A/N: Thanks as always to my betas thegladelf and mryddinwilt. captainswanandclintasha has made yet another gorgeous picset for chapters 11 and 12. Do check it out on tumblr! And now to the chapter...
Admiral Nemo stayed for a fortnight at the Abbey. Captain Jones had planned several schemes to entertain his friend during his short sojourn. The ladies of Arendell Cottage, along with some other friends of the captain, took part in many of the entertainments.
During an early morning exploring party to a scenic spot on a hill, Admiral Nemo happened to catch Emma when she was a little behind the others as they trekked up a gentle slope. After making some casual remark, he said in a graver tone, "Miss Emma, if Killian has shared even a small part of his past with you, you must know that he has seen a great deal of loss."
Emma nodded dumbly, her heart rate speeding up a little.
"You see—the navy has been a refuge for him to escape the demons hounding at his heels. But it's no place to build a new life." The admiral gave a small self-deprecatory laugh. "And Killian has come to realize that."
Emma's eyes strayed to where Captain Jones was standing some ways ahead, his profile silhouetted in the mist.
Admiral Nemo paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. "And I know the one thing he craves most of all."
"What is that?" Emma asked in a whisper, meeting the admiral's eyes.
"Family."
"Oh."
"I haven't seen Killian so cheerful and hopeful in years—not since his early days as a lieutenant." Admiral Nemo paused for a breath. "But he's too much of a gentleman to proceed without at least a little bit of encouragement."
Emma's color rose.
Admiral Nemo glanced at Captain Jones with an affectionate smile. "My greatest wish for him is that he gets a second chance for a family and domestic life, and for which, in my partial opinion, he is extremely fitted for."
And giving Emma an affable smile, Admiral Nemo walked on.
At first Emma half-felt offended at the admiral's hint, but some minutes of reflection made her feel the justice of his remarks. She had been so bent on protecting her own heart, that she had not really thought about the other side of the equation. She had assumed that if the captain was truly interested in her, he would show it plainly. But she was not the only one who had been hurt in the past. And being aware of her own recent heartbreak, Captain Jones was not the kind of man to push his suit forward unless she gave him a reason to do so.
A short while later, when Captain Jones reached out to help her up a steep inclination, Emma could not help feeling that she was taking a decisive step as she smiled at him and placed her hand in his.
Captain Jones had arranged for a picnic on the Abbey grounds on the day before the admiral's departure. The captain was at the door of the Abbey to meet Emma, Mary Margaret, and Ingrid—each with parasol in hand—and escorted them to a pond. Admiral Nemo, Belle, and Mr. Scarlett were on the shore, fishing.
Mary Margaret decided to try her hand at fishing, and picking up some tackle, she joined the others. Ingrid stretched out on one of the numerous blankets spread out on the ground and took out a book. Emma picked up a book as well, but stood watching the others fish for a few minutes. After making sure that his guests were supplied with what they needed, Captain Jones sat down in front of an easel with a piece of parchment spread out on it and picked up a pencil.
Emma approached him, a delicate flutter in her heart. She had been pondering over Admiral Nemo's hint over the course of the last few days. While she was not ready to admit that she positively desired the captain's addresses, she did know that her heart was beginning to feel a strong inclination for his company.
"Did they teach you to draw in the Royal Navy, Captain?" she teased. "In between music lessons and battle strategies?"
The captain twinkled at her. "The Naval education is surprisingly comprehensive."
"Would you mind if I kept you company for a while?" said Emma. "Or would I be intruding?"
"You will not be intruding in the least!" he assured her, looking pleased. He gestured at his sketch. "I'm having a deal of trouble with the shading, and would welcome a diversion."
Emma gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Is that all I am good for? As a diversion?"
Captain Jones arched his brows. "It does not follow that the diversion is an unwelcome one."
"I'm glad to hear it." Emma grinned. "May I see what you're drawing?" From her vantage point, she could just barely discern a hazy outline of the scene before them beginning to take shape.
"I would rather you looked at the finished product." He tilted his head and gave her a small smile. "No amateur likes his art being critiqued in its nascent state."
"I beg your pardon," said Emma, smiling and stepping aside. She sat down on a blanket close to him. "But I could hardly help sneaking a peek at a masterpiece when it was right before my eyes."
"I do not blame you." He smirked and gestured at himself. "I'm much too dashing to ignore."
