In the morning, the water from the tap was slightly warmer than the night before and they both took baths in quick succession. Dressed and packed, Elizabeth and William went downstairs, where a sour-faced woman served a meager breakfast. There were other guests in the minuscule dining room, so they didn't acknowledge their fellow traveler, instead played the role of lovers by staring at each other in wonderment. She glanced once at Gene only once, sensing that he was watching them like the others in the room.
She didn't play her role to the fullest. While Elizabeth understood how Frank (or George as she still thought of him) could turn his charm on and off, she didn't have the conviction to play the role of a newlywed wife, and was timid and shy rather than beaming and happy. She certainly wasn't pleased with the idea of William's plans in Norway. His leaving hampered her ability to say yes to his proposal.
The train was boarded, but they found that they needed to share their compartment with two men. Conversation went back and forth between the two locals who drew in Gene recognizing his London accent; they appeared to know instinctively that some questions shouldn't be asked and avoided specific ones about destinations and reasons for travel. Elizabeth and William continued to play the role of newlyweds, but she was surprised to learn details about Gene's background as she listened to the talk. He was one of the Brigadier's old-school recruits, having played polo and fenced. He was competitive at both.
It was evening when they arrived in Aberdeen, stopping along the way at many stations, but the light had already begun to fail. The rail station was situated near the docks and tickets to Lerwick sought. Explaining their mission and providing identification and documentation took time; access to the Shetland Islands was controlled because of its proximity to Norway and the enemy. Darkness encased the city when they left the docks, and the trio focused on selecting a place to eat before they boarded the ship.
Restaurants and pubs littered the area, and they chose one merely on the tidiness of its exterior. The fare provided on the menu was more abundant than at home, and when their plates arrived, Elizabeth blinked at the amount of food. She assumed the platter was meant to serve hard-working people, dockworkers, and fishermen, all of whom needed more sustenance. It was a change from the meager meals that Mrs. Shoesmith had served. Discussing their mission wasn't possible, but Gene Carter's distance for most of the day was still present. He asked about their status.
"Are you a couple or was last night's arrangement merely because of what we're doing?" he blurted out; his cutlery held in his hands as if weapons. Elizabeth blushed and stared, caught off-guard by the unexpected question. Resentment over their relationship would potentially harm the mission if it hampered William and Gene's ability to work seamlessly together. But William's shoulders straightened as he put down his fork.
"We have been stepping out since 1939 even if we've kept our relationship under wraps," he answered, staring briefly at Gene, before tackling his meal, giving no quarter on the topic. Elizabeth followed his example, and they finished their meal.
The wind had picked up when they left the café, and the chill of the day cut through them as the trio made their way to the ship. The sting on her cheeks made Elizabeth think that it might storm on their crossing. She had never been on a ship before. School friends had crossed the Channel to France when such a trip was possible in their childhood, but she had never gone. The ship was smaller than she imagined but made of steel, not wood. Elizabeth realized that she had imagined a wooden fishing vessel, but then understood that a wooden ship wouldn't be the safest at making the two hundred plus mile trip across the North Sea. Her insides fluttered at realizing how far from home she was and as worries about the voyage rose.
Tickets were displayed, and they crossed a plank onto the ship's deck, navigating around a lifeboat that partially hung in their path. One passenger walked towards the back to lean on the railing, but Elizabeth wondered that the frigid night didn't bother him. The front of the ship had two decks. The top deck was mostly open, but with a small enclosure that she assumed was for the crew, where a few white-hatted men could be seen. But the enclosed deck she and her companions entered covered about a third of the ship's fore. Tables and chairs were dispersed around the space with padded benches in front of the windows. Passengers who were familiar with the crossing sat on those benches, knowing they made suitable beds.
William steered her to a table and placed their luggage next to it. Gene followed with slower footsteps and put his bag at a nearby table. Elizabeth noticed that there was only one other woman in the room.
"Best to make yourself as comfortable as possible. I'm not sure how well we'll sleep," he said, holding out a chair for her. The wooden chair wasn't padded, but she sank into it, still taking in this unusual space. It was warmer than outside, but she felt no inclination to remove her coat as the chill on her cheeks indicated that it wasn't overly warm.
The two men sat down, and the three of them waited for the ship to pull away. Others gathered in one corner, and she noticed what appeared to be a small bar. The engines roared to life, and the floor rumbled beneath her as the ship finally began its journey. The vibrations rattled up from her feet, through her stomach to her head. Elizabeth went from clear-headed to dizzy in what seemed to be an instance. She shot a hand out to clasp the table, hoping she wouldn't topple over as a sense of pressure pushing down mounted on top of her head. Her stomach wound up tighter and tighter, and that excellent meal threatened to reappear despite willing it to stay put. She was no sailor.
She slumped back in the chair as sweat formed everywhere on her brow, palms, and exposed legs. The ship's rattling and rumbling seemed to make everything inside jerk unnaturally; the dizziness in her head increased. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand down hard on her lids. That pressure seemed to help.
