Chapter 11: Not a Drop to Drink
Belmoran Island, 1842
Ross entered his home and didn't stop to gather his thoughts. He feared if he did, he would never be able to leave. The events of the night made it seem as though years had passed even though it had only been mere hours.
Ross was not sure if his mother was awake, but he hoped she was. He didn't want to leave a note, not after he promised her that he would not leave her behind again, unless he had no choice. Lucy was his fiancée and the love of his life, so by all respects, he did have no choice, but he knew his mother would not see it that way, especially since it would be a painful reminder of what happened with Charlotte.
Ross found his mother buried in a book in the library. Since his father's passing, his mother spent a great deal of time reading his books. His father's collection was astounding, and it was her own way of keeping him close.
"Mother."
She looked up from her book and smiled when she saw Ross standing there, breaking his heart even more. "You're home late, my dear."
"I know, I am sorry," Ross stood in the doorway, refusing to step forward. "Something has come up, mother."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Lucy's mother has taken ill," he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "She is leaving tonight, and I am going with her."
His mother slammed the book shut and stood quickly. "No, Ross."
He felt gut churn seeing the look on her face. It was the same betrayal that she had shown when he left the first time. "Lucy is my fiancée, mother. I have to go with her. She cannot grieve her mother alone."
"She will not be alone, she has a family!" His mother protested. "Your place is here, Ross! Shorewind needs you, and I do too. I cannot be alone anymore."
"You won't be!" Ross hurried forward and placed his hands on his mother's shoulders. "Mother, we will not be gone long. Lucy and I will come back, I swear it! But I need to be by her side, you know I do."
"Why must you always do the noble thing, Ross?" His mother asked, tears in her eyes. "For once, my son, be selfish! Be selfish for me!"
He was being selfish. He was not doing the noble thing. He was lying to the face of the women who had given him life, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. He couldn't even look her in the eye, because if he did then all of the events of the day would come back to remind him that he had murdered a man. But James would have done worse if Ross had not intervened... He would have raped Lucy.
"Ross..." His mother reached forward to stroke his face. "Lucy is a wonderful girl. I saw that the moment I set eyes on her, the moment she care forward with the truth of her circumstance. She is no Charlotte, but she cannot take you away from me!"
"She is not," Ross took his hands off his mother's shoulders. "But if you were dying, mother, I would want to be by your side, and I would not want to be alone. I am big enough to admit that. Losing a mother..." He sighed, "Even Lucy knows the pain of that."
Another lie. Lucy wouldn't be by her mother's bedside. Ross wished he could feel remorse for what he was doing, but the moment he allowed himself to feel was the moment he realized the brevity of what he did, what he was going to do, all for Lucy. And he knew he would do it again, all for her. That was why he couldn't allow himself to feel.
"I came here tonight to gather my things," Ross continued. "I will go with Lucy to London to be with her during the course of her mother's illness. When it is all over, I will come back, mother. You must trust that I will. Lucy and I will return to Belmoran, we will marry here, and we will have a family here."
His mother sighed and stood back, a hard look on her face that must have mirrored his own. "Swear it to me, Ross."
"Mother..."
"On your life, honor, and love for me, you will swear it," she said. "Swear to me that both you and Lucy will return. Swear it now."
Ross wished that was a promise he could keep, and he hoped he could. But he wanted to give his mother a peace of mind.
Ross sank to both his knees in front of his mother and took her hands in his, looking up right into her eyes.
"I swear," he whispered, "on my life, my honor, and my love and devotion for you, mother, that I will return with Lucy. Both of us."
That seemed enough for his mother, and he took it in stride. It was enough to bring her some ease for the moment. But now, he had to finish what he started. He and Lucy would not be leaving eh island together, and chances were he would never see the love of his life again. But if there was a God and some courage left in him, he would fight and not stop fighting until he was reunited with her.
Because if ever there was a love worth fighting for, theirs was it.
XXX
Voyage to Portsmouth, 1843
Ross took a few gulps of whisky from his flask while glancing out towards the open ocean. He figured it was desperation, but he could have sworn that he saw land on the horizon. Of course, it could also have been the whisky. Either way, he needed to be in Hertfordshire, and soon. Although there was no telling if Lucy was really there. She could be anywhere, and Ross didn't know if he had the lifetime it would probably take to find her, but he would do that if he had to.