Emma pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. "You, sir, think a little too highly of yourself!"
"That is part of my charm."
Emma smiled and rolled her eyes, a delicate blush covering her cheeks. She felt a little surprised at her own boldness in teasing the captain, but found herself enjoying his flirtatious response. She sat for some moments observing the beauty of the pond. Shafts of light escaped scudding clouds overhead and danced across the glimmering surface of the waters. Two swans were swimming at the other end, their graceful long necks twining in a sort of delicate dance. This was certainly a very picturesque scene. Emma could see why Captain Jones had been tempted to capture it.
"I wonder if those are the same swans we saw last year," Emma wondered aloud.
Captain Jones threw her an amused glance. "They could be. Swans mate for life, you know?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Soon, there may be more baby swans for you to rescue, Miss Emma."
Emma huffed out a laugh. She opened her book, but the page did not hold her attention. From where she sat, she commanded a full view of Captain Jones as he worked. There was grace and strength in arm as his fingers flew across the paper. The warm afternoon sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy above cast delicate patterns on his face, highlighting the ginger tint in his stubble. He blinked his eyes and frowned in concentration. Emma noticed how long and dark his eyelashes were as they fluttered against his cheeks. An errant lock of hair escaped its brethren and fell across his forehead. Emma felt an overwhelming urge to straighten it. Edging away from the dangerous train of thought, she dropped her gaze lower. Captain Jones had taken off his coat and loosened his neck cloth. The top two buttons of his shirt had come undone, a few dark curls peeking through the gap. At that moment, the man himself looked up and met her eyes. Emma turned brick red and quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed at having been caught staring.
Emma was now beginning to better understand Captain Jones's disposition. The last two weeks had revealed a new side of the captain that had been hidden from her hitherto. In his interactions with the admiral, he seemed much younger, and in a sense more open and vulnerable. It made him appear less like the remote and reserved sailor she had perceived him to be. He was a man of deep thoughts and feelings, which in turn made him not an easy man to get to know. However, the friendship and respect that was evident between himself and Admiral Nemo spoke to the strong bonds Captain Jones was capable of forming with other people. Even the present Mrs. Gould—who perhaps had as much a reason as Neal to dislike the captain—liked and respected him.
Wanting to know more about him, she hesitantly began, "Captain Jones. May I ask you something?"
"Should I be prepared for an unpleasant conversation?" He gave an arch look that made Emma's stomach do a little flip.
Ingrid had fallen asleep, and the others were too immersed in their activities to hear them, but still, Emma lowered her voice a little and asked, "Did you join the navy because of your brother?"
Captain Jones was silent for a few moments. "That wasn't the original plan," he said, at last. "My brother had gone into service when he was fourteen, but my mother didn't want to be parted from both her sons, so I stayed behind."
"What happened?"
"She died when I was twelve. Liam was away at sea at the time and couldn't come back for the funeral. We got a letter from him saying that his ship would be docking at Portsmouth in a month's time. My father took me there, ostensibly to welcome Liam home." Captain Jones gestured helplessly. "A week later, he abandoned me at a tavern and took off, God knows where."
"How terrible!" Emma cried, shocked out of politeness.
Captain Jones grimaced.
"He'd started drinking heavily after my mother died and gotten into debt. He ran to escape his creditors, and I suppose he didn't want to be saddled with another mouth to feed," he replied with a careless shrug that was belied by the dark flash in his eyes. "I waited for days for my father to return, before finally realizing that he was not coming back. The tavern owner took pity on me and let me sleep on the premises. That's where Liam found me when he landed in Portsmouth two weeks later."
"Your brother must have been so distressed!" said Emma.
"He was devastated. He couldn't be there for our mother's last days, and now my father had saddled him with the responsibility of taking care of me, though Liam never spoke of it that way." Captain Jones shrugged and continued his pencil strokes. "His captain was willing to take me on as a ship's boy, and I was only too happy to be with my brother."
Emma nodded in understanding. The death of their parents and all the heartbreak she and Mary Margaret had faced would have been a hundred times worse if they had not had each other.
"Did you ever see your father after that?"
"No. When I returned to England in '11, I heard that he'd died in a debtor's prison up north."
What could one say in reply to that?
