"Felicity! 'Tis I, your Reggie! Do unbolt the door!"
Felicity sighed and sagged. Lettie raised her turbaned head and whispered, "Sit. I will get the door."
When Lettie unlocked the jib door, Felicity made damn sure the tea cup was up to her lips in case Reginald came rushing in at her in any wild attempts to hug and kiss her. And rush at her he did, although he stopped just short of tripping and falling over her in his haste to get to her side.
"Oh Felicity, I am truly sorry!" he moaned, clasping her closest arm in both of his thin white hands, for both of her hands were occupied by cup and saucer. "I have insisted that Tristan leave, but he will not, because he and his father want to take the house and the company from me, and make it into something akin to a shipping business, and I-"
"You mean they want to change a slaving company into a shipping company?" Felicity interrupted, looking amused by that.
"Yes. It would appear slaving is going out of vogue."
Aye, and YOU are going out of business, thought Felicity triumphantly. "Well, I cannot say that is a bad thing," she told him mindfully. "But they are being bullies about it. What are you going to do about keeping me safe from Tristan?" She had made a point of trying to sound like a spoiled, helpless female, for that tended to distract him from suspicion.
Lettie was listening intently.
Reginald sighed shakily. "my dear, I do not know. I can remove you to my townhouse in Queen's Square, but tristan knows of it. Still, though, if he insists on making himslef a resident here, 'twould be safer for you if you were away."
"Indeed!"
He patted her shoulder as if he believed himself to be the sole provider of her reassurance. "I shall make the arrangements for our departure into town today. Perhaps...you should...in the meantime..."
"Stay out of sight?" Felicity suggested, wanting to laugh inside herself, hoping that was the correct idea.
"Yes," sighed Reginald miserably. He wiped his forehead stressfully, then suddenly perked up. "You could remain in my bedchamber until we can leave."
"Reginald, really!" Felicity exclaimed, employing a great deal of exaggerated offensiveness. "How could you even think of intimacy at a time like this? And especially after the fright Tristan has given me today!"
"Yes, yes, indeed you are right." Forsythe drooped again, disappointedly. "He is out to ruin everything for us. But I will not let him. There is always a way." He gulped nervously. "About what he said, concerning Lucille and I..."
"He is trying to make you look evil, that is all," Felicity told him, as if she did not believe a word of what was said about him pushing the late governess down the stairs to her death. She most in fact did believe it, and as horrible as it was, she was not surprised. But now was not the time to lose focus. Felicity was aware that keeping Reginald convinced that she was 'on his side' was imperative to getting out of here. As long as he was distracted by his cousin's troubling presence, she and Lettie could look for opportunities. "You simply could not do such a thing to someone you loved so much!"
"Oh thank goodness you did not believe him, Felicity, for I do not know what I would do if I were to lose this new trust we have!" Reginald rose from her side and breathed deep. "Now do excuse me, my dear, I have arrangements to make, my lawyer to send for, and a very relentless uncle to bandy words with some more. I shall look in on you later."
Through gritted teeth and feigned civility Felicity said, "How lovely."
He bent to kiss her cheek, bowed, then spun on his abnormally high heel to exit the room. When he was gone, Lettie resecured the door, then turned to Felicity.
"Well done."
"Thank you, Lettie." She lowered the cup and saucer to her lap. "I hate being civil to him. Ugh! We have got to get away from here!"
Lettie nodded in grim agreement, moved over to a nearby chair and sat down slowly, hands limp in her lap. "Yes. And soon. I know Tristan Forsythe. When he wants something, he will go to extremes." She looked as if she could throw up having said that.
"The whole family is like that!" Felicity exclaimed angrily. "Reginald went to extremes to get me here, his Uncle Fletcher is doing everything he can to obtain the manor and the company- not that I give a fig-pudding about that- and now Tristan seems so determined to...well, you know. Part of me thinks if I leave here to go to this Queen's square-place, he will come there, too, or try to intercept our carriage along the way, or..." She sighed heavily. "Only the Lord knows what! Evil men think in ways that good men do not."
