"What is real and what is not is for your heart to decide and for your heart to know." Colleen Houck, Tiger's Curse
----
XXXVII.
Tom's head flew back at the force of Eliza's fist.
His first thought was almighty pain as the warmth of the blood began to spill out of his nose and down his front.
His second thought was why on earth did he teach her how to do that?
As Tom tried to stop the blood with his hands as his head began to throb, a cloth napkin was quickly thrust into his hand
"I am so sorry, Captain," cried Mrs Banes. "I had no idea that she would do that!" she assured him.
"But I did," Tom struggled. He was not surprised at all, and he knew that he deserved it, no matter how noble his intentions had been. Toying with a woman's heart, even without meaning to, would be a capital offense in their eyes.
Mr Banes went off after his daughter, and Mrs Banes stayed with Tom as she helped to control his bleeding.
It took a good twenty minutes for the bleeding to stop, and a variant of steak to help with the swelling before Tom was able to properly and coherently communicate with his surroundings.
"Will you take some brandy?" Mrs Banes asked. "It will help with the pain."
"No, thank you, ma'am," Tom refused politely. "I never indulge."
She looked at him most peculiarly, but she did not press him on the issue. "I wish I had something to offer you then. I will send for the doctor, though."
Tom knew there was not much a doctor could do for him, but if it would settle the nerves of Mrs Banes, then he was not going to argue.
Tom needed to speak with Eliza, he needed to talk to her and make her understand his reasoning. Then, and only then, could he fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. A crooked nose would be an acceptable new attribute if she would accept him.
There was movement at the door, and Tom turned immediately, hoping to see Eliza there. But it was another woman, a young woman, with raven black hair, and bright, blue eyes. She was small and unassuming, but had a kind air about her, especially in the way that she looked over the situation in the drawing room.
"Do you need anything, Captain?" she asked, concerned.
"Oh, dear, I'd quite forgotten to make the introduction what with Eliza's antics. Captain, please allow me to introduce my other daughter, Katy, the Countess of Wilshire. Katy, this is Captain Buckley. Eliza just assaulted him."
It seemed fitting, in and amongst the pain and the stench of raw meat upon his nose, to finally put a face to the name. Katy was the person of whom Eliza spoke of most often, always describing her as her favourite person in the world.
Tom wished he could have made a better impression. "Milady," he greeted, bowing his head, though immediately regretting it. The sensation sent a wave of nauseating pain directly to his stomach, and he conditioned himself not to move again.
"Oh, no, please, Katy is just fine," Katy insisted.
"Can I speak with her?" Tom asked the room.
"Please understand, Captain. Eliza is a very passionate individual, and she is very upset with you. I am sorry to say it, but I am not at all surprised that she hit you," Katy confessed.
"Am I the only one living in hope that one day I will wake up to find a lady in that bedroom?" Mrs Banes asked facetiously.
"I am not surprised either," replied Tom. "In fact, I am the one who taught her how to properly throw a fist," he confessed. "I obviously taught her very well."
"Two heathens," muttered Mrs Banes.
Katy's blue eyes narrowed. "I cannot account for what she will do to you if you hurt her again, Captain," she warned. "Nor would I try to stop her."
Katy's eyes were strange, almost appearing too large for her face. They betrayed her thoughts vividly, and Tom could see the seriousness that she was trying to emulate in her warning. He appreciated her care for Eliza immensely.
"I don't plan to," he promised.
Katy nodded, accepting his response. "She is with Mr Banes in the kitchen," she told him. "Her hand hurts," she added.
For some reason, that made him laugh, and once again, he instantly regretted it as he groaned in pain.
"Come," beckoned Katy. "I will show you the way."
Tom followed her, steak in hand, out of the drawing room, and down a succession of corridors and one flight of stairs before they came to a large, low ceiling kitchen. He found himself needing to duck to enter the room.