"Elizabeth!" William's voice cut through the tension and shaking inside. Hands were on her, sliding under to lift her. She found her body laid straight, a pillow of some sort under her head. Keeping her eyes closed was her best defense. Her insides still roiled, but lying prone eased her fears and the dizziness. She concentrated on merely breathing in a steady rhythm as she fought off being violently sick.
Time passed, and Elizabeth managed to sleep on that narrow bench. She could sense William at her side. Part of her regretted burdening him and Gene with her company and having to care for her. But she knew once she recovered that being as close to William as possible was important—to know his fate and the results of their attempt to get Edward Gardiner home was imperative.
The ship still rattled, but it seemed quieter when she finally deigned to open her eyes and shift her body. William sat in a chair next to her, a hand on the bench's edge as if to catch her. Inside, warmth bubbled as if she had swallowed champagne which fizzled and rose and thawed. Love swept through her forcefully. A love that had been ignited years in the past, one that had faltered (as he admitted his had faltered), but like fire often does, it came roaring back to life when in contact with the appropriate kindling. Whatever happened, there would be no regrets.
She realized how much she hadn't wanted him to leave before. How much she had not wanted change or risk. But with time came growth. Elizabeth could part with him at this juncture and accept that she might never see him again. She had the mental and even the moral power and courage to carry on even if he didn't return. Years of blinding herself against knowing or caring about her fellow Baker Street inhabitants wasn't the track she wanted to follow any longer. She must regard and be concerned about her colleagues, countrymen, and women just as she must cherish her family and love William.
Internal strength calmed her head and stomach, and she pushed herself up. The action woke her beloved.
"Are you well? Feel better?" he whispered. The room was dark, except for a few safety lights.
"Yes," she whispered in return. "I love you. I want to marry you." Whatever he expected, it wasn't that. She heard him slip off his chair to kneel beside her. She could sense him close as he leaned over to place a soft kiss on her cheek.
"I will make sure to come back," he murmured in her ear as a hand snaked across her waist to hold her before he pressed a cheek against hers. Elizabeth pushed herself up more; William pulled away slightly, then leaned in, his other hand at her back, a hand at her neck to steady her. Their lips met with a thirst for contact and communication, not with words, but with nibbles and licks. He held her firm as the kiss continued without end despite others in the deckhouse, possibly sleeping, possibly awake and listening.
"Come back to me soon," she finally said, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. He demanded another kiss, his hands moving freely, a little wildly, before he pulled away and sat up, retaking his chair. Elizabeth lay back down but reached out and found his hand. She fell asleep again with their fingers entwined.
It seemed impossible that she could ever feel hunger, but her stomach gnawed as grayness crept inside to overtake the dark. People roused; moans came from one corner when a man woke, noisy in the process. The ship still rocked, but it no longer made her feel sick. Elizabeth sat up, blinking sand from her eyes. William didn't stir in his chair. She looked out the window, but only a gray mist was visible. It was impossible to tell how close to Lerwick they were.
Pulling her feet down, she sat up completely; her head no longer swam. Now she wondered if the land would make her dizzy. She watched as the heavy grayness inside lightened, slowly illuminating William's features. His broad forehead, eased of any lines as sleep erased his worries. A few wrinkles creased the skin next to his closed eyes; she didn't recall him having them before—a sign of his difficulties and experiences these past years. Elizabeth no longer felt that everything he suffered was her fault. The skin on his cheeks was still smooth, but stubble already darkened his jaw and upper lip despite shaving that morning—a product of his heritage. The nose was broad at the base, but overall long and lean. Not English, but not Greek either.
More light brightened the room and gave a radiance to his lips. Not too full or thin, slightly darker than his skin, even in size, very kissable. She watched as he rubbed them together, then his tongue darted out to lick his upper lip as if he were thirsty. Her instinct was to kiss them; instead, she looked up and watched him blink open his eyes. The dark color was no longer an enemy but an attachment, an ally. The wrinkles beside those dark pools deepened in love when he discovered she was looking at him. William sat up from his awkward position without losing contact.
"We should arrive soon if the sun is rising. We're to dock just after seven; sunrise is just before," he said. She nodded.
They turned their attention outward; the other people who shared that space were busy with bags and waking sounds. Gene Carter looked watchful in a chair about ten feet away. The hum of the ship's engines changed, and the rattling slowed. Hats and gloves were pulled on as most people made their way to the outside deck to watch the ship dock. The cold misty air parted, and gray buildings surged suddenly out of the gloom, though lifeless in the early morning light. Here and there were a few whitewashed ones that gave color to the gray landscape. Elizabeth clung to the railing as the ship rumbled and then shook and slowed to a crawl; sailors scrambled both on ship and wharf.
The locals waited impatiently for the chain to be drawn back and surged forward over the gangplank. William, Elizabeth, and Eugene followed. A man stood at the quays end; there was something of the soldier about him even though he wore civilian clothes.
"Major Darcy, I'm Rogers," he said, reaching out a hand. William shook it.
"Mrs. Darcy and Captain Carter," William introduced.
"Colonel Rogers," their contact said and shook hands with both of them. "This way. I suggest we wait to feed you until you arrive in Scalloway. Always best to limit being seen, if possible, a matter of five miles."