Lettie nodded again in agreement, but added skeptically, "I have yet to meet any of these 'good men'."
Instantly Felicity wanted to blurt out My father is a good man! And Ben is... But she held her peace, for Lettie did not trust white men any further than they could be thrown, and with good reason. And Ben Davidson? Felicity wanted to bitterly say Ben is a good man when he believes me and has faith in me, but the severe heartbreak that always threatened to do her more harm than anything Reginald Forsythe could do was always waiting for a chance to overwhelm her. As of now, she could not speak of Ben without shattering completely. Tears welled up so fast that she had to wipe them away in haste roughly. Lettie was looking downward, quietly contemplating, so Felicity did not have to explain away her emotional anguish.
But she knew in her broken, weary heart that she was going to have to confront her pain eventually, head on, and she was dreading it more than anything.
Later that evening Reginald came to eat supper with her at the little white tripod table, and to tell her ever so gloomily that they could not leave for town because of the rain. Indeed it had begun to rain; a cold, steady winter rain occasionally mixed with a few snow flurries. The road into Bristol was bad enough with all of its bumps and jolts, making a cariage ride hard to bear even without adding the mud and pools of standing water to it.
Just before bed Lettie was summoned by another slave accompanied by Madame Helga to go down to the slave quarters and tend to a young girl who had fallen ill and had asked specifically for Lettie. Felicity understood this well, for Lettie was the only one of the slave women who could speak both Ebglish and their native tongue. The girl had not learned good English yet, so it was mostly up to Lettie to translate. Felicity decided to go with Lettie instead of being left alone with her thoughts.
This decision surprised Madame Helga, who fussed about a "vite mistress does not attend to ze ill slaves!" but could do nothing about it since Reginald had given Felicity permission to roam about the house with Lettie, who obviously enjoyed the burly Swedish woman's discomfort over it. Felicity had no qualms whatsoever about going down into the slave quarters: if anything, she even strode one step ahead of her companions.
The thin, feverish dark girl could not be any more than twelve, Felicity assumed when she saw her lying on a crude-looking cot in a cormer of the lantern-lit basement. Sections of the basement were partitioned off by linen curtains, giving each woman barely enough room for her cot, washstand and tiny trunk, and even less room for individuality. There was only one fireplace, and a most unfriendly-looking one at that, situated at the opposite end of the room the sick girl was sectioned off in.
Felicity was appalled by all of it.
Naturally, the fifteen other slave women down there were surprised to see the new white mistress of the manor, and even more surprised when she followed without any hesitation whatever instruction Lettie gave her. Like repeatedly fetching basins of water from the manor's indoor pump. Helga stood with her big arms over her big chest and shook her head disapprovingly as she simply stood at the bottom of the stairs going up to the kitchen.
"Der vite mistress, being nicey-nicey vit der slaves! Hrumph! You ist a cuckoo, Missy."
Felicity cast her an irate look on the way upstairs to get yet another bowl of cool water. "For caring about my fellow human being? Fine, then, I ist a cuckoo! Being imprisoned here has made me one!" Then she stomped updtairs with her empty basin in the foulest of moods...
...only to plow right into Tristan Forsythe. 'Twas like he came out of nowhere. Felicity gasped, stumbled backwards, and attempted to turn and flee back downstairs to the slaves' quarters, but Tristan was faster, having anticipated her reactions even before she emerged from the stairway. His left hand went over her mouth and his right shut the door to the stairs amazingly fast.
Also amazingly fast was the way he hauled her into the shadows of the passage between the kitchen and the door to the stairs. Immediately she tried to bite the hand that firmly covered her mouth and nostrils. He whipped her around, shoved her against a wall and used his other hand to clench her throat. with her nose and mouth covered and her neck being squeezed she was forced to stop struggling to get free of him and start struggling to get air.
He put a finger to his crookedly smiling lips, indicating for her to be quiet. "Stop squirming and I will release your breathing passages. Understood?"
