Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
Note: I’ve mentioned it before, but I wanted to say again: some of the references, such as speech patterns and slang, and especially to songs, may not be accurate for the time period. I simply cannot learn enough about the music of the period with any sense of accuracy, and using songs we may be more familiar with help set the mood better, anyway IMO.
**Disclaimer – Though inspired in part by people who exist in reality, this story is not meant to represent them in any literal way.
On the rising tide Chapter 14
Adam had the stable boy roused to bring the carriage out, drawn by the two sturdiest horses which remained in the city. Though there was enough room (barely) for them all to ride back to the aingeal, none of them would be riding from the ship to the place where they would meet the men who would claim their cargo. That was what would be riding in the carriage, since it would take several trips for them to carry it themselves.
The night was dark, the torches along the streets casting more shadows than light. Many were not even burning, whether unlit by oversight or blown out by the wind. Each breath was visible like a cloud of smoke coming from their mouths and noses. The moisture they exhaled seemed to hit the bitter air and form tiny ice crystals, remaining suspended for a moment before disappearing.
No one in the company knew what to say. The shock of Finn’s true identity and then news of the engagement, on top of the anxiety of making such a dangerous illegal exchange overwhelming their tired minds. When they reached the harbor, the crates were loaded up swiftly and silently, and still, each man would need to carry one in order to deliver them in one trip.
“What are you doing?” Larry asked Carra as she lifted one of the heavy boxes and prepared to follow.
“I can help carry it for a while, at least.” She told him, genuinely surprised at his question. She had never imagined he had intended for her not to help. “That way, when one person gets tired, there is someone to relieve them.”
“No.” Larry said with a bitter laugh and a shake of his head. “You’re staying right here with your da and Fi- Fiona. We’re going into a neighborhood run by fugitives and smugglers, Carra.”
“Weare fugitives and smugglers, Larry.” Carra told him with a roll of her eyes.
“Damn it, Carra, can’t you listen to me once?” Larry complained, and Carra turned back to face him once more, frowning deeply.
“I do listen. Just because I don’t always do what you tell me to do doesn’t mean I don’t listen.”
“That’s exactly what it means! Besides, ‘always’ you say? Remind me of one instance in the recent past that you’ve actually done what I told you to do?” Larry demanded, the two of them stopping in the middle of the road, the others soon stopping and turning to see why they were falling behind.
“Not two nights ago, in bed, when you asked me to …” Carra started defiantly, but her final words could not be heard over Larry bellowing at her to hush. His face was bright red, even in the dark of night everyone could see that.
“Jaysus but you’re the most odious, brazen woman!” He told her, his voice falling back to a normal level as he brushed past her, his own arms burdened by a heavy crate.
“You weren’t complaining the other night.” She retorted with a devilish grin. The others could barely hide their amusement, though for Larry’s sake, they tried. They could tease him later. Tonight they knew they needed to work together peacefully.
Adam had somehow talked Fiona into staying with the ship, and as Carra had already taken up the last crate, Bono was the only man unburdened. It was difficult enough for him to keep pace with the others. He would hurry along and get way ahead of them only to have to stop and wait. Next he would find some fascinating design in the ice that hung from the eves of every building and wind up studying it so long that someone had to come back to get him because they’d left him behind.
Before long he started singing and walking in stuttered time, nearly dancing to his mournful song.
“..But in Kilkenny, it is reported, On marble stones there as black as ink, With gold and silver I would support her. But I'll sing no more 'till I get a drink!” Here he paused to pat all of his pockets in search of the flask which Adam had wisely and without his knowledge lifted off of him earlier.
He finally shrugged in acceptance of the fact that he seemed to have lost whatever it was he had been looking for. He couldn’t quite remember what that was. Yet he remembered right where he had left of in his song.
“For I'm drunk toda-a-ay, and I'm seldom so-ober! A handsome rover from town to town! Ah, but I am sick now, my days are numbered, Come all you young men and lay me down. Come all you young men and lay me down.”
“Bono for christsakes! Do you want every set of ears in the neighborhood to hear us pass?” Larry asked, scowling over his shoulder at his noisy mate.
