And here it is, at long last! Ugh. I am so SORRY. It's so embarrassing to not have uploaded this sooner. I always promised myself I would never be one of those authors with stories they update so infrequently. Then real life happened. -.-
More navy boys in this chapter. And no more weird sci-fi for awhile, either. Enjoy, my few remaining readers. Reviews greatly appreciated, as always! Thank you SO much to those who reviewed the preface, hearts to you guys! Hope this brightens your day.
Something that probably needs to be explained: Lottie will take most of the focus of this story, sorry if that upsets anyone. When I first started Rec, I planned on making her the foremost character, but the responses to Amy's and Cat's stories were so beautiful that I decided to be nice and carry on with them as well. Cat and Amy will have parts to play in this sequel, but be warned that most of this story revolves around Lottie. I hope you still read this!
Chapter 1: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme
The year was 1803. The Treaty of Amiens, which had created a short-lived and shaky halting of the hostilities with France, was over. Many sailors welcomed the return of the war with France, as many found it hard to support themselves and their families during the peace. But for now, the long and bitter fighting between France and Great Britain had slowed. Some lucky navy and militia men were able to come home and be with their families for the holidays, others were not as fortunate, and remained at sea or at their stations.
Christmas had embraced the city once again. There was not snow on the ground quite yet, but locals crossed their fingers and prayed earnestly—both for the moisture as well as the beauty of the falling white flakes. It was hard not to be cheered by the holiday season. Decorations hung in windows, scents of seasonal dishes and breads spilled out from bakeries, and people huddled around their fires, bundled in as many layers as they had available.
Best of all, men from ships overseas and lands afar were returning home. There were some who would not be able return for the season, and others who starting out on their journeys directly before the holidays. But for some fortunate seamen, officers, and soldiers that had come home, there was very little to be sad about. Ships were coming in steadily, returning to gather supplies, new recruits, and reinforcements for the elongated blockade of the French coast.
The evening approached rapidly that day. The final ships had docked, and their officers had been released from their duties. Each was on his furlough, and each had plans as to how to spend it. The Hotspur had pulled into Portsmouth Bay several hours ago, yet only now had most of its crew finally left the ship for their holiday, including the Captain, having finished their journey at long last. It was custom to keep sailors aboard the ship at all times—mostly because of the navy's fear of desertion—but due to the graciousness of their Captain, and in regards to the holiday season, many of the Hotspur's sailors had been allowed a short leave. They did not take this for granted, escaping quickly to enjoy the few days that they had for themselves.
Captain Horatio Hornblower walked into the first tavern he came to in Portsmouth, not wanting to walk any further than necessary in the rain that was coming down in sleety sheets. The place was overcrowded, and perhaps not the cleanliest, but it was warm, and he could smell lovely aromas coming from the kitchen. It seemed like days ago that he had last eaten. Right now, fresh bread sounded particularly appetizing, seeing as for the last few weeks, he had deprived of anything very fresh, save the prize fruit they had retrieved from a French frigate.
His first officer, William Bush, was close behind him. They had chosen to stick together after their voyage was over, at least for the time being. Bush was headed back to London to be reunited with his fiery but charming wife, Amanda. Horatio was unsure of where he was going. There would most likely be some place around Portsmouth that he could afford to stay at for a while, at least until something new turned up. He did have a wife to return to eventually, out of duty rather than his love for her. She was living in Plymouth because of its importance to the navy; she believed that by living there, she would be closer to him. Horatio knew that he would have to endure a lecture from his grumpy mother-in-law when Christmas came around. Money wasn't a problem—at least, it wouldn't be for a few months. The navy paid decently, the only issue was when he was on leave and not earning wages.
"Let's see if we can get something to eat around here," said Horatio, having to raise his voice slightly in order to compete with the noise of laughter and socializing. His companion nodded, and the two of them made their way to the bar counter. It took a minute to get the serving girl's attention, she seemed very busy. Horatio ordered something to warm his belly, and Bush followed suit.
Wearily, the two navy men sank down onto their stools, enjoying the feeling slowly returning to their toes and fingers. It had been a long haul this time. And it hadn't been the most pleasant of cruises, either. The crew was able-bodied enough, but the officers had not been the most cooperative. Horatio was not new at being in command, but he had found that being a captain was not a responsibility that should be diminished in the slightest.
