Will was bone tired, and being knocked around in a storm all day had not helped. Ever since the German raids on Scarborough, Hartlepool and Whitby he hadn't spent more than three hours off the Peterel. Whenever they came in, he usually had a chance to rush to the pub where he could find a Dalian man waiting for him with a packet of letters. It was a quick exchange, and then he had to race back to the ship.

And Bligh was making him pay for it.

He had been told that every man had to help with coaling, which meant that when he came back to his cabin, he was covered in coal dust and barely had a few minutes to try and wipe the worst of it off before taking his watch on the bridge. The senior officers had clearly been told by Bligh what to do, for Will had received a dressing down on his hygiene and how his conduct was unbecoming of an officer.

He'd endured it, but when he had asked to excused to clean himself, he had been denied and told to go straighten up the chart room, and to not leave any black fingerprints over it. Then, once they had been back on patrol, it had been back to the torpedo room, aside from the few watches he could wrangle in the turret.

And tonight, Bligh had decided to have all of the officers join him for dinner.

Will dressed himself carefully, scrubbing his hands twice because he still felt like there was coal dust under his nails. He knotted his tie perfectly, and even took his razor out. He had to be careful, not just because of the way the seas were throwing the ship around, but because he had begun to grow out his mustache again.

At first, it had just been because of how tired he had been for a few days that he had forgotten to shave, but then he remembered Ana. How she would tease him about wanting to see him with calvary whiskers, how she liked when he rubbed his stubble against her cheek, she would be glad when he had a few days to get a picture taken of him with his new facial hair and sent to her.

After ensuring that he didn't cut his throat, and that his slowly growing whiskers remained, Will checked the clock in his cabin. He was early, by quite a bit. He could show up to the wardroom early, but that would earn some censure from Bligh no doubt, so he decided to wait. He had a few ways to entertain himself.

In addition to the packet of letters from Ana, that he could feel contained more than just letters, he had other mail to sort through. Letters from Peg and Da, telling him about how Sam had gotten engaged and Agnes was all aflutter with the plans. Sylvie sent him letters about how things were in Southampton, how the boys were and how Mavis was getting bigger every day. She even went over to his house every now and then to keep things straightened up.

But, to be honest, the best letters, aside from Ana's, were those from Lights.

He'd been kept on the Oceanic, although she had received a Naval captain and men. But she had still kept her merchant men and command, and Lights had been quite honest about how confusing and ill managed the ship was. The Oceanic, a passenger liner, had been given the task of patrolling the Scottish coast, a job more suited to a destroyer or a torpedo boat. Lights had been quite firm on that fact in the first letters he had sent Will.

Honestly Will, here I though using all the mail ships as cruisers meant that we would actually be cruisers and not puttering about in those waters. It's far too bloody cold up there, I don't know how you Scots handle it. And the Navy men refuse to listen to those of us who have served on her for years, they keep running her so close to the shore I half expect to hear rocks on her hull.

His later letters had proven him correct.

The damn fools have cost me my favorite girl. Oh, I don't mean Sylvie, but they tore the bottom out of the Oceanic and it was only by the grace of God that not a man was lost. They kept Davy up for so long plotting our course that the poor man was exhausted and sent us onto the rocks. It took sometime to lose her though, so we all got off. Although I fair gave my captain a heart attack when I went back to her before we were picked up. I couldn't leave her there all alone, not when I had spent so many happy years on her. I know you had a fair number too, and I just wanted to give her one last happy moment. I know it sounds foolish, but I didn't want her to think that I was leaving her willingly.

I also may have taken the navigation clock, to keep part of her with me.

I am back to barracks at Devonport, and the misery of constant bridge. Meanwhile I suppose I can begin some kind of plot to convince your wife to raise my girl after the war. Surely she wouldn't mind spending some cash that way? After all, we did spend an enjoyable time skating on her, that has to count for something.

Will had Light's most recent letter in his hand, and used his razor to slit the envelope and shake out the letter.

William,

I swear, I would not have volunteered for this if not for the endless rounds of bridge and the fact that I was somehow getting cabin fever on dry ground. But they asked for men, and it turns out Davey and I were both chafing at the bit to do some damn thing instead of sitting around. I wish I could give you the details (hush, hush) but I'll have to tell you everything when the war is won over a pint. But Will, they stuck me with Davey, again! It's not as if I have some kind of dislike for him after what happened, but I'd been on the damn boat with him for so long and now I'm to be cooped up with him alone for weeks! I don't suppose you have a spot on your ship available? I promise, I'd behave myself.