“At least you could sing something a little less depressing.” Adam added, snickering along with the others as they laughed at his joke. Bono immediately responded by breaking out in a loud, boisterous manner singing,
“I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts! There they are all standing in a row! Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head! Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist, That's what the showman said…”
This started Adam, Edge and Carra laughing so hard that hey had to stop again. All of their energy was going into holding tight to their crates and not dropping them from laughing so hard. Larry had managed to restrain his amusement until Bono looked over at him, the last man with a straight face, and gave him a drunken, lopsided grin.
The amusement pushed it’s way up out of Larry’s chest and twisted his mouth up into a smile despite his will, and soon he was laughing, too. Bono let out a round of laughter as well, feeling infinitely better than he had all day. Being surrounded by his mates was exactly what he needed, he realized. A pang of sorrow threatened as he thought of the scene at the harbor, just hours earlier.
He had watched helplessly as Colleen had been escorted to her fathers carriage. He’d seen the way the man looked down on his nose at Paul and Larry as they explained the events which led to Colleen’s presence on the aingeal. He had seen him offend the men by thinking they were asking for payment for her transportation, or perhaps for rescuing her at all.
Larry had been so offended that he had not spoken another word. Paul had been the one to deny the man’s attempt to pay them. Colleen had sat in the carriage, keeping her head down and remaining silent. Bono had stood on the gangway and silently willed her to look up, to see him watching her. Waiting for her.
He wanted her to realize she was neither an object nor a slave to her father. He wanted her to climb out of the carriage and to run back to him without a word of explanation to that man. He wanted her to rush back into his arms and promise that she would not leave them. He wanted her to simply look at him, to look back just once. Even if it was to wave goodbye. She did nothing at all.
He had sought refuge for his breaking heart in the bottom of a bottle. Not the wisest decision, he knew that even now. Still, it helped numb him enough that he could laugh with his friends now. Also, he certainly wasn’t suffering the cold as dearly as they were.
The carriage driver pulled tight on the reigns and tried to soothe the horses as they grew cold and eager to move on. They lifted one foot and then the next alternately, walking in place as they stared blankly at the strange behavior of the people they were following.
“Right. Back to business, then.” Edge said, his voice still full of laughter as he adjusted his grip on the crate and started off toward the warehouse where the delivery was to be made.
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“They’ll be fine. I’ve never seen a more capable group of men in all my years.” Paul told Fiona when he found her standing in front of the porthole in the galley, watching the docks.
“They suit each other well.” Fiona agreed with a slight smile. Paul had been as surprised as any of them at the revelation of Fiona’s identity, but he was adjusting considerably better. Fiona credited it to his relationship to Carra. It was flattering, to say the least, to think he saw anything of his daughter in Fiona. She aspired to be so strong, someday, but often doubted she would ever achieve it.
She could not bring herself to sit down, she was too anxious. Too much had happened too quickly, and every nerve in her body was buzzing. She paced the length of the narrow room, around the end of the long table which was bolted to the floor, and back to the porthole.
*Mew!*
“Lardence! I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Fiona greeted the small black cat as it rubbed the length of it’s furry body against her legs. She could hear it’s loud purring even before she stooped to pick it up, scratching gently behind its ears.
“I was beginning to think Captain Mullen had done you in once and for all.” She joked, knowing that despite Larry’s dislike for the cat, he would not do any creature harm for that reason alone. The animals warmth and softness in her arms soothed her nerves considerably, and so she held him and stroked his fur while she waited.
It was not long before her eyelids became too heavy, her muscles aching for relief from standing in one place. She wanted desperately to wait for their safe return before seeking sleep, but sleep, it seemed, had come seeking her. She sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, her forehead resting against her folded arms on the table. Lardence curled up in a ball on the table beside her and was soon asleep.
She only meant to rest for a moment, to close her weary eyes and then be up again in a moment, watching and waiting for the return of her friends. The next thing she knew, she felt a cold hand against her shoulder, shaking her gently.
“Fiona!” She heard Carra calling her name, drawing her out of her slumber. “Fiona! Why on earth are you sleeping in the galley?” she asked as Fiona lifted her head and momentarily wondered the same thing herself.
“I…” she muttered, clearing the sleep from her throat and eyes. “Oh! I was waiting for all of you!” She said, the events of the evening rushing back to her. “It went well?” She asked, scanning the room for some sign of the men.
“It did.” Carra replied with a smile. “The men are staying with Adam tonight. I think he would have preferred to have you stay with him, but the others would not have it. They reminded him that it is bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding until they meet in the chapel.”
