I shifted slightly, reaching to pull my stays down, trying to easy the ache as they dug into my waist. I was lying flat on my belly, peering over the crest of a lightly wooded hill. The stays were just terrible, after just over a week of wearing them I was about ready to cut the damn things off and burn them. I rolled over onto my back and made a proper attempt at re-arranging myself, grateful that the darkness hid me from my companion. I knew I must look like a hedgehog stuck on its back.
"Everything alright over there?" A gruff whisper came from my left. Alistair Jardine, Exploring Officer, had been my company for the last two days. We had met in Rouen, as planned, and were currently skulking around a shipyard near Brest.
"Just…fine," I ground out through gritted teeth, frantically trying to loosen my laces without making too much noise. A terse Scottish sound came from my left followed by scrabbling and the sound of snapping twigs as Alistair crawled to my side. It was a struggle not to laugh when he appeared, wavy hair full of summer foliage and an inexplicable pigeon feather.
"Did you crawl through a nest?" I whispered, chuckling.
"I'll thank you not to laugh at me, woman," he returned with a soft Scottish burr, his white teeth flashing in the dark in what I knew was a grin, "What are you about?"
"I wouldn't dream of it," I mumbled, stifling my mirth, "this corset is driving me to distraction."
I heard a sigh and a grumble that sounded suspiciously like "Women!" as he crawled closer. A large hand landed square on my bodice and began to fumble in the dark. Shocked, I pulled away.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" I gasped.
"Helping with your laces, aye? I'm sure I've have more experience that you of getting them off."
"I can manage just fine, thank you very much. I wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea."
"I would rather a patrol thought we were out here having a tumble, than spying on the shipyard," he replied with another grin.
I couldn't deny his logic there. They had been sprawled in the bushes for neigh on three hours now, observing the shipyard. How many vessels in repair, how many newly commissioned and how many guns. This was a far cry from what I had been expecting to do, but not much more exciting. I gave up fiddling with the damn stays and rolled back onto my front, fixing my eyes on a large French frigate- thirty-six guns- I wrote its particulars down in a small note book written in code. Anyone looking at it would assume I sold flowers, every ship had its own code name. This ship was named Thétis, one of the few French frigates not blown to bits in the Caribbean Sea. I had to admit it was good to be doing something that felt useful.
I had spent the last week travelling from inn to inn, talking to all and sundry along the way, gauging the mood of the populace. A mixed bag in all, some were happy with the change of regime, there were more opportunities for them and their families. Some were simply happy to have employment after so many had lost their lives to Madame Guillotine, she had left many vacant positions. Others were weary of all the blood, they lived in fear that they may be next, they longed for a return of the monarchy where they would be poor but at least in a stable fashion. Then there were the usual idealists, educated men for one side or the other. Most of them did not appreciate speaking to a woman about their mighty principles which made me question the validity of my mission. Not that I would rather be back on the Renown, many things were better than that.
My mind was once again drawn back to my last morning on board, the disturbing revelations from Mr Kennedy and the most embarrassing departure. I had stepped on deck to find Captain Sawyer, the whole troop of Marines and the entire crew turned out in a formal send off, complete with gun salute. As the shots fired I wondered exactly how many Frenchmen had heard the racket and were running even now to alert each other and the militia. I was certain I would set foot on French sand and be arrested. The entire contingency of officers looked mortified and Mr Kennedy raised a hand to rub his brow in a manner that clearly spoke of exasperation. As I stepped up to the railings to climb into the jolly boat the Captain stepped forward and put what I think he meant to be a reassuring hand on my arm. I had to stop myself from pulling my arm from his grip but resisted as he seemed to be in an amiable mood- completely at odds with what Mr Kennedy had described earlier.
"I wish you a safe journey, my dear," he smiled, "We shall be in Rochefort in three weeks to collect you."
He said collect like he was coming to pick me up in the carriage after a ball or collect a piece of luggage. I plastered what I hoped was a grateful smile on my face and climbed over the rail. My last look on board was of a slovenly crew and nervous officers. I smiled once more to Mr Kennedy, Hornblower and Bush and climbed down the rungs and into the boat. I turned about and sat down and looked directly into the face of Randall. My stomach turned over.
"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.
His face twisted into an ugly grin, his hands gripping the oars until they creaked.
"Why, takin' you ashore o'course," he smirked.
I shot him a look that conveyed a good deal of my more hostile emotions, looking up to the deck rather desperately. I saw the tail of a blue coat swish away like a flapping sail. No help there then. I turned back to Randall and settled a hand on the knife hidden inside my coat. If I had to kill the blackguard and row the boat myself, I would.