Glancing down at his flask, he sighed. The last time he had turned to drink in order to calm his nerves was when he left home the first time, after his falling out with Charlotte. Only then he had imbibed a little more, turning to it for reasons beyond his unsteady nerves. Charlotte had been his first real and true heartbreak, but their union was never built on the sort of love he had for Lucy. Still, her leaving had driven him to such actions, and now he feared what his distance from Lucy would do to him. The events of that night played again and again in his mind. Should he have killed James? He could have pulled him off of her and avoided murder entirely. Then he would not be parted from Lucy, and his heart wouldn't be trapped behind the wall of self-pity that constricted and suffocated it.
No... Ross did not care if the murder haunted him for the rest of his years. James deserved to die. Ross was furious at the thought of ever considering him to be a friend. But it was his friendship with James that had brought him to Lucy, so he could not say that nothing came of it.
He brought me to her, and then he took me away from her. That is a very divine and cruel paradox...
"Put that down, Ross."
Ross frowned and turned to see Charlotte standing there, arms crossed over her breasts, and a very disapproving look on her face. "Excuse me?"
"The flask," she said. "Put it down. You're not that sort of man."
Ross noticed then that he was holding the flask to his lips and he quickly lowered it. "Bloody hell..."
"When it becomes reflex, it is time to put it away," Charlotte strode forward and gently pried it from his hand. "If you want to succeed in this endeavor, you need to keep a clear head."
"I know," he said. "It's not a miracle cure by any means, but it... It's been my solace."
"I've not seen you partake," Charlotte replied, confused.
"I never did in front of you," Ross informed her sullenly. "I did not drink myself into a stupor, but some nights it was the only way I could keep from banging my head against the wall or going mad with the thought of being away from Lucy and not knowing where she is or if she is safe. I murdered a man for her, and the idea that I would to it again did not help either. It clouded my thoughts enough to keep them from ruining me, but I never drank more than what I needed."
"And now you will not have to," Charlotte stepped forward and tossed the flask overboard. Ross watched it fall into the roaring waters below, and he chuckled.
"There is more drink on board, you know."
"And if I have to, I will throw it all into the ocean," she replied simply.
"The crew will have your hide."
She shrugged. "I've lived around enough salty brained sailors on Clayton, they do not frighten me. But you spiraling into a deep, dark hold of drink and self pity does, Ross."
He sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, grow a spine again!" Charlotte snapped. "I did not come along to see you wither. You need to get your head out of whatever it is that haunts you, and keep your eyes forward, Ross."
"You've no idea what it is that haunts me," Ross said.
"Because you won't tell me," Charlotte replied. "And it is not as if I haven't tried to get you to tell me either. I let you into my home because it was the right thing to do, and I do not regret it, Ross. Maybe it was for my own selfish needs as well, the thought of being the person that you depended on. Because I loved you and it appealed to me to have you in my care... But I see now that you are fighting a greater battle, and it's easier won if you have someone to be your ally."
Ross shook his head. "I'm going to find Lucy, that is the only battle I am fighting."
"But why did you lose her in the first place?" Charlotte asked. "What caused your separation? Why was she taken from you?"
Ross really wished he had his flask back now. "Charlotte..."
"What happened on Belmoran, Ross?" Charlotte asked. "What really happened?"
Ross pushed away from the railing and tucked his hand in his pockets. "It is best that you do not know."
"And I will not find out eventually?" She pressed. "It is best that I hear from you."
"Charlotte, don't..."
"What happened on Belmoran, Ross?"
"Charlotte, please!"
"What happened?!" She snapped.
"I killed a man!" He shouted, immediately regretting it, but he didn't stop there. "I shot a man and killed him because he was trying to rape the woman I loved. I had no other impulse. The pistol was in my hand before I knew it, and I shot him. He died right in front of me, and my life fell apart. My love fell apart. I did it to save her and in the end I lost her. That is what happened on Belmoran, Charlotte..." He breathed in, seeing the look of horror on her face and regretting ever allowing her to push him to the truth that he needed to admit. "I told you that it was best that you did not know."