She was glaring hatefully at him, her own hands and arms ceasing to push and slap at his. She desperately wanted to get air. Indeed he smelled of strong srink and slight tobacco, and the glint of twisted pleasure in havng her in his ferocious grip once again filled his cold grey eyes.
"Felicity, do you understand me?" he repeated suspiciously, cocking his head and wincing. It would be so easy to squeeze the life right out of her skinny, fragile neck, but he preferred to be savaging it with kisses. "When I release you, you are not to scream, yell, or call for anyone. If you do I shall have to silence you in a very painful way. Do we have an understanding now?"
Still squirming for a breath, she glared as hard as she could at him, but nodded as much as his horrible grip would allow. As soon as he let her go, she wheezed, dropped the big bowl she'd been holding, inhaled, coughed, her own hands flying up to her throat to feel for damage as she fought to regain normal breathing. Tristan watched her as though amused. When she was able to speak again, her voice was strained and weak: "You are not going to get away with this. I will not yield to you, ever."
"I always get what I want, Felicity," he murmured darkly, his eyes looking dark themselves there in the shadows of the passage. "You are no exception."
"Why not?" she asked boldly despite the fact that she was trembling from head to toe.
"Because you are beautiful and unique. Different from other young women. There's just something about you that I cannot put a name to...other than your spiritedness, that is. I knew the moment I set eyes upon you that you were one I had to have."
"Well you will not 'have me,' as you say!" Felicity defied, her fists clenching tight at her sides. "You are disgusting and immoral, and to be forcing yourself upon slaves like my friend Lettie is unforgivable! Is it not terrible enough to take them away from their homes by force and burden them with a life they would have never chosen for themselves? You and your entire family are tyrants!"
Tristan Forsythe could care less about the plight of slaves. he chuckled, shrugged, and said, "so I take it you know very well it is true what I told you about our Reg and Miss Lucille?"
Felicity made an exasperated sound. "It does not surprise me in the least, but I really do not care! I have no loyalty to your Reg or to you, or to anyone else in this Godforsaken house, with the exception of Lettie-"
He was laughing. Softly, and as though he found her words to be merely a comical waste. "Ah yes, that 'Lettie' again. 'Twas her lot to do whatever a white master tells her to do, that is all. She was a fiesty one, just like you. What a pair the two of you are! Reg really is a fool for allowing you two to be thrown together! 'Tis a wonder the whole estate has not been burned down!"
"You had no right to so the horrible things to her that you did! You are pure evil!"
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that from a fiesty female! Well, little hellion, you are no lady, so stop trying to carry on like one." His mood and tone turned serious in a way that made the little hairs on the back of Felicity's neck and on her arms stand up straight. "What attracts me, I shall say, is the fire burning in little tarts like you and the black girl. The willfulness. the airs of determined unavailability. You are unspeakingly just asking for it, and you know it."
"Oh no I'm not! I shall split hell wide open first!"
"Do not fight me, Felicity, you will only make it worse for yourself. You are a Forsythe now, therefore you must submit to it. If not to Reg, then to me. Women were made for men, and therefore never meant to remain virgins."
His loathsome logic enraged her so much that her breathing accelerated greatly. "You are insane! What about nuns, then, hmm? Oh! As if I am going to stand here and listen to any more of the rot that's coming out of your mouth!" She tried to turn and run away in indignation, but the clamp of his hand on the upper part of her nearest arm was so swift and so hard that she yelped uncontrollably.
He pulled her back and pushed her against the wall again, this time keeping her pressed to it by gripping her shoulders and applying his strong pressure. Felicity attempted again to break free by squirming more, but that was useless against someone who's arms were like dungeon bars. she clenched her teeth and hissed, "I will scream if you don't let me go!"
"And if you do scream, I will suffocate you," Tristan replied with icily calm indifference. "You will never see your family again."
Insanity threatened to errupt at the mere mention of her family, so far, far away from her. "Do you really think that threat is going to work on me?" She was the one laughing now; a bitter, half-crazed laugh that was anything but amused. "Reginald had been using it all the time! I know I am never going to see my family again! I would rather die than give myself to you or your ass-cousin! I don't know how many times I have had to repeat myself, but I will continue to until it is understood!"