“What?” Fiona laughed at the thought of the men spouting such superstitious nonsense.
“They were also all quiet drunk by that time.” Carra laughed. “The exchange went well, and they decided to celebrate. I fear the state they’ll be in by morning.” Fiona laughed as well, rolling her eyes. To think she had been worried about them, and they had been drinking and talking of her wedding.
“Come on. Off to bed with ye, and in the morning we’ll get you ready for the wedding, too. Adam said he’d send a carriage to take us to the ceremony, but there’s plenty to be done before that.” Carra said, gesturing for Fiona to rise, which she did. Carra led her to the captain and first mates chambers, letting her in to Paul’s cabin.
“Thank you.” Fiona told her in earnest.
“My father was the one who said you could sleep here, not I.” Carra teased, winking at the young girl. She knew that she was not thanking her for the room, but for so much more. “Sleep well tonight.” She said as she turned and let herself into Larry’s cabin. Fiona laughed at the fact that she was so accustomed now, to sleeping in his bed, that it didn’t seem to matter to Carra whether or not Larry was in it.
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The day was brilliantly sunny, for London in December. It wasn’t warm, exactly, but it was the best they could really have dared hope for. Carra and Fiona had shocked plenty of the gentlewomen along the street as they marched along in their workmen’s clothing. As timid as she had been the day before, with Adam, Fiona felt a certain freedom today in her ability to ignore their shocked expressions.
Carra certainly drew more attention to herself, with her fiery red hair and those dazzlingly green eyes which dared anyone who thought she did not belong to tell her as much. None had been so bold.
The seamstress at the first shop had been daring enough to insist that they had nothing to sell which they would be interested in. Carra had tossed her hair over her shoulder in haughty indignation and withdrew several multiple pound notes from her pocket, scanning them with her eyes before stuffing them away again. The woman had stammered in shock, trying to convince them to stay, but Carra had taken great pleasure in leaving without spending so much as a shilling.
The women at the next shop had been no different, but finally they found a woman and her daughter with a small shop who were more than happy to accept their business before they had any idea how much profit they could make.
Given the urgency of the order, the woman produced several finished or nearly finished dresses other women had ordered and offered to sell Fiona one of them. That way, all it would take would be a few alterations to fit her frame. There was simply no way to produce a dress lovely enough to be wed in within a few hours time.
Fiona had made sure they received a generous tip for their kindness, thanking them profusely for going out of their way. They were the only kind people she had met in London, she told them when they tried to return part of the tip, and to be honest, they reminded her very much of her mother and herself. She had not realized just how much she missed her mother until she realized that she would not be there to see her married.
Later, aboard the aingeal once more, Carra was helping her into the lovely spring green silk gown. It was by far the most beautiful dress Fiona had ever owned. And, she realized when she glanced in the mirror, the most revealing.
Although the skirt was full and bustled properly, the top of the dress was quite snug. It pressed her breasts together and upwards, creating a gentle swell of cleavage. The sleeves wrapped around the tops of her forearms, leaving her shoulders and a portion of her back exposed. She hardly recognized herself.
“Fiona?” Carra asked, having finished fastening the bustle and moving on to collect the necklace for her to display on the generously revealed milky white skin.
“Hmm?” Fiona replied distractedly, enraptured by the lady in the mirror.
“I hope it is not to bold of me to ask, but I feel I must.” Carra said, draping the slender gold chain around Fiona’s throat and managing the clasp. She smiled and nodded to herself as she stepped back and looked at her young friend appraisingly.
“What?” Fiona replied, tearing her attention away from the mirror and looking Carra in the eye.
“Do you know what to expect?” Carra asked, and Fiona’s brow wrinkled as she considered the question. “I mean, tonight?” Fiona’s eyes widened at the thought, her fair skin flushing pink.
“I… I have some idea, of course…” She told the older woman, looking away shyly. Carra sighed heavily and chewed on her lower lip. “I mean, I know enough that I knew I was afraid when I thought I would not have a proper wedding night.”
“Are you afraid?” Carra asked gently. “Even knowing the man you’ll share your marriage bed with is Adam?”
“I’m not afraid of Adam… not really." Fiona said nervously. “I mean, I know he would not do something with the intent of causing me pain or discomfort. But …” Fiona started to ask something, but paused, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment.