Take mercy on me,

Charles Lightoller

Will chuckled, folding the letter up and setting back in the drawer of his small desk.If his clock was accurate, he'd be right on time to the wardroom, and he quickly set off. Quigley and the other juniors were making their way there as well, so they all wound up coming in at the same time.

The senior officers were already sat, drinking and talking and not acknowledging them as they entered and took their seats. Will tried to not eye the rum that was in front of the other officers, or swell on the fact that a brandy had been placed conspicuously in front of Bligh. If he was lucky, kept his head down and didn't speak, he'd likely get through the dinner relatively unscathed.

Of course, when the steward had placed a plate of fish in front of each of them, proudly informing them that it had been caught during their patrol yesterday, Bligh pounced on him. "I wasn't aware that you were such a dandy, Mr. Murdoch."

Will did his best not to flush. "I know my mustache is still growing in, sir. It will just take some time."

"That is not what I was referring to." Bligh snapped, and it gave Will pause. If it wasn't his mustache, which to be quite fair was already fuller than Quigley's, then exactly what was it that made him dandyish? His uniform was ill-fitting and had gained a small amount of wear over his time on board. He glanced over to Bligh, who snorted. "Three rings? And here I thought one would do, if even that."

Will twisted his hands together, "Sir, these rings are allowed by regulation."

"They may be, but it's still unusual." Bligh leaned back in his chair, "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us as to all of them? After all, if you're going to flaunt yourself in this way, they must have some story."

"This," Will brushed his thumb over the small silver ring on his right pinky. "Was recently sent to me by my sister. A signet ring that's been in my family for some time, my brother John had it last."

One of the senior officers rolled his eyes. "A sentimental gift from a brother, how trite."

"My brother has been dead for eight years," Will snapped, "Sir, I hardly think it trite to remember him."

"And the other ring?" Quigley spoke up, clearly trying to distract Bligh who had turned dark as a thundercloud when Will had spoken out.

Will glanced down to his hand, "My first wife, Ada. She's been gone six years."

"Ah," One of the seniors raised an eyebrow. "You're something of a Jonah, Mr. Murdoch. I certainly hope that doesn't rub off on us."

Will did his best not to flush as the others laughed. "I consider myself quite lucky, sir, for I have a new wife." He smiled down at the golden ring on his left hand. "Ana, I'll have had two years with her next year."

Quigley chuckled, "She'll be quite glad to see you then."

"It may be some time before that." Will admitted, "She's an American, and I would prefer she stay in New York and away from this madness."

"Well, that explains why she married you." Bligh clearly wanted the attention back on him. "Those up-jumped colonials have always lacked sense. If they had any brains at all, they'd have joined in as soon as Germany declared war on our Empire. Aren't we supposed to have their support? They're only out to line their pockets, a greedy people with no sense of honor."

That quickly led to a long and loud discussion about all the qualities Americans lacked. Will barely lifted his eyes from his plate, for he could feel the others laughing at him every time they looked over. He gripped his fork so tightly when the discussion turned to the lack of morals that American women exhibited, they'd gladly lift their skirts for a few sweet words after all, that he was worried he might bend it.

Fortunately, the junior officers were not expected to stick around for after dinner cigars, although Bligh stopped Will on his way out. A smug smile was on the man's face, and he blew a cloud of cigar smoke at him. "If you can't behave yourself around your betters Mr. Murdoch, then you won't make it far in this line of work." He snorted. "Oh, I forgot. This isn't your line of work; you chose the greedy path much like your wife. Don't forget you've got the midnight watch."

Will pursed his lips. "Of course, sir."

A roar of laughter followed him on his way out, and Will didn't head for his cabin straightaway. He needed to get out, to get away and let the words fade from his mind. So he grabbed his oilskins from the chartroom, and stepped out on deck. The storm was still going strong, although the pitching and rolling had subsided slightly. He wished the Peterel had wings like the other ships he'd been on had, an out of the way place to stand and watch the sea.

But now, he simply had to curl his fingers around the railing and hope that no one made him move. The sea foamed over the bow, green water slipping out through the scuppers before more came on. An endless cycle, so long as the ship pointed into the wind. Of course, they could turn against it, taking it over the stern where it was harder for the sea to drain. Or worse, they could go broadside and take the swells in a way that would swamp the ship.