The crooked smile reappeared on Tristan Forsythe's face. "What if I told you that it would be very possible for you to be with your family gain? That it absolutely can happen?"
Felicity stared hard at him, silent at first. She swallowed with a little difficulty and ventured doubtfully, "I find that hard to believe coming from you. Reginald attempted to sway me with a tale like that, provided I am carrying his offspring in my gut first. But that is never going to happen, and I find it impossible to consider that you or he would ever do anything out of the goodness of your hearts because neither of you have a heart."
He was to the point right away. "I want one night with you."
"Oh I figured it was something like that," Felicity said quickly and sardonically. "You really are no different than your cousin."
"Ah, but unlike Reg, I always keep my word," Tristan told her smoothly. "One night with you, m'lady, and I will put you on the fastest ship to the Colonies there is. You have my word on it. Nothing would please me more than to see my spoiled wretch-of-a-cousin go to pieces over losing his prized-bride, as he is quickly losing everything else." His lusty gaze flicked over her, up and down. "Well, almost nothing would please me more."
Felicity was utterly revolted, of course, and it showed in her angry green eyes. Quite actually, she did believe Tristan would keep his word about sending her home just to spite Reginald, and Reginald would indeed be spited. But the cost? It made her shudder with sickness right down to her very soul! How horrid it would be, to sacrifice herself just so she could be put on a ship to go home disgraced. No doubt, her reputation in Williamsburg was ruined now, anyway. Everyone knew that when women were snatched away it was usually for one reason.
But to be with her family again...
"Listen to me, Felicity," Tristan said unwaveringly. "We can do this the hard way or the 'mutually beneficial' way. Good Heavens, I will even sweeten the deal: Not only do you leave England, but out dear Lettie goes with you."
Her eyes widened in stricken surprise.
"Either way, I will get what I want. I always do. No woman has ever denied me, no woman ever will. Choose wisely, Lady Felicity, for my patience is wearing thin." Seeing that her frightened gaze had slipped to the floor, he added, "You will speak of this arrangement to no one. After all, I could make you suffer horribly. Believe it."
Burning tears began to fill her eyes and her chin quivered uncontrollably with the effort it took to keep what composure she had left. 'Twas do or die, literally. when she found her voice again, it sounded alarmingly small. "Why must you be so evil..."
" 'Evil'?" He chuckled, her anguish meaningless to him. "What you deem to be 'evil,' m'lady, is simply man having his way. Oh, now don't look so concerned. You'll enjoy it."
Oh how she wanted to retch! She could not believe this was truly happening to her, after everything else she had been through thus far. Never in her life had she imagined such things would happen to her! But this nightmare was real, it was truly happening, and now she was faced with a decision that, yes or no, would leave her broken forever. If she lived.
At least if she was home with her family she could die of shame in her own bed.
"Well, Felicity?"
Slowly her eyes rose to meet his, a single tear welling up and over her lower left eyelid to slip down her cheek. She did not recognize the voice that came out of her mouth as being her own, sounding so small and thick and numbed with fatalistic decision: "What you said about Lettie..."
"I meant it." He took her chin between a thumb and finger, seeing as how he no longer needed his hands to keep her pinned to the wall. "Now, do we have a business deal?"
Against her better judgement, against her own heart and mind screaming NO! Felicity slowly nodded, feeling sicker than she had ever felt in her life. A deal with the devil himself, just to be with her family again. A sacrifice of her innocence, her sanity, her self-respect, and bascially her very soul. Not how she envisioned losing her virginity, which ever since she'd been old enough to feel those 'awakenings,' she'd felt it would be claimed by Ben Davidson.
Ben! He hated her now. he believed the very worst of her now. Probably marrried Clarissa Dupre in November, and now Clarissa was most likely already expecting Ben's first child. Those two soul-killing thoughts were a massive blow to her will-power. She could even feel herself getting weaker and weaker. Should've killed myself when I had the chance. Like I had planned all along..
