23. Goodbye
I woke early with a deep feeling of dread that took me several long moments to place. Ian was at my side, we were at The Phoenix. What could be wrong?
My heart sank when it hit me. Maybe Ian’s estimate was wrong. Maybe we’d get another day, or two.
When I rolled over, Ian was already looking at me. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I grinned at him and scooted closer, and he wrapped an arm around me. “Maybe the ship won’t be here today,” I wished out loud, kissing his chest. “I mean, you could be wrong, right?”
He paused. “Perhaps.”
I chuckled. “You could at least sound like you think it’s possible.”
Ian rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “I heard the arrival of messages in the hall early this morning. I predict that one, if not two, will be summons for my attendance on Victory this very day.”
“Well,” I exhaled, raising myself up on my elbow to look him in the eyes, letting the covers fall free from my bare skin. “There’s only one thing for it, then.”
“Indeed?” Ian grinned at me expectantly, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I said, and climbed on top of him.
Unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander Coventry was correct. There was an official notice from the ship, sent ahead on a smaller vessel, as well as a missive from Thomas Charles with the same information.
I sent down for ingredients - bread, cheese, smoked meat, and a few other odds and ends in addition to our breakfast orders. Mostly, I watched Ian eat, as I had no appetite. We shared some wine and pot - just a bit, we both wanted to keep our heads this morning - and afterwards, I sat him down to watch me.
“The most important thing is that you will need a good, sharp knife for every part of your concoction - and remember what I said about cleaning things.” I demonstrated, beginning with the bread. “Some people like their bread sliced thick, others thin - it’s entirely up to you.” I smiled at his attention to my words and my hands. “Same thing goes for the meat, cheese, and anything else you put on here. I’ve gone with mustard, by the way,” I added, starting the second sandwich. “I know you like mayonnaise better, but it might turn before you get to eat it. And no one wants to start a sea voyage with food poisoning.” I cut them in half, diagonally, then wrapped them in a clean square of linen. “Chicken, and ham. Now you’ll have lunch, and you know how to do it yourself.” I busied myself with cleaning up, tears pricking my eyes.
My husband was unfooled. “Leave that. Come and sit with me,” he said, drawing me to the couch. “I just wish to hold you until it’s time.”
Our time together passed all too quickly.
I felt like I was moving through a fog as we moved through the inn. The first time I had walked down these stairs in this dress, I had been a different person. Lady Isabelle, excitedly heading to meet the handsome lieutenant commander to borrow some reading material.
Now I was Lady Isabelle Coventry, going to see her husband off for war. Ian wasn’t the only one who sometimes felt like he was dreaming. I forced myself to pull it together. This was about Ian. He was the one going off to war, for crying out loud. I would channel my stress into being supportive.
“My lady,” Ian intoned as we walked through the tavern room, “I was remembering when I first saw you in this room, and in this garment.” Today, upon his request, I was wearing the jade brocade.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “I was just thinking about that too. And you asked me out on our first date--”
“--and you informed me what a ‘date’ was,” Ian interjected with a chuckle.
“And then there was that dreadful incident with the exploding wall situation...” He raised an eyebrow, and we both shared a moment of giggles. “We’ve had a lot of adventures together in a short time.”
“We will share many more.” He kissed me on the cheek. Behind the counter, Agnes and Gertrude cooed and giggled at us like the teenagers they were as he swept me out into the sun.
Ian was talking, but for once, I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying; this carriage ride felt almost like I was heading to my execution, and swiftly.
My stomach was in knots, and I couldn’t stop thinking. Particularly, about marriage. My marriage.
Here, no one batted an eye at our whirlwind courtship and nuptials. The locals were of the opinion that we were young and in love, so of course we should marry - and quickly, before anything untoward happened.
Despite how impulsive or ridiculous it might seem from the outside, I was taking that commitment seriously. And now that Ian was leaving, I was fairly overwhelmed by the secrets I was keeping from him.
“Ian, my love.” Reluctantly, I shifted away from him to look up into his eyes. “I am more than is dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“I believe it,” Ian chuckled in response, kissing me.
Once we parted, I tried again. “I am serious, Ian. California would feel like a different planet to you entirely--” I swallowed my words. “We don’t have the time to go into it now, but there are a great deal of things I need to tell you. At some point.”
“Let us plan on taking an extended trip once we are reunited,” Ian suggested. “When you come to England, one year hence, I shall take you on a proper honeymoon. We will spend weeks together, speaking of any and everything you desire. The English countryside, London...” he trailed off. “Have you visited France?”