The captain continued, "Naval service was no sinecure, I admit, but it wasn't terrible. Being with my brother gave me the strength to get through the rough patches. We were very lucky to not be separated as we advanced through the ranks." Captain Jones smiled. "It was the proudest moment of my life when Liam was made a captain and I got to serve as a lieutenant under his command."
Emma smiled at the wistful expression on Captain Jones's face. She could see through the hardened naval captain to the proud young lieutenant who had idolized his older brother. He had so much passion for the sea life, Emma could not understand why he would willingly stay away now.
"How can you bear living in the country?" she wondered aloud.
Killian smiled crookedly. "Does this seem an irreconcilable contrast to my naval life?"
"Honestly, it does! You have lived a fascinating life. Doesn't managing a country estate seem dull to you in comparison?"
Captain Jones tapped his pencil against the paper. "After I was sent to the Indies, I lost myself to darkness for a period. At times, I didn't know if I believed in God or the devil more. Then Robert Gould died, and I was left with nothing." He paused, frowning down at his lap with unseeing eyes. Emma could not help connecting this explanation to his emotional reaction to the lines of "Amazing Grace" the other night. He continued after a few moments, "I suppose I needed an object, and taking on the management of the estate seemed as good a venture as anything. In a way, it felt like a fitting revenge to make a success out of something Gould had ruined. Besides, I wanted to give a home to Wendy. I think all of this helped me turn away from the self-indulgent thoughts of vengeance I had been nurturing."
Emma's expression sobered, thinking of the poor girl and her infant child. She awkwardly enquired after them. After assuring her of their welfare, Captain Jones added, "I would dearly love to bring her and her child back to the Abbey, but I do not know how that can be done without exposing her to unpleasant talk and worse in the neighborhood."
Emma shook her head in commiseration. Society was only too apt to punish women severely for stepping outside of accepted norms, while men usually got away with everything. Her thoughts flew to Neal Cassidy. She wondered how his married life was turning out. Did he spare a thought to the girl whose prospects he had blighted?
Servants appeared carrying tables, tablecloths and napkins, cutlery, and a variety of refreshing food and drink. Soon, all the party were collected by the tables, chattering and filling their plates with pie, cucumber sandwiches, blueberries, cut slices of peaches, and rolls. After the al fresco meal, Emma exchanged places with Mary Margaret with the fishing pole. The admiral kindly instructed her in proper fishing techniques, and soon Emma was enjoying herself immensely. This was certainly a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon. The scratch of the captain's pencil across the sheet of paper coming from behind harmonized with the rustle of leaves, bird calls, the splash of the fishing lines hitting the water, and the occasion yell of triumph at a successful bite.
Soon, it was time to return home. The fishing gear and blankets were placed in carts for the servants to collect. Captain Jones folded up his easel and started to roll up his drawing.
"Wait," said Emma. Pointing to the paper, she asked, "May I?"
Captain Jones hesitated a moment, and then handed it to her. She felt his gaze as she unrolled the sheet and took in the scene depicted on it. It was the same sketch she had seen the hazy beginnings of earlier that afternoon; it was very nearly finished now. The interplay of light and shadow on the waters had been brought to life with expert shading; the two swans were depicted in the background, their arched necks meeting at their beaks to form the shape of a heart. Delicate strokes filled in the grass and trees edging the pond. But there was an unexpected addition in the foreground—a representation of herself, fishing. Her face was in profile, half-turned to the water, her bonnet on the ground to one side. Captain Jones had deviated on one point from a faithful portrayal—her hair, instead of being pinned up into a neat bun as it actually was, cascaded down her back in waves, and yet pushed to one side just enough to grant a fleeting glimpse of the delicate curve of her neck. Emma raised startled eyes to the captain, heart thudding furiously in her chest.
"Have I offended you, Miss Emma?" Captain Jones asked, looking searchingly at her.
Emma shook her head, utterly unable to say a word.
"That's alright, then." He gave a mischievous smile and gently pried the sheet of paper from her hand. "I would have despaired otherwise."
Emma's eyes fluttered. She quickly turned away and fastened her bonnet, her cheeks aglow.
Without comment, Captain Jones finished rolling up his drawing. He was delayed by Mr. Scarlett, who stopped to consult him over something.
The other ladies had walked on and Emma hastened to follow them. Ingrid and Mary Margaret were mostly silent in the ride home, for which Emma was thankful. She could think of nothing but Captain Jones's drawing and her conversation with him.