Lettie. Lettie has suffered at the hands of this monster and survived. She will get to go home with me. At least we can comiserate on our ruined lives together. She will be free. Can't just leave her here, I promised... A sob issued from from her throat, making her whole body jerk. She nodded again, unable to utter a 'yes' from her numbed mouth.
"Excellent," murmured Tristan triumphantly, taking hold of her arms, although his grip was less severe than before. He stepped even closer to her and lowered his voice. "You wil come to me in the barn tomorrow night at midnight. I will arrange it so that you slip out of the house without incident. I trust that you will not even speak of our tryst to dear little Lettie?"
Humiliated, Felicity nodded.
"Very good. I will be waiting for you, Felicity. Do not disappoint me, or you and Lettie will pay a very dear price." The crooked smile returned, more smug and victorious than ever. "Now let us seal the bargain with a kiss..."
Her stomach lurched with nausea and dread as her crushed her mouth to his. The rough intrusion of his tongue was completely different from the Ben had done it; this was done with dominating maliciousness. She grunted protestingly, stiffening all over as a natural reaction to something repulsively unwanted. She turned her head away from him quickly just as soon as he pulled back a little, a gesture of utter disgust he found amusing.
"You will not turn away from me tomorrow night," he taunted in his sick playfulness. "Hellion."
She couldn't stand it any longer. She yanked away from him as hard as she could- but only because he allowed her to. She fled into the the kitchen, to the large washing basin and shakily pumped water into it to splash upon her burning face by lantern-light. She wasn't aware of her own quiet crying as she did so. Crying, because a person could only take so much before they cracked under their burdens. Fearfully, she looked back at the dark passageway to see if he still lingered there, but he was gone.
Felicity just wanted to drop to the floor and sob until she died. Her legs felt weak like dried cornstalks, her soul was shaken, and her mind was reeling. But she gripped the rim of the big basin and quieted herself, thinking of Lettie, who had suffered twice as much abuse from him and still wanted to fight back. The thought made Felicity believe that Lettie's people must surely be a strong people, a race of spine-hardened humans who came from a savage land and were accustomed to dealing with other savage creatures.
But the two-legged variety of creatures were often worse than the four-legged.
She moved like the walking dead back to the passageway to retrieve the dropped slaves' basin, remembering numbly that there was a feverish slave girl in need of cool water to be bathed in. No, she would not mention the 'arrangement' to Lettie. Lettie woul never agree to let her go out to Tristan Forsythe. This is for both of us, Lettie, thought Felicity sadly. We can go home. You will be free...I will see to it.
She swiped a forearm across her eyes, struggled to set her face to be as blank as she could manage, and concentrated on getting the big bowl of water back down the stairs without her shaking hands dropping it.
Ben Davidson was seated on the edge of a chair in the Merrimans' parlor, his travel sack laying at his boots. Mr. Cole, Mrs. Cole. Elizabeth and Arthur Pratt had all practically come flying over just as soon as rose had told them Ben had returned from New York and was preparing to leave again, this time for Bristol, England. Mr. Merriman was giving him last-minute instructions, then he would leave for Yorktown and the ship that would bear him across an unpredictable ocean.
Mr. Cole and Mrs. Cole sat together on one two-seater sofa while Mr. and Mrs. Merriman sat together on the other, nearer to Ben. Elizabeth and Arthur sat in chairs close to Elizabeth's parents. The only one who chose to remain standing was Nan Merriman, who's nerves were in such a state that she could not sit and be still for a minute. She stood close to her father in case he needed assistance, glaring at Ben with cold blue eyes that Ben himself dared not meet. He was already sickened by his own guilt enough, and it did indeed show all over his paled, shadowed face.
"Now Ben," Mr. Merriman was saying, "you must be aware of your surroundings at all times once you are off the ship. There are press gangs who will prey upon able-bodied male visitors to force them into the service of the King's navy." He paused, looking heavily worried. "We do not want to lose you, too."
"Hmph!" snorted Nan in a speak-for-yourself manner.
"We have not lost Felicity, sir," Ben said tightly. "We know where she is, and I will get her back."