With that, he pushed past her and strode away towards the quarterdeck. He did not turn around to look back at her, but kept his eyes forward. That was all he could do now.
One step at a time, eyes always forward.
XXX
Grenmar, Derbyshire
Lydia sat on the garden bench and breathed in the fresh air. She could feel the chill of winter which was not far off now. The trees were losing their leaves, and the flowers were all gone, the brilliant colors faded away into memory that would return again when spring came alone. And by spring, perhaps her own life would be changed beyond recognition.
She fiddled with the note that Fredrick had written her, but did not open it. She had read it enough times for it to break her heart over and over again.
He loved her... Fredrick loved her, and she loved him. From the moment they set eyes on one another, her heart had not settled. And when it was said that he and Lucy would be betrothed, Lydia had felt her heart shatter once more. She knew why it had to be done, and she knew her sister wanted none of it, but knowing that she could never be with the man she was realizing she could not live without made it hurt even more.
What was she going to do if Lucy was forced to marry Fredrick? She would have to watch two people she loved live a miserable life. There was no guarantee this mad plan of Uncle Robert's would work. She wished there was something more she could do.
"Lydia?"
She jumped and quickly tucked the note away when she heard the sound of a man approaching her from behind. Thanks to the speed at which her heart was now racing, she knew who it was.
She stood slowly and turned, forcing out a smile. "Mr. Doyle," she curtsied. "Out for a walk?"
He folded his hands behind him and shrugged. "I suppose so, I could not stay inside and marinate on your uncle's letter forever. Where is your sister?"
"I could not tell you," Lydia chuckled. "Lucy has always had her own agenda, even from when we were little girls. But whatever she's doing, it's certainly not wasting time. It would not surprise me if she was working through executing that master plan of hers."
"Indeed," Fredrick smiled. "She so much as said to hell with your uncle's plan."
"Can you blame her? She loves another man," Lydia winced. "No offense, of course. But Lucy has never been one to let another tell her how to save herself. She's been her own hero, that was what inspires me about her the most. She does not understand it when someone else comes to her rescue, she always needs to be the one to fix things."
"She's an admirable woman, your sister," Fredrick replied. "Both of you are. Most men I know would break under the pressure that has been put upon the two of you."
Lydia smiled. "Thank you."
Fredrick sighed and ran a hand over his hair before stepping forward. "Lydia... My note..."
"I read it," she whispered before he could finish. "All of it. Many times."
"You must know that I mean every word," Fredrick continued. "My timing could have been better, of course, but I could not hold my feelings back any longer. Since I saw you..."
"Please, Fredrick," Lydia stepped back. "Do not continue."
"But... I thought you..." Fredrick frowned. "Did my words offend you?"
"Not at all. I read your note," she said, praying that her breaking heart would not betray her intent. She needed to do this for her sister. "I..." She breathed in deep before looking him in the eye. "I appreciate your honesty, Fredrick... But I..."
She saw the realization in his eyes, and the pain it caused made it hard for her to breathe. "You do not feel the same."
God forgive me.
"No."
Fredrick looked down and nodded slowly. "I suppose I should have guessed. You are your uncle's niece after all. Loyalty above all else prevails in the end."
I love you...
"I'm sorry."
Lydia turned to walk away, but Fredrick's voice stopped her.
"What did you do with my note, if I may ask?"
Lydia tensed, but she didn't turn around. "I burnt it."
She then kept walking, not daring to turn to see what pain her words had caused the man she loved. Even if Lucy did not intend on seeing her betrothal to Fredrick through, there could be no romance between him and Lydia. She couldn't risk her sister's safety in order to chase her affections. There was too much at stake.
I love you, Fredrick, but I love Lucy more. I'm so sorry.
Despite that truth, when Lydia found herself alone, she collapsed in a pile of her own misery, beating the ground with her fists until the pain was too much to bear.
Until the pain mirrored what she was feeling in her heart.
___________________
Author's note: Blood runs thicker than water, maybe?
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