In the centre of the room, in front of the stone hearth, was a large, wooden table, filled with pots and bowls of ingredients that had been used for the meal that was meant to be served. The aroma still hung in the air, and it certainly smelled better than what he was used to from Cookie. It certainly smelled better than the blood as well.
Eliza was sitting at the bench with her back to him, her father standing beside her. She was so beautiful, so proper, but never without her temper and her conviction.
"May I speak with you, Eliza?" he asked, his voice wavering unwillingly. Tom's nerves bubbled to the surface.
Her father placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Eliza looked up at him and nodded. Taking a deep breath, Mr Banes offered Tom an expression of good luck, before he departed the kitchen alongside Katy.
Tom and Eliza were left alone.
***
Eliza willed herself to be brave. She did not want to cry. Not when she felt so angry, and rightfully so.
She prayed for strength as she stood up from her stool and turned to face him. For a brief moment, Eliza had forgotten that she had punched him, and was shocked when she was greeted with a blood-stained shirt, and a piece of raw meat pressed against the bridge of Tom's nose.
But once she saw past that, she could see him. The intensity of his dark gaze was even more so now, as he willed her to listen to him. Eliza felt every bit as frightened and vulnerable as she did on the day, he had broken her heart. The way that he had just changed, switched off, and abandoned her had almost ruined her.
There was nothing at that present moment to persuade her that he would not do so again.
Tom hissed as he removed the meat from his face, abandoning it on the kitchen bench for their conversation. Eliza gasped as she saw that the bridge of Tom's nose had already swelled to twice its usual size.
"At least I know that I taught you correctly," he murmured.
Eliza didn't laugh.
She watched as he squirmed, the reality of being transparent himself making Tom uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. It irritated her to no end.
But in her heart, the less bitter, broken part, she knew that he would struggle with something like this. She knew that he rarely trusted, rarely divulged his true feelings. He did not put faith in others, and he certainly did not give others power over him.
"Eliza, I had nothing for you," he suddenly said, in a tone suggesting that they were in the middle of a conversation, one that had begun months before. "You can think what you like about money, we clearly have a differing opinion, but I know that it is not morally right for a man to marry a woman without means to support her. That is just how I feel," he stated firmly, before taking a breath. "I also know," he continued, "that it is not morally right to lead a woman into an understanding with no intention of following through. I know I did wrong, very wrong. It was cruel, and you have no idea how sorry I am."
Perhaps she was naïve. Perhaps she was indignant and stubborn. No, she most definitely was. Her temper flared. "I find it infuriating that you would reduce your regard for me, and mine for you, to something as silly as fortune," she snapped icily.
Tom sucked in a breath and rolled his eyes, which only angered Eliza further.
"I did not have money growing up!" she pointed out. "I was perfectly happy!"
"For God's sake, Eliza," cried Tom, all air of apology evaporating. Oddly, it felt as though they were back on the ship arguing, as they had done. "Did you go without food for a week?" he challenged. "Have you ever eaten grass, just to have something in your belly? Did you bloody parents abandon you on the side of the road just to feed themselves?" he shouted.
Eliza flinched, and Tom immediately softened, forcibly calming himself down.
"No," he continued, more quietly, "and I refused to sentence you to that life. But I ask your forgiveness for leading you to believe that I was in a position to marry you when I wasn't. That was my wrong, and I am sorry."
"You cannot choose what about your actions hurts me, Tom," Eliza retorted. "That is not how it works. It hurts me that you would think that I would need this," Eliza gestured to her surroundings, "to be happy." Her voice trembled, and she willed herself not to cry. "I would have sailed with you," she revealed. "I would have worked alongside you. I would have taken ten, twenty pounds a year and we could have been together."
"The selfish part of me understands that," he immediately replied, sadness evident in his tone. "But I wanted more for you, and for me," he insisted. "Something to build, something to leave those who would come after me. I would never want to bring you any harm, or any hurt. And I am truly sorry that I have."
Eliza could feel the sincerity of his apology. She knew that he was sorry, and she knew that he wanted her forgiveness. But the hurt was still there, and so was the fear. The fear that he would do it all again.