For a moment, just a moment, Will wanted that. He wanted the damn ship to founder and sink, taking Bligh and the senior officers with it. He wouldn't have to hear Ana belittled, Ada disregarded and John mocked. All of those men who so enjoyed tormenting him would be gone, and in Will's opinion, the Navy would be better off for it.

But that would also mean losing Quigley and the other juniors, who despite their superiors, were a decent bunch. When some of them had seen that Will had been correcting their calculations, they'd asked him for his help. Now whenever Will had a moment during the day, they would find him and he would tutor them. In return, they assisted him with the torpedo drills and gunnery math that he had lacked.

They were good men, well, good lads. All of them were young, enthusiastic, and deserved far better than a ship like this. He sighed, feeling the rain tracking over his cheeks. It was bitingly cold, and even under his oilskins he shivered. He could almost feel a memory of another cold night gnawing at him, and he knew that if he didn't head back in, Bligh would have one more thing to mock him for.

So Will uncurled his fingers, put his oilskins back in the chartroom, and headed back for his cabin. He cranked the small electric heater as high as it would go, feeling the warmth chase the memory away. He had just sat down with a sigh when he heard a soft knocking on his door. He glanced at the clock, his watch wasn't for several hours, but knowing Bligh he had decided to change something while Will had been outside.

But when he opened the door, it was Quigley standing there. "Finally, where'd you go?"

"I needed some fresh air." Will mumbled, looking away.

Quigley nodded. "After that, I can see why. Here," A flask was held out. "Whiskey, from our last leave. You need it."

Will nodded his thanks, taking a belt of whiskey before handing it back. "Thank you, I did."

"And, as for what they said about your wife." Quigley rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one among us with an American wife, even Admiral Beatty's wife is!" His brow furrowed briefly, "I wouldn't mention that to Captain Bligh though, he doesn't approve of Beatty. But still, I think they're just jealous of you. I'll see you for the watch?" Will nodded, earning a wave from the younger man as he made his way back to his own cabin.

Will sat back down at his desk, looking at the large packet of letters from Ana. He wanted to be good, to open only one letter a day and write her a reply for each. But he knew that there were a couple packages in there, and that with Christmas coming up, they were clearly gifts. He wanted to wait, to open them on Christmas day and see what she had sent him.

God, he hoped she had taken pictures for him, it would make tonight far more bearable. His fingers itched towards the packet. Surely, he could open one package? He would still have a gift for Christmas day after all, and Ana would never know he had opened one early. He kept his eyes closed as he slipped his hand into the packet, closed his fingers around one of the paper-wrapped packages, and drew it out. He quickly had the string that had been tied around it loose, and tore it open.

Instead of a pile of racy pictures, what tumbled into his lap was a fabric bundle.

Will lifted it, noting that it was made out of navy blue silk. A pearl button held a flap closed, and when he opened it, the bundle quickly folded out to reveal various sewing implements tucked away in patchwork pockets. A card had been held in the middle, and he ran his fingers over the writing as he read.

My dearest William,

I hope you like this; I know you once told me you could manage a button, but without Reggie or I to take care of your clothes, the task falls to you. This housewife should have everything you need, I spent a good deal of time sewing it and packing everything I could think you would need in it. I never knew there were so many needles, and that some of them were so big! Merry Christmas, my love, and I hope that next year we will be together for it.

Forever your loving wife,
Ana

Will let his fingers brush over the housewife, feeling the various pockets and tucks that hid pins, needles, thread, buttons and all the ungodly things his wife had sent him. He folded it back together, buttoned it shut, and then brought it up to his face. He inhaled, hoping that he could smell Ana's perfume on it. The barest hint of jasmine brushed across his nose, and he sighed.

Will wished he had some of her perfume to douse the housewife in, so he could always have something around to stir up the memories of his wife. But there was one thing that could stir up memories better than perfume, and his fingers inched back into the packet.

He'd already opened his Christmas gift after all, which meant the other packet was clearly not to be kept until Christmas.

The next package was opened much quicker, another letter fluttering out as he laid back on the bed and turned on the lamp. Ana stared back at him from the thick paper, her hair disheveled and the chemise slipping off her shoulder to reveal her breast. Will brushed his finger across the photo, his other hand pulling the letter up for him to read.