"Horatio!" someone called from behind him. The Captain turned around.
His longtime friend and shipmate, Archie Kennedy, was making his way through the tables and standing customers to them. Henry Wellard, another fellow officer and former shipmate, followed close behind. Broad smiles lit their faces, and Bush and Horatio felt their spirits lift at the sight of their comrades. It had been a long time since they had seen each other last, but their shared history kept them from growing apart no matter how infrequent their conversations were.
"What are you lot doing in Plymouth?" asked Archie, nearly laughing at the happen circumstance. The four men greeted each other happily—partially because of their kinship with one another, and partial because of the cheer the season brought them—shaking hands and clapping one another's shoulders.
"Same as you two are, I figure," said Bush, smiling.
"It is good to see you," said Horatio genuinely, faintly recalling flashes of the last journey he had shared with both of them. Archie nodded seriously, and Bush hmm-ed in agreement.
"Some luck, this—docking in the same city, at the same time, staying at the same place," noted Archie, glancing around the crowded tables, doted with the dark blue uniforms of eating, laughing, and drinking navy men.
"Let's call it fate. Drinks all around?" suggested Wellard, and with nodding heads, the rest agreed. An occasion like this could not be passed up. Besides, it was the Christmas season. Archie and Wellard joined their friends at their table, and Bush proceeded to get the attention, once again, of one of the ever-busy serving girls.
Nearly two years had passed since the conclusion of the four's journey aboard the Renown, when they had served as officers under the command of Captain James Sawyer, a naval captain who had been highly esteemed. Their tale was not a pretty one, and included scandalous whispers between the decks of mutiny, insanity, and unrecorded passengers. In short, the Renown had been headed for sure disaster under the command of James Sawyer, so the lieutenants had done what had been necessary to prevent it. Along for their journey had been three shipwrecked American women who were allegedly under Sawyer's mercy to be returned to their country. Charges were pressed against the lieutenants for the unorthodox—so to speak—removal of Captain Sawyer, but over the course of a trial in Kingston, all charges had been dismissed.
Things had ended up quite differently than one would expect. The three American passengers had not been returned to America. Instead, they had become Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. Bush, and Mrs. Wellard over the course of the following year. Captain James Sawyer's name had been tarnished forever, and the lives of the Renown's officers had been preserved. It was for the Admiralty to decide which was of greater importance.
Once the four lieutenants had returned to England, they found that a treaty had been signed between France and Britain, temporarily immobilizing them as navy officers. Because of their shared experience, and friendship, they did not immediately separate. Those who were only engaged got married, and as husbands they tried to provide for their wives—which proved not to be an easy task, seeing as they were living on half-pay. It was a trying year for the newlyweds, but their love had carried them through the difficulties, and they had emerged stronger, although a tad more frugal.
Less than a year later, war had once again broken out between the two neighboring countries. Horatio was given command of the small frigate, the Hotspur, with Bush as his senior officer. Shortly after, Wellard and Archie had been assigned to a smart brig called the Armageddon. It was a fast, beautiful ship that worked as a privateer against the Spanish and the French. Their voyages were long, but successful.
The four greeted one other heartily, laughing and smiling and asking how life had been for the other lately. Archie and Wellard were both jovial in manner, their last voyage had been a good one. Their ship had managed to capture a richly loaded French frigate, bringing in an ample supply of prize money for all of the crew. Both of them had arrived earlier that day, but due to the weather conditions, were unable to return home until the following morning.
An onlooker would never have guessed at the trials the four had faced. One would assume their meeting was nothing more than a casual gathering between friends who had never been better. The conversation flowed easily, as if they had never been apart. Talk of their women—the three American wives—could be heard, as well as detailed accounts of their journeys since the Renown.
The terrible and tragic events that had occurred aboard the Renown were seldom mentioned amongst the four friends. There was no need for a reminder of the past, for it lingered in the back of their minds, haunting them forever. Each had emerged from the experience a better person, but each found the memories inescapable. All they could do was live—not as if nothing had ever happened, for that they found impossible—but with the intent of moving forward. Every once in a great while, somehow the topic would weasel its way into a decent discussion, turning their conversation cold.
Bush, as usual, said something particularly amusing to his comrades, and after the accommodating laughter, a quiet pause ensued.