I shook my head. “That sounds lovely. Provided the war has ended,” I murmured.
“I cannot imagine that it would continue for as long as another year.” He smiled optimistically.
I forced myself to silence, kissing him instead of thinking about things I couldn’t do anything about.
We arrived at the beach all too soon, and I felt a tremble begin in my hands and wrists. No, Izzy, you are not going to have a meltdown here. You are Lady Isabelle, owner of The Phoenix and all of West Beach, and now Lady Isabelle Coventry.
I could not stop the tears from flowing, but I would not humiliate my husband by dissolving into a sobbing, hysterical mess. I had wanted to do this clear headed and sober, but I was regretting not bringing something for after.
Then we were at the shore, and it was time for Ian’s departure. A rowboat was waiting to take him out to Victory.
“I am confident that we will be reunited soon.” He wiped my tears, then took my hands in his. “You have given me the protection of your California medicines, and instructions on how to clean water for drinking. I am as safe as you can make me.”
“Yes.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, again wishing I could send him off with more. Bullet and knife proof clothing, for starters. “I love you. You better be in one piece and unscarred the next time I see you.”
“I shall do my utmost. Au revoir, mon coeur.” With one final kiss, he turned to the shore, letting my hands go.
“One more.” I stepped up to the boat, and he held my face in his hands, kissing me again and again until he finally dragged himself away.
I am Lady Isabelle. I will not collapse onto the sand sobbing. Wave good-bye, Lady Isabelle, and take deep breaths. Out of nowhere, Anne was beside me, handing me a much needed flask, like some sort of Alcohol Angel. I took it with a nod of thanks, never breaking eye contact with Ian. Wave good-bye, Lady Isabelle, and take deep sips. I watched as his boat rowed out to the ocean, our eyes locked on each other for as long as possible.
Then Anne was talking to me.
“It’s time, Izzy. It’s time to go,” she said, and then she took away my flask. I whined. I was trying to move, but my feet felt rooted to the spot. I hadn’t even realized how many of the other people on the beach had drifted away already; Anne and I were the only ones around for yards.
I could just make out his boat, making its way towards the huge warship. I had just gotten him, and everything had been downright magical, and now he was already being taken away from me.
“He’s gone, Anne.” I started to cry. I didn’t feel like Lady Isabelle around Anne. I was just Izzy, and Anne had seen Izzy cry plenty over the years. “He’s gone.” I sobbed into her shoulder, until Anne spoke again to remind me that we had things to do.
Right. Lady Catherine, Bessie, and John Henry were depending on us, and it was literally a matter of life and death. Right. Today was the day that we picked them up to spirit them off to safety.
I steeled myself. I was really good at burying things under keeping busy, and this was certainly an important thing to focus on. I turned to say as much to Anne - and got my first look at her since Ian and I had left the docks at her boyfriend’s place.
I gasped in shock, grabbing her chin to get a close look before she could shrink away from me. In addition to a black eye, she also had a number of sizable cuts and colorful bruises. She looked like she had fallen out of a redwood and landed squarely on her face.
“Anne! What happened to your face‽”
My sister said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the side, and I suddenly noticed Graham Fucking Andrews. A fresh new fury roared in my centeras I turned on him, and suddenly I knew exactly was it was like to be an angry bull with some puny fucker waving a red cape in front of you.
“Did you do this to her, motherfucker?” Of course he had, because he was a loathsome piece of shit. “I should have known.” He was backing away from me, but had yet to open his mouth, which was Positively Unacceptable. “Graham Andrews! Did you do this to her?” He had the nerve to look like he was thinking about bucking bad at me, so I gave him a hard, one handed shove to the chest. “Answer me!” I demanded. It was all I could do not punch him in his stupid throat.
“Ow. Nanette, care to step in here?” He asked, flaunting his shiny, glitter laden cape in my face.
“No,” I snarled at him, “you don’t talk to her.” My hands were clenched fists, my nails digging into my palms. I was wholly unimpressed by how much larger and stronger he was; we both knew that I outranked him in everything that mattered. As far I was concerned, he was lucky I hadn’t clawed off his face yet. “I asked you a question. What happened to my sister’s fucking face?”
“Your captain made a choice. And so did I.”
There wasn’t an ounce of contrition in his words or manner. In that moment, the world narrowed down to Graham Fucking Andrews and his stupid, smug, testosterone-entitled face, and I saw red.