I am never doing this again! If you want to see me like this, then you can come home and I will gladly model them for you. Do you have any idea what I had to go through for these pictures? I wanted to try and take them in our bedroom, until the photographer mentioned that the servants might talk about her bringing her equipment upstairs. And we both know how much they gossip; I couldn't have them spreading that around. Which meant I had to shove everything into a bag and go to her studio. Fortunately, I had worked with her before, back when you went back to Britain for the inquiry.

She's very professional, and discreet, and now has her own studio. She's also offered to take pictures of us when you come home, although we will both be keeping our clothes on for that one! I hope that these pictures do help you though, for I should hate for you to forget me over there.

Then again, I know that's impossible.

Enjoy,

Ana

Will set the letter aside, fanning the pictures out in his hands. Ana had spoiled him, at least a dozen pictures, and even from bare glimpses he could see that in some of them she was wearing nothing at all. A small smile broke out as he unbuttoned his jacket, making himself comfortable in his bunk while he waited until his watch.

At least he would be entertained during that time.

I had to admit, it was nice to stay as a guest in someone's house. Of course, my own staff knew my preferences and under Peggy's management, the house ran like clockwork, but sometimes it was nice to have those little bumps. It took the Vanderbilt staff some time to learn that I would not bite their heads off if they arrived with my morning chocolate a little late, or if my clothes weren't put away exactly as I liked.

In fact, when I attempted to joke with a maid who was storing my hats, she almost teared up about the fact that she wasn't finished.

Still, it wasn't as if I spent most of my time monitoring the staff. Mostly I assisted Liz with her wedding plans, which had moved onto final approval of the menu. Each night a dish for the wedding was presented with dinner and we spent a good deal of time breaking down each facet of it. I quite enjoyed this, as I always enjoyed eating a bit more when it was cold out, but I could see Liz was fretting over everything.

James was not helping with that.

Liz had come to me practically in tears right after I had arrived, because James was refusing to speak to her. Eventually I had managed to calm her, drag James in by his tie, and force him to tell her what was wrong.

He had shifted on the chair, and I did my best to channel Will with a withering glare cast in his direction. "Why are you stalking the halls like you're ready to kill someone?"

"I'm not." He grumbled, although at my snort he ducked his head a bit. "It's just, things are difficult right now."

"Of course, it's difficult," I rolled my eyes. "A war is on."

"No, no it's not that." He sighed, "It's just, after the German attack Richard said he would have my family brought over for the wedding and they could stay here through the war."

Liz had reached out to gently grasp his hand. "Oh, I must thank Father, that is so kind of him."

"My father refused." James brought his hand up to pinch his nose. "Even just to come over for the wedding, he said they weren't going to let the Germans scare them away from their home."

At that Liz had knelt by his side. "Oh, James, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, I just wish he would have come over." James squeezed her hand. "It would be nice to know they were all safe."

"Well, we can at least make it so that when they do come over at some point, you can host them in style." I joked, trying to cheer him up. "Why don't you and Liz go out and look at something for the house? I'm quite sure there's something that needs to be bought."

At that Liz brightened, "Rugs! We need to buy plenty of rugs for the winter, and linen! Oh, and we must have curtains and I want your help with everything." She leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Please, James?"

James had looked at her, every inch the lovestruck fool. "Of course, darling. Seeing you shop always cheers me up."

"Especially because it's Father's money we're spending!" Liz smiled widely, "Although I will have to ask Oscar to come with, for propriety's sake."

It was nice to see at least one couple happy, even if James had to be prodded into it. Liz was always bubbly, for her the world was all sunshine and flowers. Of course, I would have to speak to her about a certain act before her wedding. I had no idea what she knew about the marital act, and I wasn't going to gift her the book Morgan had managed to find another copy of until I knew she wasn't going to be scarred by what it contained.

In fact, I was spending a good deal of time trying to figure out the best way to approach the issue while I readied for the holidays. Gifts for everyone had been purchased, or made, and it was while I was sorting them that a maid had appeared in the sitting room I had been lent. "Mrs. Reichster, to see you ma'am."

"Oh," I set aside the handkerchief I had sewn for James. "Please, see her in."

Sophie arrived in a moment, a smile on her face and her hair an even lighter shade of blonde. Her skin had a sun kissed look to it, and she was all aflutter when the door closed. "Oh, Anastasia, it was so wonderful!"

I gestured to the chair across from me. "I take it you enjoyed Florida?"

"Yes!" She almost squealed. "It was warm, and everyone was kind, and I met the most wonderful man."

"A sailor?"

"And an officer."

"Well, tell me everything! I'm all ears."