only reminder that our conversation from seconds earlier still weighs heavily on her. She winks at me, and then saunters into the room and wraps her arms around her husband. He straightens up suddenly, surprised by her forwardness in front of others.

"Rachel!"

"Darling, I was thinking-"

"A dangerous past time, my dear," Andrew mutters, earning him self a light punch on the arm. "All right, go on."

"I was thinking as Elizabeth and I were out in the garden that it would be nice to let them borrow the house for a few weeks, to get away for a little while longer."

"A wonderful idea," Andrew begins, and turns toward James, "but I do not think my superior officer can be spared from the fort for that amount of time."

Rachel looks dejected for a moment, and then her eyes light up with another idea.

"He would not need to take off for that long," she says in such a way that makes it seem as though her idea were the most obvious solution in the world, "It is not that far a ride into town you know. Besides I have got it all worked out in my head. I promised Mrs. Ludlow from church that we would stay with her for a few days. She has no children or husband and sits all alone in that great house. I am sure she would be most willing to allow us to stay longer."

I look to James, whose face betrays how uncomfortable he seems to be with the situation. When Rachel looks to him, however, he smiles kindly.

"It really is a wonderful idea, but I cannot allow the two of you to be turned out of your home on account of us."

"But we won't be!" Rachel cries, slightly exasperated, "We will be with Mrs. Ludlow!"

James opens his mouth to decline again, but already I can see that Rachel will not take "no" for an answer. She holds up a hand to stop him.

"I insist James," she says with mock sternness, "but I will hear no more about it. I have made up my mind."

Andrew grins at James and shrugs.

"There is no use arguing," he says, "When my wife has got her mind made up then there is no changing it."

"Right you are," Rachel says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Seeing James' continued reluctance I turn to Rachel myself.

"Write to Mrs. Ludlow and explain the situation. If she will allow you to stay an extra amount of time then send word to me, and we shall come by the end of the month."

Rachel nods, her eyes beaming, and then I turn toward James.

"Will that set your mind at ease?" I ask him gently, "I am positive some further time away from the business of Port Royal will do naught but good."

"Of course," he breathes, capturing one of my hands in his own and giving it a light squeeze. It is the first time he has committed some display of affection toward me in the company of others since our chaste kiss at the wedding altar. Rachel catches my eye, and I blush fiercely though no one else seems to notice.

Authoress' Note: Sorry if Elizabeth's proposal came out of nowhere! She's a tricky blighter, and I hardly have any control over her impulses. Thanks for the reviews as always! Late happy Christmas and cheers to a New Year! Hope you all enjoy the extra long chapter. :)