“Go on.” Carra urged.
“It does hurt, though? Doesn’t it?” She asked, her deep green eyes wide with innocent fear and apprehension. Carra hid her smile behind her hand for a moment, not wanting the girl to think she was laughing at her.
“Well, yes, at first. It can.” She finally told her somberly, taking the brush in her hands and moving up behind the girl to start fighting her golden tangles. “But it doesn’t always. And, in truth, if it’s done right…” she said, pausing to search for the proper words. Fiona turned to look her in the eye, wondering what she was about to say.
“It can be beautiful. Amazing. Wonderful.” She said, only recently having truly discovered these things herself. She had known a bit about the sort of physical gratification a man and a woman could grant one another, but until she and Larry had been lovers, she had not realized the depth of that.
Fiona’s heart was racing at the thought. Everything she had known about the things which passed between a man and his wife she had learned from her mother. That had consisted mainly of bruises and tears. Violent sounds in the night, the fear in her mothers eyes when it was time for bed and her father was home and not passed out from the drink.
Yet, somewhere, she had suspected there could be more. The morning she had woken in Adam’s arms had been very pleasant. She had thought of it often, since then, kept it tucked away in her heart and pulled the memory out on cold nights. She smiled now even, just thinking about it.
“Don’t be afraid, I guess, is what I’m trying to tell you. Afraid of what might hurt, or afraid to tell him if it does. An extra glass or two of wine at dinner might not hurt, either.” Carra said with a chuckle, and Fiona laughed as well.
“Carra?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you, again.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’ve often thought of you as a little brother.” She said with a laugh, and soon both girls were giggling madly at the thought.
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“Lord Clayton, I’m sorry but I cannot marry you today.” The protestant minister told him, shaking his head vehemently. “You’re required to announce your intent to wed a fortnight before the actual ceremony. That way it can be announced for three Sundays before the couple is wed, and if there is any reason they should not be wed it can be made known.”
“But we need to leave today!” Adam told the mousy little man.
“You will leave unwed. There is nothing I can do about that.” He informed him solemnly.
“I can make sure you are well compensated for the special consideration.” Adam told the man, reaching into his pocket.
“It is not money that makes it impossible!” the man told him, his slender hand resting on Adam’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, Father?” Bono interrupted politely.
“I’m not a Priest, you don’t have to call me Father.” The minister informed him.
“Right. Sorry.” Bono said, chewing absently on his thumbnail. “You see, the thing is… Adam and Fiona, his intended, they’re in a situation where the only possibility for happiness rests on their marriage. Today, now.” The minister started to object, but Bono placed one of his big, warm hand on the mans shoulder, holding the other hand up in silent request that he be allowed to finish. The man pursed his lips and nodded curtly.
“If they are not wed today, there is no hope in their future. Surely, you would rather see a family bound together in love than seal their fate. It would not be unheard of for this to end in violence, possibly even death.” He told the man, and Adam, standing behind the minister raised his eyebrows in shock at the conviction in Bono’s argument.
“I… I … would not wish to see that, of course. But the crown requires…” The minister stammered and stuttered, scratching his head as he considered the situation more carefully now.
“Isn’t it written, first Corinthians 13 , And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. There must be ways around the laws of men which are imperfect. If they cannot turn to the church at this time, where can they turn?” Bono pled Adam’s case to the man, whose shoulders sagged under the weight of it. Finally, the minister nodded his head.
“I can … perhaps, I can create the papers with the date of the announcement as in late October. That would take care of that particular ban. But I must ask… is the bride Protestant or Catholic?” He was wringing his bony hands at this point, looking as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
“Eh… well…” Bono replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “What if she were to convert?”
“That is not so simple.” The man sighed, and Adam could tell that he genuinely wanted to help them. He was so close to achieving what he wanted, yet had the feeling as if it were going to be yanked out of his reach at any moment. The minister turned back to look at him over his robed shoulder and saw the fragile hope in Adam’s eyes. Closing his own eyes and nodding, he turned back to Bono.
“Bring her here, as soon as you can. I’ll gather the proper documents and see what there is to be done.”
“Bless you, sir.” Bono replied with a grin and a nod at Adam. He shook the ministers hand fervently and hurried back toward the other side of the room, where Adam had wandered off to when Bono had taken over the conversation.
