Upon Your Return - Chapter 3, Part 1 by Marie Lavender
posted February 9, 2013
by Adam Scull, owner of ESW
She woke
slowly, the light teasing her eyes open. She snuggled against a hard, warm body
and though her eyelids were heavy with sleep, she looked up into the face of La
Capitaine Hill. It took a moment for her to realize his eyes, which were
unreadable before, laughed at her and were creased at the corners.
She glanced
around and knew instantly the reason for his ill-displayed humor. She was
holding him down. Her arms encircled his neck and one exposed white thigh was
thrown across his belly, which was thankfully hidden by his breeches. She felt
like an imbecile, all safe and warm and curled against a complete stranger.
Her cheeks
flushed and she stammered, “I-I'm sorry...” She tried to pull away, but he
grasped her waist. “Grant,” she pleaded.
“I don't mind
at all, Fara.”
“Oui,
but I do!”
“I see...but,
you forget who started it.”
Her face might
as well have been stained red for his teasing remarks were not helping the
situation. “I know. I said I was sorry.”
“Now, there's
no need for apologies, love. I am at your mercy, if you please. Please?”
For a moment,
she almost took him to task for presuming she was that kind of woman. But, his
eyes still laughed at her. Faltering, she slugged him on the arm. “You beast!
Now let me go, I demand it!”
Seeming
reluctant, he released his hold on her and watched as she gradually slid from
the bed to gather her clothes to her bosom.
She was
careful not to make any jarring movements as her head still ached a little. “Is
there not some other place I may change my clothing?”
He laughed, a
deep rumbling sound. “No, unless you want to stun my crew into submission...”
Her jaw
tightened in response and she chose to ignore him. “Then you will look away
like a gentleman whilst I change.”
He sighed and
closed his eyes. “There's nothing like having a young woman around to revive
oneself fully,” he said softly.
“I would be eternally
grateful if you'd cease teasing me.”
“Eternally?”
“Oui!”
She checked to make sure he wasn't spying and then hastily changed. Considering
she had no nursemaid to aid her, she surprised herself with her speed.
Fara slipped
her feet into her slippers. She finger-combed the tangles from her hair as best
as she could. “Now, I would like to get off of this...your ship, your Voyageur,”
she gestured with a flick of her wrist.
He stood up
and grasped his own clothing, and then quickly buttoned his white shirt, the
shirttails trailing over his black breeches. He approached her, smiling when
she backed away. Suddenly, he grasped her waist, pulling her toward him and
seemed to ignore her squeal. He did up the buttons of her dress carefully.
She swallowed,
aware that the forced intimacy between them was affecting her too much.
After he was
done with her buttons, he turned her to face him again. “Your uncle, Monsieur
de Bellamont, might literally kill me if I did not feed you. Come, you
must be starving.”
As a matter of
fact, her stomach was growling, but she didn't give him the satisfaction
of having that knowledge as she followed him.
* * * *
They were each
seated with a steaming platter of eggs and morning croissants and café au lait
set before them, and they ate in silence for a while. After he finished, Grant
excused himself to speak with his manservant standing near the door. “What do
you think, Eric?”
“’Twas quite
heroic what you did for her, Capitaine.”
He was not the
kind to be proud of his actions, especially when they were necessitated by the
misdeeds of others, in this case by a certain man who intentionally put Fara in
a perilous position. “Oui...but, what do you think of her?” he repeated
the question.
Eric
considered while he studied her carefully. “She's young, a wee girl.”
“Not a girl,
Eric, but a lady.”
“She is of
marrying age?”
“Oui.
She is eighteen, I believe.”
“She is small
for a lady of society, Monsieur. But, the picture of youth and
sophistication.”
“Oui,”
the captain breathed, remembering the silken feel of her in his arms when he'd
carried her onto La Voyageur. Or this morning, when he'd awakened to
that pretty face…she'd felt so petite against him, so innocent. He was sure she
was not only soft physically but emotionally. A self-willed lady used to the
ways of society, but not necessarily swayed by them.
“You fancy
her, sir?” his manservant asked quietly.