I couldn’t do anything about my husband going off to war. I couldn’t help all of the orphans and waifs. I couldn’t get the refugees back to their homes, or free the enslaved people on this island. But this? Getting some sort of vengeance for my sister was something that was wholly within my power.
“You fucking bastard,” I snarled, then let the combo I’d practiced so many times fly. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. With a wheeze he doubled over, on the verge of collapsing. “You stay the hell away from my fucking sister. You will answer to me if you hurt her again,” I murmured for his ears only.
He coughed in response, which I decided to graciously accept, as it wasn’t like he was really capable of speech right now anyway. Then I noticed that he had the flask Anne had given me earlier, which made me irrationally angry. I snatched it from his pocket and took a victory sip, haughtily ignoring the gasps and gazes of the others in the area. “Anne? Would you go find the driver, please?”
“He’ll be up in a sec.” She kissed me on the cheek - welcomed, but odd for her - then helped me up in the back of a wagon, and got me settled before exiting to speak to someone outside. Why a wagon, I had no idea, but I had alcohol...so fuck it, I decided, tipping back the flask.
I wondered what Ian was doing. I missed cell phones.
To my surprise, Graham Fucking Andrews was the driver.
Isn’t this just fucking fantastic? Anne climbed in beside him up front, turning to check on me as she did so. I took a long pull from the flask as I studied her face. I really hadn’t done enough damage to him. Obviously, since he was capable of driving the horses. I should have ground my heel into his testes while he was doubled over.
“Anne, do you remember that short story I wrote during Domestic Violence Awareness Month? The one where the aunt disappears the womanizing, abusive husband to save her niece and the children?” Sister Mary Margret had not approved. I took another sip, remembering how close I had come to getting detention. “My point is - we can take care of him right now, and bonus - make it look like an accident! It’s not as if they perform detailed autopsies here.” Was I drunk?
That asshole actually had the nerve to grin and speak to me. “If your sister wanted me dead she wouldn’t need your help, Lady Coventry.”
“Do shut up,” I snapped at him. “No one’s talking to you, driver.” I turned back to my sister. “Anne? You know I’m never going to let this go.”
Anne gave me a pointed look. “Lady Isabelle, it will be a great story for when we are sailing.”
“So you don’t want me to run my stiletto through his ear?” I held up one of my new blades. “I have this shiny new one I haven’t tried out yet.” I grinned at her, and she actually paused like she was thinking about it.
Oh, dear. I hadn’t been entirely serious...I mostly wanted to give him a good, solid scare. Okay, yes, I also wanted to give him a good, solid thrashing - perfectly reasonable, considering - but ‘semi cold blooded murder’ wasn’t on today’s bingo card.
...Well, dealer’s choice.
“Nanette?” He asked uncertainly.
“Let’s keep that in our back pocket for now,” Anne replied eventually.
I grumbled to myself. Though, it would be irresponsible to fuck him up while he was driving. I could be patient. We could fuck him up later. I moved over and snuggled up to my sister as best I could, putting my head on her shoulder over the seat. I wished I could do more.
Fucking men.
“I’m alright, Izzy. Let’s just focus on you tonight. Okay?”
I gritted my teeth. That was what Anne always did - focus on me. But fine; I could respect that she didn’t want to have a Whole Thing right in front of him. I could be mad enough for both of us.
I had always wanted superpowers. Maybe I would be able to activate Laser Eyes of Anger and burn a hole through his shoulder.
By the time we pulled up to the stable, I still hadn’t been entirely successful, but he was definitely very uncomfortable with my positioning behind him, which made me feel like it hadn’t been a total loss. Maybe Laser Eyes were a power you had to build up.
A stablehand appeared to help me down. Drawn by the sound of rustling silks, perhaps? It was amazing how such things worked here.
Then I discovered that Anne was planning to drive the wagon.
“You’re shitting me, right?” She had probably assumed I would be too distraught to be useful. But horses and wagons couldn’t be that different here, right? “Move,” I ordered her.
“Thank god.” Anne tossed the reins to me like a hot potato.
Anne promptly covered her face, whining through her hands about how fast we were going, how I needed to keep my eyes on the road, and other nonsense.
We pulled up to Lady Catherine’s shortly thereafter. “What’s the plan, here? Do I need to do anything?” I paused. “Actually, I should probably not be seen here, right now. I shouldn’t be connected with this.” If I was seen Ian would be considered to be responsible, and I didn’t know if ‘plausible deniability’ was a thing.
