Ten: Farewells

Oh Lord… He felt sick to the pit of his stomach as her eyes refused to meet his. Mr Brocklehurst, in a rare moment of frivolity, laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us, Mr Hornblower?" He exclaimed. Horatio swallowed hard, lowering his eyes to his buckle shoes. Clearing his throat to gather his thoughts, he said:

"Congratulations, Miss Brocklehurst. I hope you are very happy." There was no reply from Elizabeth. What reply could she give? He felt as if she had torn his heart from his chest and shown it to him. His gut gave an extra twist. How could this have happened so soon? He swore he could still taste her lips on his, feel her silken hair around his fingers. Elizabeth dipped a curtsey.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen." She whispered, her voice barely audible. Was she ashamed because she had led him on? Or was she grieving too? Horatio forced himself to look away. Women had never been good news… Mr Brocklehurst was talking with Admiral Pellew about the coming arrangements, but Horatio just wanted to leave – he felt suffocated by the prim chairs and stiflingly neat room. It all seemed so… pretentious. It was one big act; the world a stage and people the players… Shakespeare. Had he been spurned too, when he wrote it? Did he feel the same desolate emptiness that welled inside Horatio, the frustration at the falseness of it all? Damn you, he thought to Elizabeth. Damn you!

She was to be married. To the Earl of… wherever it was. Horatio didn't care. She was to be Mrs Daniel Minton, and that in itself killed him. Minton was far better than he – a mere captain of a sloop. He could give her nothing, and the Earl could give her everything. It was an ideal match. He could begrudge her nothing.

"Daniel was Henry's friend, of course. Never deemed to serve in the navy." Mr Brocklehurst chuckled. "No, it was the military for Daniel Minton. Great man… perfect for my Elizabeth. Of course, it was I that deemed the match suitable. For all her fair features, my daughter has a somewhat… liberal disposition." The man smirked at this. "Love her as I do, I cannot help but worry for her. You remember Victoria Taylor? Well, apparently, she is still unwell, and Elizabeth wishes to visit her next week. Of course, I had to put my foot down – with the wedding pending, I couldn't allow her to gallivant across the country. Daniel is very conservative, and he needs a good, homely wife. Such expeditions are no good." Horatio could bear no more of the inane babble, and left abruptly, not even considering to take his leave. Pellew looked briefly upset, but said quietly to Mr Brocklehurst:

"Mr Hornblower has experienced a poor few journeys across the channel – he's not quite himself. You will excuse him." Horatio didn't care what Mr Brocklehurst thought of his abrupt temperament. He made his way to the garden, hoping for a respite. It was not to be. Elizabeth sat on the edge of the extravagant fountain, trailing a finger in the water. Her face was turned away from him, but even the sight of the back of her head pained him. He turned to leave, unnoticed.

"Don't go." He jumped. She hadn't even looked around, but now she did, standing and twisting her fingers around one another awkwardly. "I need to explain."

"There is nothing to explain, Miss Brocklehurst." He bowed, and made to leave again.

"I'm sorry, Horatio." His name felt like a dagger in his ribs, and he shut his eyes, face turned away so as not to show his anguish. "If I could change this, I would. I wanted to tell you… but you were away and I could send no word without my father… oh, Horatio, please look at me." She sounded stricken as she laid a hand on his arm. He looked down at the pale, freckly face he loved so completely. She was crying, and it took all his will to force down the burning tears. "I wish it were you."

"As do I." He murmured. Her bottom lip trembled as he reached up and wiped away a tear from her cheek.

"Horatio…" He wanted to kiss her. But she was engaged. He took a step back. "Oh Lord, if I could change this… Daniel is nothing compared to you. I hated him when he was my brother's friend and I still loathe him now. More so, if it were possible, because it means I can't be with you. The one thing I want in all the world…" Her voice cracked, and she looked away, taking a deep breath.

"I should go." He provided, already stepping towards the house.

"When do you next sail?" She asked desperately. He paused.

"Two days."

"Then come again." Horatio managed a smile. "Please."

"You couldn't keep me away." She smiled then. A shaky, unsure smile. He reached out and kissed her hand. There could be no more words said. It was done. And Elizabeth could see Horatio already distancing himself from her. She loved him. She had from the moment she had seen him – despite his apparent haughtiness – and now she was losing him. Almost as soon as she had found him. It was too much to bear. He wouldn't come.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Horatio." Bush nodded, indicating to someone behind the captain. Horatio turned, and saw Elizabeth. His whole body jolted at the sighted of her again. She was more beautiful than before. She smiled slightly at him.

"Mr Hornblower." She said quietly.

"Miss Brocklehurst." He bowed. "How can I help you?"

"You never visited." She ignored his question. Clearing his throat, Bush made his exit. "Why?"

"I…" Her eyes. Those adorable, bright eyes. The eyes of an angel. But they were gone now. Dulled, wistful and jaded. It pained him to see it. "I couldn't bear saying goodbye."

"Then I will not prolong this farewell." She stepped forward, holding out a hand. "For you." He let her drop the object into his palm. A locket of silver, the ornate plate hanging from the chain had a sapphire set in the middle. It was small, delicate and elegant. Just like Elizabeth. "Perhaps you may remember me still, Horatio." She managed another quick smile before she turned to leave.

"Wait." Thinking quickly, he took a button from his coat, the navy threads hanging forlornly. "Then perhaps you may remember me." He handed it to her, and she turned it over between her fingers. A gold button, with the navy crest on it. She looked at him, eyes briefly alight with gratitude.

"I need no token to remember you. I won't ever forget." With that, she left. It would probably be the last he ever saw of her, and made sure it was burned into his memory. He would treasure that image.

Bush nodded to his coat as Horatio boarded the Hotspur.

"You've lost a button Horatio."

"It must have knocked off, William." The captain replied repressively, and his lieutenant smirked. Horatio could feel the locket around his neck, the pendant pressing against the hollow of his collarbone. "Set a course for Brest, if you would, Mr Bush." He announced confidently, looking at the open sea beyond the mouth of the harbour. Freedom. Never did it look so unfriendly and lonely.