“Perhaps.” He
studied her profile, suddenly captivated by her female aura...her mane of
tresses like burnished fire and her eyes a hint of violet. Hair of
fire...perhaps even a woman born of fire, a passionate woman.
His loins
tightened with desire. Might he ever witness that hidden passion? Would she be
as captivating a lover as a companion?
“If you two
are quite finished gawking at me, I'd like to go above.” She shot them both
looks of disgust.
Grant smiled.
“Of course. I am sure the crew would love to see the lady I hauled onto my ship
and straight to my own cabin last night. Beware of their curiosity, however.
They are men who have been at sea far too long, without a woman's comfort. It
would only be natural for them to wonder how their captain might have dealt
with a woman such as yourself.”
“Well then, I
shall remember to overlook their curiosity,” she spat back at him.
He turned to
his manservant. “Eric, might you escort Mademoiselle Bellamont to the
deck?”
The man nodded
and murmured, “She is an outspoken lady, Maitre...”
“Oui,”
he agreed, and he loved it.
“Come, petite.
I will show you about the ship. Perhaps you would like to meet the cook who
prepared your breakfast?”
“Perhaps,” she
replied and followed Eric out of the cabin.
The captain
sighed. Yes, she was definitely outspoken. How had she contrived to be so when
her uncle was no doubt a man who believed women were mere possessions? Indeed,
he had heard rumors about Michel de Bellamont. He was a known
businessman in town, and a shrewd one at that. The gentlemen who spoke of him
shuddered often. One only wanted to be in good standing with the man. How had
she survived, her beliefs clashing undoubtedly with her uncle's?
Fara would
take him to task if she heard him say that. However, he didn't plan to hinder
the person she was. He desired her and was quite amused with her strength of
character as well.
* * * *
Fara was shown
about the ship and gritted her teeth as Eric called her petite for the
fourth time, no doubt referring to her size. “Why do you keep calling me that,
Eric?”
He grinned.
“It is not derogatory in any way, Mademoiselle. You are intriguing. I'm
sure many men do not see you as you are. You are strong and self-willed, yet
still small. Tis' a contradiction I see within you, petite.”
She nodded and
decided he hadn't meant to insult her. “I would like to meet this cook of
yours. He pleased my palette.”
Eric beamed.
“I am glad. Come, petite. The galley is this way.”
After he had
introduced her to the cook as well as many of the sailors on board, they paused
by the railing on deck, overlooking the waters.
Eric passed
her a look of uncertainty. “It surprises me you have not asked to leave or that
your uncle did not demand your return last night.”
Confused that
a man of his stature would converse with her in such a way, she stammered, “I-I
as well. He is not usually that way. He is normally so protective of me. He is
rather conservative.”
“I assumed he
was, which is why I'm amazed you have not asked the captain to take you home.”
He was awfully
forward for a valet. “I appreciate your concern. But, I do not see how it is
your business.”
“Pardon me, Mademoiselle.
I merely wondered.”
From his
unwavering position, she could tell he and his master had a unique
relationship, perhaps one of friendship more than servitude. Though Rosalie's
actions toward her had always seemed maternal, deep down she'd always known it
would not be proper to call her a friend. She envied that Grant Hill could be
so open about the way he behaved with his manservant.
“I have never
been very far from home or from town for that matter. When I was a child, I
went to live with my uncle. My parents died at sea and since then, every moment
of my life has been planned.” She sighed. “It is silly to say, but sometimes it
is nice to do something out of the ordinary. I suppose mostly that is why I
consented to your captain's actions.”
“I do hope he
has treated you with kindness in my absence.”
“Do you doubt
your master, Eric?”
“No, do not
misunderstand me, Mademoiselle. It is simply that he has not been in the
presence of a woman of your position and innocence for a very long time. Not to
mention one of your beauty.”
Her cheeks
warmed with embarrassment. For a servant, especially a man, to pay her such
compliments was preposterous. She turned away.
“Well, he did
what he had to in order to rescue me from those horrid men. I'm sure he told
you of it. All in all, yes, he has been very respectful in my presence.” Very
much like a gentleman, she added to herself. Or at least the way she wished she
could be treated more often.