Mr. Merriman smiled just the slightest bit. He was still recovering from being twice shot, and his healing was slow and ardurous- and that was due to the stress and sadness of having his eldest living child so very far away without knowing whether she was alive and well or not. He walked with a gentleman's cane now, since his side still hurt him even long after the musket balls had been removed. But he was still alive, no doubt in thanks to his loving, attentive wife and the love of a family still clinging to hope, clinging to each other, trusting that Felicity was still alive.
"But Ben," put in Mr. Cole with concern, "these press gangs are not to be taken lightly. 'Tis horrible that the King's nave has been reduced to such behavior! But the Bristol quays can be a strange place for someone who is unaccust-"
"Oh Father!" came Elizabeth's exasperated interruption, for she was at the point of bursting. "Really! Ben cannot possibly go alone, 'tis too dangerous!" She promptly turned to Arthur beside her, nearly dozing off. "Arthur, I absolutely refuse to marry you until you help me and Ben bring Felicity home!"
Gasps and expressions of shock sounded around the room, but none so taken aback than Arthur, who was startled right out of his almost-nap, his posture going rigid. "Wha-huh?" He blinked rapidly. "What d-did you just say, my love?"
"You heard me!" Pretty, pert Elizabeth stood up to address them all, hands on hips. "I am going with Ben to England to get my best friend back, and you, Arthur Pratt, are coming with me!"
"Elizabeth!" exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Cole in shock. Nan and Mrs. Merriman exchanged a surprised look. Ben just looked at her as if he wasn't surprised at all: he did not care who went with him just as long as he went. And he knew that Elizabeth, like himself, was drowning in a sea of torturous guilt. Sitting around doing nothing was the quick path to insanity.
Elizabeth raised her chin. "We all know Ben cannot go alone, so therefore Arthur and I shall accompany him. Mother, Father, you must understand that part of Felicity's being taken was my fault: I reacted in haste. I let my fears get the better of me, and now..." She swallowed with difficulty, the cruel rock of emotion in her throat nearly choking her. "Well, I also go to seek forgiveness from someone who is a chosen sister to me. and Ben needs a guide! Arthur and I know England. Together, the three of us will fare better than one!"
"Beth, dearest," Mrs. Cole began carefully, feeling immediate panic for her daughter, "i know you mean well, but-"
"You cannot stop me, Mother," Elizabeth told her firmly. "If there is one thing I've learned from all of my years of friendship with Felicity, 'tis that it is important to stand up for what you believe in. I believe Felicity is alive there in England, and I mean to fetch her back!"
Mr. Cole attempted to reason, for he was merely being a concerned parent, he could not help it. "Beth, you were very young when we visited Bristol..."
"I do have some memories, Father," she assured him determinedly. "But more importantly, Arthur and I know how to carry on with people- no offense to you, Ben, but some people there might react strangely to your intensity." (Ben nodded) "And I will be perfectly safe with these two fine men to protect me. Do not forget, Father, that Felicity was forced to go alone with only that terrible little man."
Mr. Cole nodded, feeling pangs of guilt himself. "The trip to England is so long, Beth...and the return is even longer, if not harder."
But Elizabeth could not be swayed. "I have decided, Father. I go with Ben and Arthur." She turned again to her befuddled fiance. "Can your family spare you, Arthur?"
"Well, yes, I-"
"Good. Now take me home so that I may throw some things together and be ready as soon as possible. Father, may I have money for our passage aboard the ship?"
Seeing that she could not be swayed, Mr. Cole smiled and nodded acceptingly. "Very well, Elizabeth, I shall accompany you home so that I can give you what you need. Your mother and I cannot convince you to stay and let the men return Felicity?" The worry in his voice matched the worry on his wife's face.
"Nay, father. I know what I'm about. I am no weakling. Now please, we must hurry if we are to leave with Ben for Yorktown!"
