Dunham

Chapter 29

29

Elliott sat on the edge of the cliff alone, his hair whipping and eyes stinging in the stiff April wind, watching dawn break over the choppy waters of the North Sea. The wind and the spray were freezing, hence the blanket he had wrapped around himself.

He could hear the comforting creak of his cutter moored a half mile out. The pennant snapped. The anchor watch sounded the bell.

Six of the clock.

In a half glass, the wash of purple and red would give way to yellow when the sun fully crested the horizon.

He had greeted every morning this way since he had first returned from Peg's bed three weeks ago.

... how soundly you sleep when in the bed of a pirate you don't know ... 

He refused to sleep with a whore at all, but no matter he was safer in Tavendish Manor than he was anywhere else in the world, he was unable to sleep well in his own bed without Fury next to him.

The Penance's anchor watch changed on schedule and smoke began to waft out of the galley's chimney stack, signaling the beginning of breakfast mess. There were only a handful of officers and crewmen aboard, but they were willing to make it their home once Elliott had proposed a regular wage, provided good food, and invited their women (and children) to abide with them. He had no particular plans for the ship other than passage back and forth to London.

The North Sea wind cut through him, and he shivered. He should return to the manse and prepare for the day, but he could not bear to leave just yet. Here, on the cliff, was the only place he could find any solace from Tavendish Manor, aware that his position here, halfway between his manor house and his ship, was a painful metaphor.

This was his home, the place he had spent the many happy years of his childhood with his happy and loving family. It was also the place to which he had returned after his acquittal, to find peace and succor within, where he could recover his strength and sanity after two long years in Newgate.

But now ... 

The pennant snapped again thrice in rapid succession and sunlight glinted off the watchman's glass, there at the platform of the main mast. He waved when he caught sight of Elliott, and Elliott waved back.

For unto us a child is born. Unto us a son is given. Unto us a son is given ... 

Never again would he meet another dawn without hearing her voice commanding the sun to rise and the wind to obey her will.

He slumped.

And unless he could find her somewhere, never again would he hear her voice in any respect: not soaring majestically over a glass ocean, not barking orders in any one of four languages, not trading bawdy jests, and most definitely not whispering words of desire in the dark of night whilst they loved.

Even if he knew where she was, he would not be free to seek her until he had wed and produced two sons as his station demanded. If she still would not have him, he had no idea what he would do with the years looming before him.

The ship's bell rang again. Half past six and mess would have begun. His own mess would be awaiting him on the sideboard in the breakfast room.

Flip, why do you want to switch places? You're going to be an earl and have the Grange.

That's why I want to switch places, Eli. I want to sail on a ship and kill pirates. You don't want to do that and I don't want to be an earl, so why can't we switch?

I don't want to be an earl, either, but I would do if it meant I could stay here.

How can you not want to go to sea?