From what she
knew of the man thus far, Grant Hill had protected her because he felt it was
right. His actions weren't out of some social construction that demanded he
behave a certain way. It wasn't as if he believed her somehow incapable.
In a way, and
she didn't know how, she sensed it was otherwise.
She had never
met anyone like that, willing to act on his own convictions even if he didn't
happen to agree with society on the matter.
Her uncle was
just the opposite. Appearance and self-preservation guided his every action. If
he believed a certain decision would be viewed in a negative way, he would choose
a different path. Everything he did, whether it was from a business agreement
to what he would wear to dinner, was solely dependent on how other people would
interpret it. It was a predictable lifestyle.
From the
viewpoint of a captain or a sailor, it probably seemed very dull. While in the
convent, she had often wondered if there was more to life than everyday
devotions and attention to propriety. Now she could see an advantage to the
spontaneity she often witnessed from children in rags playing out on the
street, liberated by the lack of social constraints. Perhaps their lives
weren't privileged, but they found contentment in other ways.
Though she'd
always held tight to some beliefs despite social norms, she still felt she had
been seeing the world through a glass bottle, somewhat distorted and hard to
determine what realities were truths. Although she'd believed her reality was
harsh, at least in the sense of marrying a complete stranger, there were much
harsher realities for others.
Deep down, she'd
always known her circumstances and fate were different from the servants in the
house, but she'd always attributed it to her station.
After having
known Grant Hill for more than twelve hours, she wondered if she'd been wrong
to believe such. She had never considered any servant to be her equal though
she treated every one with kindness. Now, as she examined the obvious respect Capitaine
Hill held for Eric, and vice versa, which had surely been earned at some point,
she acknowledged that her life had certainly taken a strange and sudden turn.
How long had
she been so blind? Who had thought up the class divisions? Why did people
accept them? What made one person so different from the next? Were they not all
human?
She had never
wanted to be some random man's wife; there had to be other options. Wasn't
there something to look forward to besides marriage to a person of her own
status? Looking across the deck at the crew, she felt compassion for them.
Though each had adequate clothing, one could count a tattered appearance on
every man. A pair of pants might be threadbare in places or most had patches
sewn into the fabric for reinforcement. And every sailor was scruffy and dirty.
She knew this was not uncommon on board a ship.
Even though
they were all clothed, it was obvious they were used to living with less.
Suddenly, she wanted to help somehow, if at least to improve their current
condition. There was no doubt they were all used to working hard to get what
they had. But, what if they were given access to a better education? Would
their status still be the same or could they acquire a position like Capitaine
Hill had earned?
It was a hard
question. She was not used to thinking of others; it seemed there was such a
thing as being too privileged. She knew what she had been pondering would not
be proper to entertain openly. Her uncle wouldn't hear of it.
However, there
was no harm in thinking.
“There are
advantages and disadvantages to this kind of reflection,” she heard Eric
observe.
She laughed,
appalled that she had been silent that long. It wasn't often she had the time
to reflect on anything. It was odd that she had felt free to do so aboard
Grant's ship. “I'm sorry. I did not miss anything, did I?”
“Nothing
important, Mademoiselle.”
“I am relieved
to hear it. I do hope you are not disappointed.”
“Not at all.”
So it seemed
he knew his place in several ways, yet still acted as more of a confidante to
Grant Hill. It was a strange relationship. “How long have you been under the
employ of your captain?”
He looked over
at her, a wide-eyed look on his face. Then suddenly his lashes swept down,
hiding whatever it was he wished her not to see. “It is a story that would most
likely bore you, Mademoiselle.”
“I do not
mind. I would like to know.” She knew little about Grant and clamored for more.
It was also a widely known fact that most servants had a knack for tattling
about their employers.
“I have worked
for Capitaine Hill for many years, but I have been his friend for much
longer.”
“Oh?” It
wasn't often that a man chose a companion as his valet. “How did you meet
then?”