Emma could not help feeling a little melancholy in thinking that the frequency of her meetings with Captain Jones would decrease now that Admiral Nemo had departed. However, an event soon occurred that pushed all self-indulgent thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused her attention on her sister. Mrs. Lucas sent a note one morning, along with a letter addressed to herself. Ingrid opened the note and skimmed through it. Her expression immediately turned grave. She gave a quick glance at Mary Margaret, then at Emma.
Emma and Mary Margaret set down their work.
"What is it, cousin?" Mary Margaret asked. "Is it bad news?"
"Mrs. Lucas has received a letter from her cousin, Miss West." Ingrid paused, grimaced, and continued, "I should say, rather, Mrs. Spencer. For apparently, she is married now."
Emma gave a start and her eyes quickly flicked to her sister. She saw the blood drain from Mary Margaret's face and she swayed in her seat. Emma rushed to her sister's side and placed an arm around her shoulders. Ingrid poured out a glass of water and brought it to her.
"I'm so sorry, my dear," she said soothingly, as she sat down on Mary Margaret's other side.
Mary Margaret took a few sips of water and soon recovered some of her color.
Emma craned her neck a little to look at Ingrid. "Does Mrs. Lucas know for sure? Could you read Kelly's letter, cousin?"
Ingrid unfolded the letter Mrs. Lucas had enclosed with her note and opened it. She read aloud. "'My dear Mrs. Lucas, It gives me great joy to inform you that I am now married. You have always been so kind to me, that I felt it to be my duty to write to you immediately.'" Emma sucked in a sharp breath. Mary Margaret remained silent. Ingrid continued. "'Mr. Spencer and I are on our way to Plymouth for our honeymoon. We hope to pay our respects to you at Misthaven shortly.' The next section of the letter contains details about the wedding and more effusions in praise of Mrs. Lucas." Ingrid paused and raised her eyes to meet Emma's and Mary Margaret's. "There is a message for you two in the postscript."
Emma seethed. "Of course there is. She probably wrote to Mrs. Lucas on purpose knowing she would show us the letter."
Ingrid read on. "'Kindly convey my best regards to Miss Blanchard and Miss Emma. I am sure they will be happy on hearing this news.'"
Mary Margaret abruptly stood up. "I would like to be alone for some time," she said, without meeting their eyes. She ran up the stairs and the bedroom door banged shut. Feeling sick to the stomach herself, Emma stared helplessly at Ingrid. Through all the difficult times they had been through over the course of the past twelve months, Mary Margaret had always been the stronger one of the two. The elder sister who had soothed and comforted her in her unhappiness and supported her when she had been angry or upset. Too preoccupied with her own heartbreak, Emma hadn't realized that Mary Margaret's sufferings had been as bad as hers or perhaps, worse, as David was certainly worthy of regret, unlike Neal Cassidy.
"Give her time, my dear," said Ingrid, patting her shoulder. "Even if the marriage is something she has been expecting, the first intimation of it was bound to be a shock."
"I suppose neither of us expected that they would marry this soon," said Emma, still in a daze. "I had no notion but they would wait for David to get settled in as the rector here."
Ingrid shook her head in sympathy. "From what you've let fall about this woman, she seems the kind of person who would be quick to consolidate her advantageous position."
Emma had long forgiven David for his secrecy and deception over his engagement to Kelly West. Time and distance had enabled her to see his mistakes in a much softer light. Even if he had not behaved in a strictly proper manner when it came to Mary Margaret, he was no rake. He had been weak, but he had not meant to sport with Mary Margaret's feelings. That he would face being cut out of his inheritance to stand up for a woman Emma was certain he had stopped caring for staggered her. A different kind of man, when faced with the same situation, would not have stuck to his commitment. But David was too honorable to break the engagement, and Emma pitied him for the lifelong penance he would now have to endure being married to an insincere woman. She could not help feeling that her own life would have turned out even more miserable had she married Neal Cassidy, especially if she became aware of his callous treatment of Wendy Jones, and shuddered at the thought.
After some time, Emma went upstairs with a tea tray and knocked on their bedroom door. "Mary Margaret, I've brought you some tea." Her sister did not reply, but Emma could hear the tiny creak of the bed as she moved. "I'll leave it outside."
Leaving the tray to the right of the door, Emma slowly went downstairs, her heart aching for her sister.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts. :-)