“It’s all arranged. Pull into the neighboring alley. They will be waiting unless they’ve changed their minds.”
I did as directed. When I saw Lady Catherine and Bessie standing there with John Henry, I let out a breath of relief I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Anne jumped out and started lecturing them about trunk allowances. Anne threw up her hands in frustration, and then went to her whatever-the-hell and they began swiftly loading up the trunks. Once that was done, they sorted out our new riding arrangements.
“I’m going to ride with the women and the baby,” Anne told him. “I can’t have you caught with them.” He clearly had objections to riding with me, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I scowled, noticing that no one was asking my opinion, then watched as they played rock paper scissors to settle it. Best two out of three, and he lost. Ha!
...Shit. That meant that I was going to be stuck riding with him.
He handed me a recently refilled flask before climbing up in the seat beside me, droplets still on the exterior. “Drink up my dear lady. We are riding together. Probably better than letting Nanette drive, though.” He shot her a grin and Anne flipped him off.
I paused to stare at the container, suspicious that he was handing me a refreshment. I had just hit him in public, after all.
“Did you poison it?” I asked him, taking a sniff. “You take a sip first.” Just in case, I kept my sharp blade in an easy access position.
He took a sip without hesitating, then went through a pretense of gasping and choking before laughing and handing it back over. I rolled my eyes, wholly unamused, but took the flask back anyway. That ass continued laughing at his own lame joke for some time as he took the reins.
As good a time as any. “By the way, I’ve decided not to do business with you. I won’t be doing business with anyone who engages in human subjugation,” and flask. This flask was my new best friend. It wasn’t nearly as snuggly and appealing as Ian, though. I grumbled to myself. “Also, you’re a casual abuser of human rights. Which I suppose shouldn’t be a surprise.” God, I really should have stabbed him earlier. If I had known that I’d have to ride with him I would have. “Also, there’s a strong chance that you may just be the worst human I have ever met in real life.” I was definitely drunk.
“Yes, my lady.” He fell into silence, then turned to look behind us. “Dammit, Nan. Learn to drive a team already. They are just horses. I’ll likely spend half the night going back for her.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “Oh, no,” I mumbled, turning to watch the other wagon.
Anne was driving the team. But ‘driving’ was such a strong word; even little John Henry probably could have done a better job with the horses than she was doing. He could hardly do worse; the team was already wandering into a ditch. Luckily, Bessie appeared, quickly taking over the reins, and she knew what she was doing. Before long, they were traveling steadily along the way.
Leaving me to focus. “What’s a Nanette? It sounds like someone’s grandmother.”
“It’s an endearment. As I cannot call her what I would truly like to call her, it serves for now. Mine Anne. Nan. Nanette.”
I scoffed. “Anne isn’t yours.”
“As she has repeatedly told me.”
“So is that how it is where you’re from? Give a woman a pet name, bruise up her face, and then remark upon how dear she is to you?”
“You are young. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“That’s exactly the sort of condescending remark I’d expect from someone of your ilk.” My kingdom for even a squirt of pepper spray. I had peppers on the ship. I wondered if I could make a version I could use around the locals. “We’re twenty-five. Anne and I are twenty-five,” I told him, daring him to argue with me. Any minute now, someone would appear and tell me that the sky was actually pink striped.
“Nanette is not 25. I don’t know how old she is precisely but I do know that.”
“That’s right, she’s 24. Her birthday is August 25th.” He gaped at me. “Pay attention,” I snapped, gesturing at the road.
Fuck, I wanted drugs so badly. Oooh, I’d rather have a modern gun, actually. I could shoot him, kick his corpse out of the wagon and then take up the reins and continue on, claiming that he had...stopped to get some cigarettes, perhaps.
“So soon?”
“What?” Now it was my turn to stare at him. “You’ve been trying to get her to marry you for years and she’s never even told you her birthday?” My god...my sister must be absolutely phenomenal in bed.
Andrews stopped the horses. “Lady Isabelle, hear me out.” I recoiled as he turned to me. “We have an opportunity here. Nanette reveals nothing to me about her past. It appears she has kept you in the dark as well. How about a truce for the remainder of this ride?”
I was loath to truce with him for any length of time; if I had thought it was humiliating asking Ian for information about Anne, this was about a million times worse. And yet, all signs pointed to him being my best option to learn about my sister.
“Fine.” I steeled myself. The levels of debasement I was being forced to put myself through here. “I doubt you have anything of value. Do you know why she hates horses?”