The drive seemed to take forever; a fog clung to the ground, and the Colonel was fastidious as he drove. He didn't take them to a pub or café but pulled up in front of a detached cottage. It was at the end of a long road, and the only house located on the road, though it wasn't lonely-looking. The cottage had two stories with shuttered windows peeking out below a sloped roof, and though it was built of the same gray as those harbor buildings, it wasn't ugly. Trailing rose vines grew along its face on either side of the doorway; the canes grew together the way vines did, in gnarled twists. It was probably stunning in the summer when in bloom, but in February, it was bare without even buds to hint at new growth.
The difference as soon as they stepped inside the door was significant; it was warm, and the smells reminded Elizabeth of her hunger. Hats and coats were taken, and she heard giggling—that seemed out of place for a Special Operations mission.
"Bea, we're back," the colonel called.
"Welcome!" sang a voice, and a petite, elegant woman bustled into sight down a hallway, walking up to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Darcy, I'm so glad to meet you. Bea Rogers." She turned to William. "Major," then to Gene, "Captain, welcome. Breakfast is ready." Mrs. Rogers then rushed away.
Her haste was explained when they walked into the dining room; a small boy sat on the floor playing with a toy boat. Elizabeth wasn't good at guessing children's ages; she could only assume that he was less than four. The child was secure in his environment as three strangers invading the room didn't startle him, but he continued to play near one of the windows. The table was set, and they all sat down to eat.
This was a place where plans could be discussed. Bea Rogers was also a member of SOE and had clearances. Her husband oversaw all operations in Shetland, and Beatrice provided support and cover for their story of a couple with means living on the main island. She claimed ancestry from the island, though her family now lived in Aberdeen.
John Rogers had updated information to pass on. The prisoners were to be transported on Sunday and due on board a waiting ship in Bergen by the end of the day on Tuesday. A parallel SOE mission was to occur in Norway by another team soon. If their mission wasn't wrapped up by Tuesday, they would need to scrap it in favor of one with a higher priority. What wasn't yet known was the route the Germans would take out of Alesund: whether they would risk shorter, but snow-covered roads, or take interior roads that were less likely to be treacherous.
The juxtaposition of planning such a raid while eating a full English breakfast on bone china didn't escape Elizabeth's notice, but such a scenario somehow seemed to fit the SOE method. The Brigadier came to mind, with his motto of work hard and play hard. The Rogers' son, Michael, grew bored with his boat and toddled over to the table. His mother lifted him onto her lap, and he ate bites of sausage from her plate while his father and the visitors spoke about a lightning raid into Norway. Elizabeth wondered what stories they would tell him after the war, what he overheard but didn't understand.
Mick was passed to his father when Bea escorted her guests upstairs to their rooms. The cottage was larger inside than it appeared, a home with elegant furnishings that Elizabeth attributed to its mistress. She turned off the stairs to open a door into a large bedroom at the house's back.
"This is for you, Major and Mrs. Darcy. The bath is there; it's shared with Captain Carter's room." She turned back into the upstairs hall, and Gene followed her to his room. Elizabeth stepped inside with William next to her. She thought it was even larger than her parents' room at home with multiple windows and doors. The cottage deceived about its size with wings at the back.
Turning, she asked, "but shall you get to sleep before you leave?" Elizabeth knew that the Shetland Bus left at night, using the cover of darkness as part of its disguise.
"No," he answered, putting their cases down beside the door. "Come," he held out a hand. She took it, and he pulled her close, leaning down for a kiss that heated her thoroughly (though the room was warm). Without winter coats to impede their hands, they roamed under jacket or cardigan, over hips or down legs as they took a respite from planning.
"Aren't we supposed to be unpacking?" she finally asked.
"Yes," he reluctantly agreed.
The first door led into the bath, a door on its end must lead to Gene Carter's room. A second opened into a closet, and the two unpacked their clothes, storing smaller items in a dresser. It was oddly domestic, and yet danger waited for William. Elizabeth washed her face and hands in the bathroom. After he left, she would have plenty of time to bathe and wash her hair. Another round of kissing had her protest that she would need to brush her hair again. William swept his hands through her locks, which send electric thrills from her scalp to her toes. The kiss that followed made her feel just as light-headed as when she had been on the boat.
"Minx. I need to meet Rogers and Carter," he said, stepping away.
"Go," she said. "I'll be down in a minute." He immediately walked out without turning; Elizabeth quickly brushed her hair, then rushed downstairs. The men had pulled on their coats and stood at the front door. She watched them walk out with only a brief wave.
A/N: This chapter is for anyone who's taken a ferry or channel crossing and been hit with mal de mer, especially if you didn't realize you didn't have sea legs.
On the Crash Landing on You front, Ri Jeong Hyeok who has taken a bullet for Yoon Se-Ri, escaped from the hospital before fully recovered, then traveled on foot, in the dark, through a snowstorm on Christmas Eve to save her from the clutches of her slightly villainous ex (who has just proposed so he can fly her back home to South Korea). I'm just dying. (Update: there's a tune that figures into the story, far better than I ever did with Naughty Elisabetta, and I've spent the past hour crying through this damn episode.)