“I cannot guarantee it will hold up, should it be closely scrutinized and challenged!” The man called after him, but Bono did not seem concerned in the least.
**Disclaimer – Though inspired in part by people who exist in reality, this story is not meant to represent them in any literal way.
On the rising tide Chapter 14
Adam had the stable boy roused to bring the carriage out, drawn by the two sturdiest horses which remained in the city. Though there was enough room (barely) for them all to ride back to the aingeal, none of them would be riding from the ship to the place where they would meet the men who would claim their cargo. That was what would be riding in the carriage, since it would take several trips for them to carry it themselves.
The night was dark, the torches along the streets casting more shadows than light. Many were not even burning, whether unlit by oversight or blown out by the wind. Each breath was visible like a cloud of smoke coming from their mouths and noses. The moisture they exhaled seemed to hit the bitter air and form tiny ice crystals, remaining suspended for a moment before disappearing.
No one in the company knew what to say. The shock of Finn’s true identity and then news of the engagement, on top of the anxiety of making such a dangerous illegal exchange overwhelming their tired minds. When they reached the harbor, the crates were loaded up swiftly and silently, and still, each man would need to carry one in order to deliver them in one trip.
“What are you doing?” Larry asked Carra as she lifted one of the heavy boxes and prepared to follow.
“I can help carry it for a while, at least.” She told him, genuinely surprised at his question. She had never imagined he had intended for her not to help. “That way, when one person gets tired, there is someone to relieve them.”
“No.” Larry said with a bitter laugh and a shake of his head. “You’re staying right here with your da and Fi- Fiona. We’re going into a neighborhood run by fugitives and smugglers, Carra.”
“Weare fugitives and smugglers, Larry.” Carra told him with a roll of her eyes.
“Damn it, Carra, can’t you listen to me once?” Larry complained, and Carra turned back to face him once more, frowning deeply.
“I do listen. Just because I don’t always do what you tell me to do doesn’t mean I don’t listen.”
“That’s exactly what it means! Besides, ‘always’ you say? Remind me of one instance in the recent past that you’ve actually done what I told you to do?” Larry demanded, the two of them stopping in the middle of the road, the others soon stopping and turning to see why they were falling behind.
“Not two nights ago, in bed, when you asked me to …” Carra started defiantly, but her final words could not be heard over Larry bellowing at her to hush. His face was bright red, even in the dark of night everyone could see that.
“Jaysus but you’re the most odious, brazen woman!” He told her, his voice falling back to a normal level as he brushed past her, his own arms burdened by a heavy crate.
“You weren’t complaining the other night.” She retorted with a devilish grin. The others could barely hide their amusement, though for Larry’s sake, they tried. They could tease him later. Tonight they knew they needed to work together peacefully.
Adam had somehow talked Fiona into staying with the ship, and as Carra had already taken up the last crate, Bono was the only man unburdened. It was difficult enough for him to keep pace with the others. He would hurry along and get way ahead of them only to have to stop and wait. Next he would find some fascinating design in the ice that hung from the eves of every building and wind up studying it so long that someone had to come back to get him because they’d left him behind.
Before long he started singing and walking in stuttered time, nearly dancing to his mournful song.
“..But in Kilkenny, it is reported, On marble stones there as black as ink, With gold and silver I would support her. But I'll sing no more 'till I get a drink!” Here he paused to pat all of his pockets in search of the flask which Adam had wisely and without his knowledge lifted off of him earlier.
He finally shrugged in acceptance of the fact that he seemed to have lost whatever it was he had been looking for. He couldn’t quite remember what that was. Yet he remembered right where he had left of in his song.
“For I'm drunk toda-a-ay, and I'm seldom so-ober! A handsome rover from town to town! Ah, but I am sick now, my days are numbered, Come all you young men and lay me down. Come all you young men and lay me down.”
“Bono for christsakes! Do you want every set of ears in the neighborhood to hear us pass?” Larry asked, scowling over his shoulder at his noisy mate.
“At least you could sing something a little less depressing.” Adam added, snickering along with the others as they laughed at his joke. Bono immediately responded by breaking out in a loud, boisterous manner singing,
“I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts! There they are all standing in a row! Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head! Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist, That's what the showman said…”
This started Adam, Edge and Carra laughing so hard that hey had to stop again. All of their energy was going into holding tight to their crates and not dropping them from laughing so hard. Larry had managed to restrain his amusement until Bono looked over at him, the last man with a straight face, and gave him a drunken, lopsided grin.