Archie was the first to break the silence, with nearly morbid composure. "Do you remember last Christmas, gentlemen?"
"Oh, God. Yes," Wellard said loudly, being the first to answer, and he rubbed his forehead, as if trying to block the memory out. His companions laughed at his reaction, and a faint flush spread across Wellard's defiantly pale cheeks. Usually he was very soft spoken; it was only around his friends he felt completely comfortable speaking his mind.
Archie thought about throwing out a off-colored joke towards the younger officer, but decided not to embarrass him too badly. There would be time for that later. Instead he chose to say, "This year, things are doing to be different. This year will be a Christmas to remember." There were murmurs of agreement from around the table, and Bush heartily raised his mug in concurrence.
It was unanimous—even among those who were much better off than Wellard—that last the holiday season, in fact, the entirety of last year, had been a difficult one for the families of those enlisted the service. The peace had left its navy men living off of half pay, and worse yet, Horatio's command of the Retribution had been taken from him. Naturally, they had done the best they could to survive, and Archie had not been considerably hurt by the smaller income, as he was, frankly, quite rich.
Of the three of them, Wellard had felt the worst about it. Not because of himself, but because of his dear Lottie—his ever forgiving, his ever optimistic dear friend. There was no money for frivolous things, or anything other than was essential, really. She didn't need frivolous things, his wife had insisted, but Wellard still felt bad. It was his duty as a husband to provide for her, and yet he found her having to earn a source of income in addition to his salary.
But this year, it would indeed be different. The young lieutenant was determined. There was more money now, and Wellard was going to buy her something. If that meant forgoing something for himself, so be it. Either way, his wife was going to be warm and happy this holiday season. And he couldn't wait to see her again. For a moment, he considered sending a letter ahead to her, but he decided against it. It would be a surprise- she would like that.
There was a mischievous twinkle in Archie's eye as he took another generous gulp from his mug. "What are you thinking, my friend?" asked Horatio, who's smile was finally meeting his eyes. The color that had been stolen from their faces by the winter's chill had been replenished by the drink, soup and bread they had been served. The atmosphere was cozy now, and each man was comfortable.
"Don't you think it odd, though—both our ships coming in on the same day, happening upon each other at the same tavern?" His friends had no choice but to agree, it was indeed lucky. They had not seen each other for some time, so this chance meeting was not to be brushed past. After all, there was much catching up to do after such time spent apart.
"I think that this, like Wellard aptly called it, is fate," he continued, and Wellard recognized the look in his senior officer's eyes—Archie was about to do something impulsive. "Why not be together for Christmas?" he finished merrily, and his companions at first did not know how to respond.
"Are you mad?" asked Bush, who laughed again. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was his company, but suddenly everything just seemed so damn funny.
"I'm perfectly serious," Archie insisted, grinning. "Come stay at my house, all of you, for Christmas. Better bring your wives, too. Oh God, Cat would have my head if you left them at home," he said winking, knowing very well that his wife had probably already invited Lottie and Amy to their house for Christmas.
"I know that my wife would have my head if I left her at home," replied Bush quietly, trying to attempt seriousness and failing miserably as a chuckle escaped him. The rest of the group laughed along with him. No, they couldn't really see Bush emerging from a situation like that unscathed. Not with a woman like Amy.
"Lottie, I'm sure, would love to come," answered Wellard, more formally than his companion. Archie nodded. It would probably do the girl some good, to get away from the tavern where she worked and lived, and have someone wait on her for a change.
Horatio was the only one at the table who had yet to respond to Archie's eager invitation. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, it was just that he had a duty to his ship, and there was also Maria. Though it came off as selfish every time he tried to explain it, there were just some things he didn't want to share with his wife. His experiences aboard the Hotspur and his naval friends were things he just wanted to keep to himself. He didn't really know why, it just seemed like Maria had already suffered so much sadness in her life that he didn't want to risk bringing in more. And yes, he was a bit selfish, he supposed. It was one of the few things he didn't have to hear her talk about all the time at home.
"Horatio?" Archie asked, eyes expectant. Hornblower sighed. He knew that his friend would be disappointed if he declined his offer, but Archie would forgive him. And that's why he always felt so guilty. Ever since they were midshipmen, he felt like he had let down Archie repeatedly over the course of their time spent together in the navy.
"It's just that, well, Maria..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish that thought without coming off across as an arrogant pig.