So it was decided. Although wary of the tossing and stomach-churning dips and sways of ship travel, Arthur Pratt did deem it best that he and Elizabeth should accompany Ben to Bristol. His guts just didn't like the idea of being back on a ship. Right away he evisioned himself doing as he had done on the trip over from England years ago: hugging the main mast. He gulped, swalloed his fear, then quickly rose to face the Merrimans: "We shant return without your Felicity, good people. You have my word as a gentleman."
"We already know, dear Arthur," Mrs. Merriman told him kindly, tears sparkling in her eyes.
Blushing a bit, Arthur cleared his throat, straightened his coat and squared his shoulders. "Yes! Well! Let us be pushing off! Young Benjamin, the three of us will require fast horses."
"Horses?" inquired Mrs. Cole, her worry for her daughter's safety rearing itself anew. "You are going to ride a horse all the way to Yorktown?"
"My goodness, Mother, we certainly are not going to walk! And a carriage would take far too long! 'Tis not as if I have never ridden before; I was taught by Felicity!" This last statement was full of pride. She tightly embraced her mother, kissed her cheek, then turned to take Arthur's arm.
With his wife's help and that of the cane, Mr. Merriman got up on his feet to face his friends. "Thank you, all of you. I know the three of you will do your best. Elizabeth, you are a fine, brave, amazing young lady. I know in my heart you will find Felicity." There were tears in his eyes, too.
As a matter of fact, there wasn't a single dry eye in the room. Had young William and Polly not been busy giving attention to the horses, they would be in there with tears in their eyes, too. Ben was already nearest the door, sweeping a sleeve across his eyes. he inhaled swiftly and said, "Please, we need to be going. I will take Penny, Arthur can take Patriot, and Walter Wheaton will loan us a horse for you, Elizabeth"
Elizabeth nodded satisfactorily.
"Ben, stop at King's Creek and tell Mr. Tate the three of you need fresh horses at once to continue on to Yorktown. He trusts you, of course, but he will send a stable boy along with you to bring the horses back from Yorktown. Be careful, the three of you." He hesitated, seeming to be wanting to add more, but his own overwhelming emotions were surely to burst if he said another word right then. Nan had stepped close to him in case he needed her help to move.
"When next you see us," rallied Arthur Pratt, beaming with the optimism the rest of them had been needing so badly, "we shall be four!"
"Yes," agreed Elizabeth firmly. "Now let's do go!"
"Yes dear." Arthur trotted along as Elizabeth hauled him by the arm. Mr. Cole bowed to all of them and followed his daughter. Ben was the last to leave. He looked back at the Merrimans and at Mrs. Cole, who stayed with Martha Merriman quite a lot these days.
"I will not return without her," Ben promised them.
"Good," agreed Nan icily. "See that you don't."
Ben met his former master's eyes, nodded briefly and left. Another moment in that sad, dreary house would have been the end of him. Without Felicity, nothing was the same. Food had no taste, a sunny day was no better than a stormy one, air itself wasn't even fit to breathe. There was just no living without her.
When Elizabeth and Arthur returned from their homes with sacks containing only what they needed, Ben had just finished saddling Penny and patriot, and there was a third horse borrowed from Walter Wheaton named Daisy. Elizabeth wore her smart and pretty dark pink riding habit fashioned so very much like Felicity's hunter-green one. And like Felicity, Elizabeth was determined to ride astride the horse. This was no leisurely outting. Daisy was sweetly named, but Walter had assured Ben that the white mare was a gunshot. Mr. and Mrs. Merriman stood beside the Coles, watching them mount up. And no one even thought of pointing out the improprieties of a known gentlewoman riding like a man.
Once they were mounted, Ben took one last look at Felicity's parents, determined that they would yet become his in-laws. Held steady by Martha and the walking stick, Edward Merriman raised his hand and said, "Godspeed, all of you."
Ben nodded, too choked up for words. A brief glance at Felicity's bedchamber window half revealed Nan standing in a half-shadow with her arms folded tightly. He did not have to see her face to know her eyes still burned with contempt and distrust. He knew she was believing that he would return without her hurt, but he turned his sorrow inward upon himself and further determined that if he discovered the worst...that if Felicity was...gone, then indeed he would not be returning.
He would be dead, too.