The amusement pushed it’s way up out of Larry’s chest and twisted his mouth up into a smile despite his will, and soon he was laughing, too. Bono let out a round of laughter as well, feeling infinitely better than he had all day. Being surrounded by his mates was exactly what he needed, he realized. A pang of sorrow threatened as he thought of the scene at the harbor, just hours earlier.
He had watched helplessly as Colleen had been escorted to her fathers carriage. He’d seen the way the man looked down on his nose at Paul and Larry as they explained the events which led to Colleen’s presence on the aingeal. He had seen him offend the men by thinking they were asking for payment for her transportation, or perhaps for rescuing her at all.
Larry had been so offended that he had not spoken another word. Paul had been the one to deny the man’s attempt to pay them. Colleen had sat in the carriage, keeping her head down and remaining silent. Bono had stood on the gangway and silently willed her to look up, to see him watching her. Waiting for her.
He wanted her to realize she was neither an object nor a slave to her father. He wanted her to climb out of the carriage and to run back to him without a word of explanation to that man. He wanted her to rush back into his arms and promise that she would not leave them. He wanted her to simply look at him, to look back just once. Even if it was to wave goodbye. She did nothing at all.
He had sought refuge for his breaking heart in the bottom of a bottle. Not the wisest decision, he knew that even now. Still, it helped numb him enough that he could laugh with his friends now. Also, he certainly wasn’t suffering the cold as dearly as they were.
The carriage driver pulled tight on the reigns and tried to soothe the horses as they grew cold and eager to move on. They lifted one foot and then the next alternately, walking in place as they stared blankly at the strange behavior of the people they were following.
“Right. Back to business, then.” Edge said, his voice still full of laughter as he adjusted his grip on the crate and started off toward the warehouse where the delivery was to be made.
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“They’ll be fine. I’ve never seen a more capable group of men in all my years.” Paul told Fiona when he found her standing in front of the porthole in the galley, watching the docks.
“They suit each other well.” Fiona agreed with a slight smile. Paul had been as surprised as any of them at the revelation of Fiona’s identity, but he was adjusting considerably better. Fiona credited it to his relationship to Carra. It was flattering, to say the least, to think he saw anything of his daughter in Fiona. She aspired to be so strong, someday, but often doubted she would ever achieve it.
She could not bring herself to sit down, she was too anxious. Too much had happened too quickly, and every nerve in her body was buzzing. She paced the length of the narrow room, around the end of the long table which was bolted to the floor, and back to the porthole.
*Mew!*
“Lardence! I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Fiona greeted the small black cat as it rubbed the length of it’s furry body against her legs. She could hear it’s loud purring even before she stooped to pick it up, scratching gently behind its ears.
“I was beginning to think Captain Mullen had done you in once and for all.” She joked, knowing that despite Larry’s dislike for the cat, he would not do any creature harm for that reason alone. The animals warmth and softness in her arms soothed her nerves considerably, and so she held him and stroked his fur while she waited.
It was not long before her eyelids became too heavy, her muscles aching for relief from standing in one place. She wanted desperately to wait for their safe return before seeking sleep, but sleep, it seemed, had come seeking her. She sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, her forehead resting against her folded arms on the table. Lardence curled up in a ball on the table beside her and was soon asleep.
She only meant to rest for a moment, to close her weary eyes and then be up again in a moment, watching and waiting for the return of her friends. The next thing she knew, she felt a cold hand against her shoulder, shaking her gently.
“Fiona!” She heard Carra calling her name, drawing her out of her slumber. “Fiona! Why on earth are you sleeping in the galley?” she asked as Fiona lifted her head and momentarily wondered the same thing herself.
“I…” she muttered, clearing the sleep from her throat and eyes. “Oh! I was waiting for all of you!” She said, the events of the evening rushing back to her. “It went well?” She asked, scanning the room for some sign of the men.
“It did.” Carra replied with a smile. “The men are staying with Adam tonight. I think he would have preferred to have you stay with him, but the others would not have it. They reminded him that it is bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding until they meet in the chapel.”
“What?” Fiona laughed at the thought of the men spouting such superstitious nonsense.