“My master, at
the time, was not the most honorable of men. He was a scoundrel to say the
least. It is not as if I needed saving. I knew my way around the elements, but
I served the man nonetheless. I knew my place. I was not supposed to question
my master. The captain was in town often to trade and upon many occasions had
called the man out about his treatment of us.
“You see, I
wasn't the only one subjected to the man's wrath. There were women and children
working under him as well. As you know, a man cannot be challenged based on his
behavior toward his servants, but my master was not without his other vices.
There was gambling and…” He stopped with a look of wariness as if suddenly
aware of his audience.
“Yes?”
“Debauchery of
the worst kind. Capitaine Hill used every means he could think of to
expose my master's true nature, and before long my master left town, his
reputation effectively destroyed. And of course, a man without money cannot
afford to pay his servants so we were left behind.”
“So you were
indebted to the captain for his interference.”
“Perhaps, but
there was more. He kept coming back around to see if conditions improved. He
kept telling me he would help. He promised he would. And he did.”
“What happened
after your master left?”
“Capitaine
Hill told me I could be a free man if I wished it. He could find a better
position for me if I wanted it. I told him I had nothing to go back to. My
family had all passed on years before and I couldn't see myself as a wealthy
man, or apprenticing for a long period of time, or some such nonsense. I had no
idea what I was suited for either. I had always served under someone. He said
if I wished, I could shadow him for a while to see if anything caught my
interest. There were many positions with the crew, or even in trade there were
possibilities.
“On one
occasion, the merchant we were dealing with tried to cheat us out of our share.
He pulled a gun on Grant and would have killed him had I not intervened. Capitaine
Hill would make me out to be the hero if he told it, but it was simple. He had
become a good friend and I feared for his life. That's all.
“Afterward, he
told me I'd earned all of his trust and respect and that I could leave if I
truly wanted my freedom. For the first time in my life, I was allowed to choose
for myself the kind of life I wished for. It was the hardest thing I'd ever
done. I decided to stay though, and I don't regret it. I made my choice based
on my own desires.
“When the captain
gained greater status in society, he presented me with the option of being his
valet. He said regrettably a gentleman must have an aide to do the things he'd
rather do himself. Of course, a lot of things Capitaine Hill still does
for himself. He defies society to a point always.”
She'd already
noticed that about the man. “It is honorable that he allowed himself to
befriend you as well.”
“There was
more to it than it seems, petite. I like to think that fate had a hand
in it, that destiny brought us to that point in time and forged the bond we now
acknowledge as friendship, not unlike the same power that drew you and the
captain to one another last night.”
“Oh, such
idealism, Eric. Capitaine Hill was simply in the right place at the
right time.”
He smiled, but
it did not reach his eyes. “There are no accidents in life, Mademoiselle.
Only fate.”
She did not
reply, but part of her agreed with him. She had always believed in destiny,
certain a stronger force existed that controlled the universe and its occurrences.
Had something caused her to meet Grant Hill, or was it simply chance? She
didn't know.
As the sun
rose high, blessing her face with its splendor, she thought of the unbreakable
bond of friendship she'd not only witnessed but heard Eric speak of in reference
to his employer. What would it have been like if she had formed a true affinity
with a servant in the same manner as Grant and Eric's?
Her
relationship with Rosalie was the closest she had ever come to such a thing.
Propriety and social awareness had prevented her from showing anything more.
She had felt
more, much more for Rosalie. Indeed, she would describe it as something very
akin to friendship, but she could not express such due to their different
positions. Friends were made within the same social circles. That's how it was.
Deep down she
knew otherwise. True emotions were not bound by social hierarchy but forged
through connections. Eric and Grant had been lucky in forming such a bond.
Custom might dictate that a person's title carry more importance than true and
honest feelings. However, love -- either romantic or platonic -- wasn't subject
to such custom. If love was real, it could not be broken. She'd always held out
this hope for herself that no matter what happened, despite the obstacles, she
would find that affinity with another human being. Love would prevail because
it was beyond status, or pride, or anything people might use to deny it.
However abstract, love was infinite and she would find
it. Of that, she knew.