The three of them took off at a canter, not wanting to run over any men, women, children or soldiers both French and Continental, that were roving about town. Elizabeth had kissed and clasped hands with her parents one last time, both of them whispering their love, their prayers and their pride in their youngest daughter to her. The two sets of parents watched the young trio make off for the road to Yorktown.
The Merrimans and the Coles were both left feeling deep worry for them, but yet there was sense of hope renewed, a true sense of reassurance unfelt sense this whole nightmare had begun. Their confidence suddenly seemed as clear as the early afternoon sun in the pale January sky.
The only one who felt any dread at all was Nan Merriman.
Standing alone on the quarterdeck of the two-masted brig the Titania, Benjamin Davidson leaned upon the gunwale with both hands, steadily gazing up at clear evening sky already full of stars despite the glow of a setting sun in the west behind the ship. He looked as if he were not aware of the evening activity going on behind him; the ship's carpenter conversing with one of the ship's quartermasters about no repairs needed that hour, topmen going up or coming down, the dog-watchmen going about their duties, the sounds of snapping sails, the clang of seven bells to relay the time of seven thirty. He didn't seemed to be bothered in the least by the rising and falling of the ship as she sailed along in ggod winds, albeit cold ones that stung cheeks and chapped lips. He seemed to not feel anything at all.
Elizabeth and Arthur Pratt were below deck, passing themselves off as a married couple so that Elizabeth would not have to be alone. Knowing Arthur, the gentlemanly modest Brit would choose to sleep on the floor with blankets so that Elizabeth would have the somewhat comfortable cot to herself. But if Elizabeth truly was anything like Felicity, she would insist that Arthur share the cot with her.
After all, nights were so cold.
Ben had never sailed upon a large ship before. Oh sure, he ahd been on riverboats before, and in rowboats; he'd even rowed Felicity around some when he'd spent time at her grandfather's plantation by the York river. But this was very different than being in a river: This was a huge English brigantine returning people to their home country, a sailing ship surrounded by water and sky everywhere you looked. There was more risk, more danger than a rowboat on the river, even during a storm. It didn't occur to him to even wonder if he should be sea-sick or not.
He could not think of anything but Felicity.
Where in Bristol was she? Has she been terribly frightened on the sea-voyage she'd forced to endure? Was she cold? Was she warm? Had she gotten away from Forsythe, and if so, was she even still in Bristol?
It was these kind of thoughts that tormented him to no end. Made him crazed with fear for Felicity's life. What if she had been...abused? He closed his eyes at that most horrible thought. She would never be the same. She would be utterly destroyed. His teeth gritted. But even still I would love her! Nothing can ever change that. No matter what happens to the both of us, I love her unconditionally, always and forever. She will not be able to get shed of me!
He felt more determined than ever to find her, even if he had to scour all of England to do so. and this time, he would kill Forsythe once and for all. He felt his holstered pistol at his right thigh, underneath the long thick coat he wore, and was assured of his shooting skills.
I'm coming, Lissie, he prayed to the sky full of stars above him. Just hold on, love, I'm coming to you!
You're living your life in somebody else's heart
My love is as strong as oceans are far apart
A summer song keeps playing in my brain, And I feel you,
And I see your face again
There's no escape, I lost everything in losing you
Ah, I wish you were here, drying these tears I cry
They were good times, and I wish you were here, and calling my name,
But you're dealing with a man insane, the cost,
How hopelessly I'm lost
I tried to throw our love away and I can't let go
And so I awake, in somebody else's dream (Its not what it seems)
It's only a lie, I've yet to decide who's real
The blood red rose will never die
It'll burn like a flame in the dark of the night
I'm not afraid, I'd give everything if you hear me there
Ahh, I wish you were here, drying these tears I cry
They were good times, it's that time of year, for being alone,
But you're dealing with a heart of stone
Try, to kiss and say goodbye
Tried to throw our love away and that storm will blow...
lines from 'Wish You Were Here' by the BeeGees; not a disco song, not fast nor too slow, but sadly romantic. Check it out on YouTube!