A shout sounded from above as Randall made to make his first pull on the oars. I looked up once more to see an approaching behind, all long legs and blue jacket. Mr Kennedy plopped down into the boat with a practiced grace and settled himself on the bench next to me.
"Quick as you like, Randall, we have but an hour."
I shot him a grateful look as the boat lurched gently away from the ship. He smiled a tense smile to me, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He was all golden hair and casual elegance. I had never been more relieved to see anyone.
"How did you wrangle this then?" I asked him quietly.
"Told the Captain a Lady should have an escort, t'would not be seemly otherwise." He raised a fair brow with a wry smile.
"That's it? He didn't argue at all? No penalty or punishment? He isn't going to make you swab anything is he?" I returned his wry smile.
Mr Kennedy let out a bark of laughter, "Swab anything? Now, my Lady, what have you been reading?"
I chuckled and glanced back to Randall who was clearly trying to hear what we were talking about. No doubt every syllable he heard would be reported back to the Captain.
We made it to the beach with no more than a handful of resentful looks from Randall. Mr Kennedy leapt lightly into the water as Randall spat loudly into the sea. With a look of disgust on my face I accepted Mr Kennedy's hand, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I made to jump into the cool waves, but Mr Kennedy put a hand around my waist and swung me into his arms, walking calmly to shore.
"You really don't have to do this, Mr Kennedy," I said, struggling to get down from his arms, "I am perfectly capable of walking."
In response he merely smiled and hiked me back up again, depositing me lightly on the damp sand. Dry land had never felt stranger, after the constant rocking of the sea the sand seemed to shift under my feet. Only it wasn't the sea shifting, it was me. As I took a step, the land moved again, and I made a headlong tumble toward the sand. Mr Kennedy caught me by the arm and set me to rights again, his hand lingering on my waist.
"Maybe you're not after all," he chuckled.
"Maybe you're right, thank you," I blushed as I made my way slowly toward the sand bank, his tread light on the sand behind me.
"I shall see you over the bank, we don't want you to end up nose down in the sand now, do we?"
I smiled to myself as I took his arm, "You are teasing me, Mr Kennedy, I shan't stand for it. It really is most cruel of you."
He turned to me and offered me a deep mocking bow, his hand brushing the sea grass.
"My most humble apologies, good lady."
"That's 'My Lady' to you," I offered with raised brow.
With a sly grin he regained my hand and we clambered up the steep sand bank, my boots sliding on the shifting sands, the wind whipping my shawl about me. At the top of the bank we had a fine view of the land before us; hardy, windswept grass and white sand blown across the hard summertime soil, a small river widening out to meet the sea and beyond, far in the distance, a small town. I supposed that would be the first stop on my journey, at least to get my bearings. I was aware that the sails could be spotted at any time, in all likelihood they had heard that damned gun salute. I turned to Mr Kennedy.
"I suppose this is where I should bid you farewell, it wouldn't do for you to be seen in that coat," I said, my hand smoothing his lapel of its own accord, my fingers catching on the smooth gold buttons.
For a while he just looked at my hand, resting on his chest, his hand coming up to close around it. His eyes found mine, blue into hazel and I forgot the words I was about to say. His other hand settled on my waist and pulled me slowly closer. The look in his eyes made my breath catch as he lowered his lips to mine.
For a split second I was completely lost, my mind blissfully blank, then something inside of me cracked and I felt some of the sadness I had been carrying with me seep away. I had closed myself off, wrapped myself in sadness and hidden from myself in the darkness and shadows of loss. In that one sweet moment I felt sunlight again, felt it's warmth on my lips, and remembered there was more to life than duty and loss.
Just as quickly he was gone, sliding down the sandbank, the wind lashing his shining hair around his face as he jogged toward the boat.
"Do let me know if your duties are interrupting your daydream, lass."
An irritated Scotsman pulled my mind back to the task at hand.
"What?"
"You have had that dazed look on your face for the last ten minutes at least. Either you need the bog or…"
"Shut up," I interrupted.
"You may be a Lady but I will not be spoken to like…"
"Shut up and look over there!" I pointed out towards the dock. There was movement coming from one of the offices. Several men in uniform had stepped out, little but the white flashings on their jacket visible in the dark, followed by a tall man in the plain red jacket of an exploring officer- a British exploring officer.
"Well, I'll be…" Alister trailed off.
"Who is it?"
"Oh, this is not good at all."
"Who is it?!" I hissed again.
"That, lass, is Major Colquhoun Grant. If they know what he knows, we are in very great danger."