“They were also all quiet drunk by that time.” Carra laughed. “The exchange went well, and they decided to celebrate. I fear the state they’ll be in by morning.” Fiona laughed as well, rolling her eyes. To think she had been worried about them, and they had been drinking and talking of her wedding.
“Come on. Off to bed with ye, and in the morning we’ll get you ready for the wedding, too. Adam said he’d send a carriage to take us to the ceremony, but there’s plenty to be done before that.” Carra said, gesturing for Fiona to rise, which she did. Carra led her to the captain and first mates chambers, letting her in to Paul’s cabin.
“Thank you.” Fiona told her in earnest.
“My father was the one who said you could sleep here, not I.” Carra teased, winking at the young girl. She knew that she was not thanking her for the room, but for so much more. “Sleep well tonight.” She said as she turned and let herself into Larry’s cabin. Fiona laughed at the fact that she was so accustomed now, to sleeping in his bed, that it didn’t seem to matter to Carra whether or not Larry was in it.
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The day was brilliantly sunny, for London in December. It wasn’t warm, exactly, but it was the best they could really have dared hope for. Carra and Fiona had shocked plenty of the gentlewomen along the street as they marched along in their workmen’s clothing. As timid as she had been the day before, with Adam, Fiona felt a certain freedom today in her ability to ignore their shocked expressions.
Carra certainly drew more attention to herself, with her fiery red hair and those dazzlingly green eyes which dared anyone who thought she did not belong to tell her as much. None had been so bold.
The seamstress at the first shop had been daring enough to insist that they had nothing to sell which they would be interested in. Carra had tossed her hair over her shoulder in haughty indignation and withdrew several multiple pound notes from her pocket, scanning them with her eyes before stuffing them away again. The woman had stammered in shock, trying to convince them to stay, but Carra had taken great pleasure in leaving without spending so much as a shilling.
The women at the next shop had been no different, but finally they found a woman and her daughter with a small shop who were more than happy to accept their business before they had any idea how much profit they could make.
Given the urgency of the order, the woman produced several finished or nearly finished dresses other women had ordered and offered to sell Fiona one of them. That way, all it would take would be a few alterations to fit her frame. There was simply no way to produce a dress lovely enough to be wed in within a few hours time.
Fiona had made sure they received a generous tip for their kindness, thanking them profusely for going out of their way. They were the only kind people she had met in London, she told them when they tried to return part of the tip, and to be honest, they reminded her very much of her mother and herself. She had not realized just how much she missed her mother until she realized that she would not be there to see her married.
Later, aboard the aingeal once more, Carra was helping her into the lovely spring green silk gown. It was by far the most beautiful dress Fiona had ever owned. And, she realized when she glanced in the mirror, the most revealing.
Although the skirt was full and bustled properly, the top of the dress was quite snug. It pressed her breasts together and upwards, creating a gentle swell of cleavage. The sleeves wrapped around the tops of her forearms, leaving her shoulders and a portion of her back exposed. She hardly recognized herself.
“Fiona?” Carra asked, having finished fastening the bustle and moving on to collect the necklace for her to display on the generously revealed milky white skin.
“Hmm?” Fiona replied distractedly, enraptured by the lady in the mirror.
“I hope it is not to bold of me to ask, but I feel I must.” Carra said, draping the slender gold chain around Fiona’s throat and managing the clasp. She smiled and nodded to herself as she stepped back and looked at her young friend appraisingly.
“What?” Fiona replied, tearing her attention away from the mirror and looking Carra in the eye.
“Do you know what to expect?” Carra asked, and Fiona’s brow wrinkled as she considered the question. “I mean, tonight?” Fiona’s eyes widened at the thought, her fair skin flushing pink.
“I… I have some idea, of course…” She told the older woman, looking away shyly. Carra sighed heavily and chewed on her lower lip. “I mean, I know enough that I knew I was afraid when I thought I would not have a proper wedding night.”
“Are you afraid?” Carra asked gently. “Even knowing the man you’ll share your marriage bed with is Adam?”
“I’m not afraid of Adam… not really." Fiona said nervously. “I mean, I know he would not do something with the intent of causing me pain or discomfort. But …” Fiona started to ask something, but paused, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment.
“Go on.” Carra urged.
“It does hurt, though? Doesn’t it?” She asked, her deep green eyes wide with innocent fear and apprehension. Carra hid her smile behind her hand for a moment, not wanting the girl to think she was laughing at her.