"You told me, on the ship all those months ago, that I ought to speak to your father. My pride stopped me. But your parents came to speak with me today," he confessed, "and your father offered to invest in me."
Eliza's eyes widened.
"He has offered to help me start the merchant business that I spoke to you about, and I have accepted it, with a promise to repay him every penny."
The news all but slapped her in the face. Was he joking? After all this time, he had finally gone and accepted her suggestion?
"I really think I might hit you again," she remarked in disbelief.
Tom took a chance and took the few steps to meet her. "And I would deserve it, I know," he assured her. "Eliza, this chance your father is taking is going to give me such freedom, such opportunity to forge my own way in an industry that I know needs such compassionate attention. I have plans, you know I have plans, and I fully intend to be a better, more worthy man because of them."
Eliza frowned, cocking her head up at him. "And are you saying that you are not good enough, not worthy enough, without the money?"
Her question stopped him. "Of this opportunity? Yes," he said confidently, nodding his head. "I know I can do it. I know I can succeed. But of you?" He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't think I deserve you," he said honestly. "But that will not stop me from trying. Everyday."
The last word made her battered and bruised heart swell. But her head was not about to let it run wildly back into Tom's arms. "Well, I am glad for you," she said indifferently. "I am certain you will do well."
Tom's face fell at her reaction. "Have I ruined everything?"
"You know how it feels to be abandoned, Tom. Why don't you tell me?"
Her words hit him just as hard as her fist had. He nodded in agreement at his own hypocrisy.
"You are right," he admitted. "You are right. And all I can do is apologise and claim that I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was best, and I thought I could live without you. But spending every day without you far from my thoughts was sheer torture, and I was certainly the most unpleasant man to be trapped with aboard an inescapable vessel."
"How can I believe that?" Eliza remarked. "You scolded me so seriously for leaving my family, and you did exactly the same to me. And yet I am supposed to believe that you missed me? Would you be here if were not for my father's money?"
Another wound, Tom braced himself for the blow. "You are right, of course. How can you trust me? I couldn't live without you, Eliza. I can't. I will show you, and I will prove it." To her surprise, he brought his hands to the collar of his shirt, and began to untie his makeshift cravat. Once it was out of his way, he began to work on the buttons. "Do you remember our conversation in Jamaica, by the waterfall, about my tattoos, and what they mean?"
Eliza managed to nod.
Tom shrugged out of his shirt, and Eliza immediately blushed, praying that her parents were not eavesdropping, or worse, spying.
She immediately noticed an addition to Tom's chest that had not been there before. On his left chest, over his heart, were two additional swallows. Only they were not like the others, they were outlined, and more delicate.
"The swallows, for every five thousand nautical miles travelled," she recalled.
"These two," Tom said, pointing to each of them, "are yours, right over my heart, and are with me always."
Eliza's jaw dropped as she gasped as she realised just what Tom had done. Her swallows, her time at sea, was now permanently drawn over his heart.
"And the star?" he prompted. "Do you remember the significance of that?"
She could not see his shoulder clearly, but she remembered that his nautical star tattoo had been unfinished. "Is it not meant to guide a sailor?" she remembered.
Tom nodded, holding her gaze so intently that she felt her heart flip. "The nautical star is meant to help show a sailor his way home. Do you remember how mine was unfinished?" he prompted. "It stayed like that for many years, because I really did not have a place for the star to point to." Tom shifted on his feet, angling his shoulder to Eliza.
Eliza could see now that the star was finished, only unlike other compasses, the star was not pointing north, but east. There was an 'E' tattooed above the top point.
"It is now complete."
"But it is pointing east, I do not understand ..." Eliza whispered.
"It is not pointing east, Eliza. It is pointing to you. You are my home, and I have known that for a very long time."
-----
I mean, you're on the right track mate ...
Surprise mid week upload!
Elton John - INCREDIBLE.
Catch his Farewell tour if you can. Omg, best decision I made.
Bed time! Vote and comment!