“Yes. She was dragged behind one in a rather violent affair and was nearly killed. When did she become scarred? How did it happen?”
Dragged‽ “What scars? Do you mean the brand? The tattoo?”
“No.” He threw me a disparaging look.. “...her legs.”
“Her legs?” Anne hadn’t worn shorts or anything in years. Mom had been convinced that Anne had taken to being the non-shaving variety of feminist, but wasn’t the whole point to wear whatever you wanted? She hadn’t even worn Bermuda shorts in Bermuda for fucks sake. And of course she wouldn’t talk about her abrupt change in fashion. “She’s kept them covered for years. I don’t know anything about any scars, though.”
“Does–”
“It’s my turn, yes?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been involved with my sister?”
“Twenty years. Does–”
“What‽” I nearly fell from my seat. “Twenty years? Twenty? Two zero, years? That’s--” I was about to say ‘impossible’, when the sheer stupidity and arrogance of that statement slapped me in the face.
Me, Izzy, locally known as Lady Isabelle, who was dressed in 17th century clothing and riding in a 17th century wagon because I was in 1649. Which up until about a few months ago I would have said was impossible also.
I loved him first, Anne had insisted. It was just him and me. Young, stupid, gorgeous him. And me.
More to heaven and earth indeed. Her secrets had secrets. I laughed to myself. Everything I learned only showed me how much more of an iceberg there was under the surface.
“Fuck,” I mumbled to myself, taking a long pull from my flask.
There was nothing like the feel of being in bed with Ian. Or on a blanket on the beach. Or a rug in front of the fireplace. He really did have the most marvelous hands. And tongue. And--
I sat up abruptly, then groaned, shifting as I tried to get my bearings.
I had been dreaming of my husband, but I was in bed in my cabin on the Try Your Luck. Alone. Hungover. Sore. Everything sucked. And apparently I had passed out in my clothes, corset and everything. It was a wonder I hadn’t suffocated in my sleep.
I stripped out of my outer layers, acutely aware of being hungover. And then the boat lurched. Were we launching? Something didn’t feel right. I gulped down some pills and water and staggered my way out.
Lady Catherine and little John Henry met me in the hallway headed up top.
She was a fluttery, dainty pile of breathlessness, terror, and relief. “Should we be moving this way?”
“Definitely not,” I told her, remembering myself when her eyes widened. “But I’m sure everything will be fine.” I patted her shoulder and clung to the rail as I fairly crawled up the stairs, calling back for her to get back into the room with the baby.
We were well underway. The wind was strong in the sails and it was not Anne sailing at the helm.
Oh my god, the sun. There was way too much sun, and even worse, Bessie had a hold of the wheel. She did not have the same experience with boats she did with horses. At least now I understood the lurching. “Where is she? Where the hell is Anne?”
Bessie clutched the wheel, white knuckled. “She told me north. I am going north. She went below.”
What the ever living fuck. “Go get her,” I ordered, and pried Bessie’s hands off the wheel. “I can handle this, Bessie, just go get Anne!”
My head was splitting. Anne arrived on deck and began lowering the sails. Before I could ask her what the hell was going on, she dropped the small rowboat in the water.
So. Loud. She went out to do some crap with a pen and paper and splashing and then came back with all her noise and put the boat back.
“What did you write?” I needed pot. Probably something stronger at this point.
“A warning.” Informative, as always, but I didn’t have the energy to push. Yet. She raised the sails again and took over the rudder. “Hey,” Anne smiled, “ you want to see something cool?” I didn’t really. I just wanted to see the inside of my eyelids and go back to the lovely dream I had been having with Ian between my legs. “See that land?” Anne pointed. “That stretch from that hill there all around the corner to the tip of the island?”
“Yeah?” It was part of the far too bright world.
“That’s yours. That’s all yours.”
I shaded my eyes, making an effort to take it in. It was an entirely different perspective from this distance.
It was incredible.
“Someday you’ll have to tell me how you did it.” Anne grimaced.
“Did what?”
“How you sold the British back their own guns and used the money to buy land they already owned.” She laughed, somewhat too darkly for real humor. And now I had something new to ponder.
I looked out over the ocean. Somewhere, in this very same expanse was my husband.
I took one last look back at the island, marveling over all that had passed during our weeks there. Everything had changed - the summer wasn’t over yet - and now, we were back on the Try Your Luck. Anne was in her element, on her ship, at the helm.
We were sailing once again, and who knew what would come next.