"She can come too, Horatio. Maybe it would do her some good to include her—to go out and meet some new people," Bush advised gently, careful not to press the matter.
If anyone else had suggested something like that in such a forward manner, Horatio would have been offended. But this was his friend—someone who knew him, who understood. Thank God for William. He at least had him to talk to about Maria. Maybe his friend was right. It wasn't something he would deny—Maria didn't really have any friends. She kept herself busy as a schoolteacher during the day, and caring for her mother.
Still, he wasn't sure if this was the best idea. Maybe it would be alright. Maybe.
"I'm not sure how long I would be able to stay, seeing as I have a duty to my ship," he answered finally, and his friends had to smile to themselves. There he went again, having that same infallible sense of duty even in midst of cheer and holiday. Always the sober one, he was, never letting life's pleasures distract him from where his loyalties lied.
"Oh, yes. The Hotspur shouldn't be kept waiting for too long. I'm sure she's eagerly awaiting the presence of her Captain," Archie teased, and a brief smile washed across his tired friend's face. "So I will be seeing you and Maria, then?"
After a slight hesitation, he replied, "Yes. And well, my mother-in-law, too, I suppose. She lives with Maria," he muttered, remembering that the crotchety old woman would not abandon her daughter. But then again, she might just rather stay at home, depending if she felt up to the journey or not.
"The more the merrier," Archie said sincerely. Horatio smiled gratefully.
"Well, I don't know about you gentlemen, but I'm off to bed. The only cab for London leaves at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning," said Bush at last, letting out a sigh as he got up from the table. His companions protested, saying that surely he wasn't getting old already, but they let him go. They all knew that beneath his groaning, he actually was an early riser, and the morning would not come fast enough for him. They knew he missed Amy miserably.
Horatio soon followed his first officer, claiming a room for himself. Archie and Wellard remained for a while longer at the table, chatting pleasantly about their prize money, the few mysterious items they had grabbed for themselves—such as the fine powder known as chocolate used to make a soothing, warm drink—and wives, whom they were anxious to be reunited with.
It had been months since the couples had last held each other. The last time the Armageddon had been in port, it was for supplies and orders from the Admiralty only. Wellard was the only one lucky enough to be granted a day's leave, serving as an overseer of loading new cargo onto the ship. He spent it wisely, rushing off to his awaiting wife as soon as he was able. Archie had not been as fortunate, and had glumly had to be contented by his wife's letters, which paled in comparison to actually seeing her face to face.
Evening turned to night as the music died and food grew stale. It was much later than they should have been awake, the officers decided, and it was probably time they turn in. It would take some time for them to adjust to no longer sleeping for only four hours at a time, having to be on watch every other four hours. Then again, it would probably prove to take no time to adjust at all.
Tomorrow, Wellard and Archie would travel together as far as Southampton, where Lottie stayed—and Wellard, when he was ashore. From there, Archie would continue on to Bristol, where he and Cat lived comfortably on his inheritance—a large house overseeing surrounding farms. It would be a long journey, and would most likely take two full days. The journeys of Horatio and Bush would be longer. Horatio would travel all the way to Plymouth, and Bush would be traveling in the opposite direction, to London. There was still a week or so until Christmas; there wasn't a real need to rush, other than the fact that none of them had seen their wives for far too long and longed to be in their company.
Away to their rooms they went, longing for sleep and filled with the hope of the next morning—which couldn't come fast enough. The same boyish, Christmas excitement danced throughout their thoughts. And no one, not even the sober Horatio, was tainted with pessimism or prediction about the future. For once, everything seemed to be good, and each man was determined to keep it that way. Each man fell asleep in turn, dreaming of blissful cherished moments to be had, and of the things to come with the following morn. A proper holiday, it would be—one far from the sea, from the blood on their hands, and from the memories tainted by the burdens of pain, duty, and war. Thoughts of peace—only peace—calmed their minds. No reflections on past choices made nor fears of the days to follow betrayed them.
Ah. I'm kind of in the mood for Christmas now, even with it being only June... And my classes are finally OVER for the semester! My goal is to write as much as possible over the two months that I have. Again, I humbly apologize for not updating in many, many months. It has been incredibly hard for me to write much of anything between real life and my emotions.
I will *try* and update soon-ish. Seriously, soon-ish!