The Spells of Paradise

Chapter 13: Within the Wilting Rose

Chapter 13: Within the Wilting Rose

On the road to Portsmouth

For Lucy, the following day carried the weight of a year. Each passing hour was heavier than the next, every moment a trial to fight her way through. In her mind, she knew the gravity of her situation now, but in her heart all she wanted to do was deny it. The note she had read burnt a hole in the bag she had stuffed it in, as she was unable to bring herself to destroy it. It was the only piece of paper that explained what Bertha Denning had told her all those nights ago. With that note, it all made sense. Without it, her words were still the ramblings of a mad woman, and Lucy's actions turned to that of a weak girl, ready to jump and run from any harsh comments sent her way.

Lucy pushed those thoughts out of her mind, for they were far too outlandish for her to even comprehend. She thought to laugh, and pretend as though this was all someone's way of a sick joke, but she knew her mother's hand; she had written the note. It was all true, but Lucy continued to ignore it and stare out the window.

Why bother thinking about the brevity of her life? Why ponder on the sorrow of losing not one, but two dear friends? Why waste time with toxic thoughts of how her entire life was a terrible lie? After all, she got the adventure she wanted, didn't she? An interesting life void of the base boredoms within the comings and goings of proper society. Lucy got her desire, she was being whisked somewhere far away. She was running away from the lie of a life she had in Lanfore and the heavy one she lived in London. Instead of finding all the excuses to stay, Lucy was leaving. And whether or not she ever wanted to even begin to fathom the note and what words it contained, she would never have to do it with the fear of seeing anyone she knew ever again.

They were all behind her now, like a dusty road of disappearing memories.

Lucy knew what some people would do in her situation, they would weep. They would squander in self-pity, and demand answers from anyone and everyone. They would pray and, in doing so, overestimate God and His power. They would lay the blame on Him for throwing them their lot. People leaned on the divine when tragedy struck, but denied it when their lives were going exactly the way they wanted. People didn't give thanks, only blame. In this situation, that was all they would be doing, to God and to their friends and family.

Well, Lucy was avoiding that, wasn't she? She wasn't going to blame anyone. In fact, she would probably never see anyone to blame ever again. People hardly realized how easy it was simply to deny it all and run away. It was so easy.

"When we arrive at Portsmouth, you won't have to pay your way on my ship," Ross assured her. "I'll have the crew arrange the best quarters for you, and the journey itself should not be arduous."

"Don't put yourself out," Lucy said, looking up at him as their carriage rode smoothly on the road. "Really, I'll take any cabin you have available. Even the brig will suffice."

"Lucy, I am not going to put you in just any cabin, let alone the brig," Ross frowned at her. "I want to take care of you."

"I asked you to take me away from home, Ross," she reminded him, "you don't have to go out of your way to take care of me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Ross nodded slowly. "I can see that. I can tell when someone has never had anyone to truly look after them, to the point where they feel the need to do so themselves..." Then, he leaned forward, looking her right in the eyes. "To the point where they refuse to let anyone even try."

"There's nothing wrong with a woman who knows what's best for her."

"I am not saying that," he assured her. "But would it be so bad to accept a helping hand?"