“Well, yes, at first. It can.” She finally told her somberly, taking the brush in her hands and moving up behind the girl to start fighting her golden tangles. “But it doesn’t always. And, in truth, if it’s done right…” she said, pausing to search for the proper words. Fiona turned to look her in the eye, wondering what she was about to say.
“It can be beautiful. Amazing. Wonderful.” She said, only recently having truly discovered these things herself. She had known a bit about the sort of physical gratification a man and a woman could grant one another, but until she and Larry had been lovers, she had not realized the depth of that.
Fiona’s heart was racing at the thought. Everything she had known about the things which passed between a man and his wife she had learned from her mother. That had consisted mainly of bruises and tears. Violent sounds in the night, the fear in her mothers eyes when it was time for bed and her father was home and not passed out from the drink.
Yet, somewhere, she had suspected there could be more. The morning she had woken in Adam’s arms had been very pleasant. She had thought of it often, since then, kept it tucked away in her heart and pulled the memory out on cold nights. She smiled now even, just thinking about it.
“Don’t be afraid, I guess, is what I’m trying to tell you. Afraid of what might hurt, or afraid to tell him if it does. An extra glass or two of wine at dinner might not hurt, either.” Carra said with a chuckle, and Fiona laughed as well.
“Carra?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you, again.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’ve often thought of you as a little brother.” She said with a laugh, and soon both girls were giggling madly at the thought.
******************************************************************
“Lord Clayton, I’m sorry but I cannot marry you today.” The protestant minister told him, shaking his head vehemently. “You’re required to announce your intent to wed a fortnight before the actual ceremony. That way it can be announced for three Sundays before the couple is wed, and if there is any reason they should not be wed it can be made known.”
“But we need to leave today!” Adam told the mousy little man.
“You will leave unwed. There is nothing I can do about that.” He informed him solemnly.
“I can make sure you are well compensated for the special consideration.” Adam told the man, reaching into his pocket.
“It is not money that makes it impossible!” the man told him, his slender hand resting on Adam’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, Father?” Bono interrupted politely.
“I’m not a Priest, you don’t have to call me Father.” The minister informed him.
“Right. Sorry.” Bono said, chewing absently on his thumbnail. “You see, the thing is… Adam and Fiona, his intended, they’re in a situation where the only possibility for happiness rests on their marriage. Today, now.” The minister started to object, but Bono placed one of his big, warm hand on the mans shoulder, holding the other hand up in silent request that he be allowed to finish. The man pursed his lips and nodded curtly.
“If they are not wed today, there is no hope in their future. Surely, you would rather see a family bound together in love than seal their fate. It would not be unheard of for this to end in violence, possibly even death.” He told the man, and Adam, standing behind the minister raised his eyebrows in shock at the conviction in Bono’s argument.
“I… I … would not wish to see that, of course. But the crown requires…” The minister stammered and stuttered, scratching his head as he considered the situation more carefully now.
“Isn’t it written, first Corinthians 13 , And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. There must be ways around the laws of men which are imperfect. If they cannot turn to the church at this time, where can they turn?” Bono pled Adam’s case to the man, whose shoulders sagged under the weight of it. Finally, the minister nodded his head.
“I can … perhaps, I can create the papers with the date of the announcement as in late October. That would take care of that particular ban. But I must ask… is the bride Protestant or Catholic?” He was wringing his bony hands at this point, looking as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
“Eh… well…” Bono replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “What if she were to convert?”
“That is not so simple.” The man sighed, and Adam could tell that he genuinely wanted to help them. He was so close to achieving what he wanted, yet had the feeling as if it were going to be yanked out of his reach at any moment. The minister turned back to look at him over his robed shoulder and saw the fragile hope in Adam’s eyes. Closing his own eyes and nodding, he turned back to Bono.
“Bring her here, as soon as you can. I’ll gather the proper documents and see what there is to be done.”
“Bless you, sir.” Bono replied with a grin and a nod at Adam. He shook the ministers hand fervently and hurried back toward the other side of the room, where Adam had wandered off to when Bono had taken over the conversation.
“I cannot guarantee it will hold up, should it be closely scrutinized and challenged!” The man called after him, but Bono did not seem concerned in the least.
You are wonderful!
