Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (28 page)

“Might I have more laudanum?” I asked when he set the bottle down.

He prepared a dose in a vial.

“How does your head feel?” I asked.

He smiled weakly. “As if I was struck.”

I smiled as well. “That is probably good.”

“Sleep now,” he whispered, as I drank.

“Do not leave me.”

“I cannot.”

“Because we are chained together?” I asked sadly.

He frowned in thought. “Non, I feel it is because we are chained to something else?”

“What, a rock?” I asked with amusement.

“Non, a cart.”

“So we are two centaurs chained to a cart? What is in the cart?”

“Love,” he said soberly. “I think the cart is our partnership.”

I tried to envision it as the laudanum took hold: two centaurs, one white, the other black, hauling an ancient two-wheeled cart down a forest path. Our cart was very full. I wondered if that made it heavier.

I woke to him gently shaking my head and softly calling my name.

Despite his gentleness, my head throbbed, and I moaned in protest.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “You must wake.”

“Why?” I moaned.

Bright light stabbed through my good eye and deep into my skull. I cursed and covered my face with my hands. That only served to make me acutely aware of my other bruises.

“Sir Christopher is here,” he whispered.

“Oh no…”

“I know, Will, I would shoot him to spare you this if it would not cause more trouble. Perhaps I should speak to him. Theodore says he is quite agitated.”

I sighed. “Damn it all, you shall come with me then.”

Gaston helped me rise and don a clean tunic. Then we made our slow way downstairs with my arm about his shoulder.

Sir Christopher Vines was quite perplexed at my appearance. “Good Lord, my Lord, you have been in a bit of a brawl, I daresay. And here I bring bitter news to add to your troubles.”

I blinked at him in surprise as Gaston helped me into the chair Theodore was proffering. I glanced at Theodore, and received a small shake of his head to indicate he did not know what the man spoke of, either.

“He is distraught,” Theodore mouthed.

I could see that. Sir Christopher was a large and heavy man, and dressed as a good English gentleman should, which is to say he would have been warm on an October day in London. Yet a case of high humor and not the heat surely accounted for the copious perspiring he was doing, such that he was constantly mopping his brow with an already-damp kerchief while pacing about.

“Please, my good man, what is troubling you?” I asked. “I planned to meet with you this day…”

“I know, I know,” he wailed. “It is all my fault. I had no son. And I loved her mother beyond all good sense. I fear I have spoiled the girl. I have nurtured her headstrong ways.”

“Sir Christopher, I… find her spirited nature quite endearing,” I said carefully.

“Truly? Well, you might not now,” he said bitterly.

“Why?” I asked.

“She has fled!”

I was alarmed. “Truly? Where?”

“I know not. She left me a letter. A letter! Her own father. She says she does not wish to marry, and she is sorry for the trouble she knows this will cause, but she has decided to return to her Aunt’s in Vienna. I am damned, my Lord, if I know how. I inquired about, and no young lady has booked passage. A ship did sail on the evening winds yesterday, but their agent did not book a young lady passage and vowed they never would without her father’s consent. I have men scouring the town for her. And I have sent to all the plantations with which we have acquaintance.”

I wondered if I should tell him he should be inquiring about a boy with very red legs. I was torn between my concern over the danger she had undertaken, and allowing her to escape, both for my ends and her own. I saw my thoughts mirrored on Gaston’s face.

“I am quite surprised,” I managed to say.

Sir Christopher handed me a sealed letter. It was addressed to me.

“I hope that will shed light on the matter, my Lord,” he said.

I read her tight script as fast as my aching head would allow. It was as I might have expected. After giving it great and serious thought, she knew she did not wish to marry, even me, even with the offer we presented her. She apologized and wished us well.

I handed the letter to Gaston.

Her father was watching me with pleading eyes.

“I feel I am to blame, Sir Christopher,” I said carefully.

I could see the threads of the fabric I must weave, but I feared I would be thick-fingered in the execution of the design. I forged ahead anyway.

“My courtship of your lovely daughter was quite hurried. This is due to my father’s wishing that I marry as soon as possible. To which end, he is sending a bride for me. I am somewhat strong-willed and headstrong too, thus my admiration of those qualities in your daughter.

And… I wished to choose my own bride. And I was quite taken with Miss Vines when we met last year. I decided to woo her, such that I could be married to a young lady of my own choosing prior to the arrival of the other. And… well, apparently, she is not ready to wed. And… she wishes to marry for love, as you did, good sir. My hasty courtship did not give time for that to develop before a decision had to be made. And so she has bolted like a skittish filly.”

I looked back on my handiwork, and thought it a pretty thing: there was surely enough truth woven in to it for it to stand the test of time.

Thankfully, it seemed to calm him somewhat, and he sat heavily in a chair. He contemplated the floor with a thoughtful expression for a time.

“I am sorry, sir,” I added. “That… this has led to her leaving you as well. And I pray to God it has not caused her to do anything so rash as to put herself in harm’s way.”

He dabbed at his eyes with the kerchief. “That is my concern as well.”

“Well,” I said carefully, “we may take some small comfort in that she is an intelligent and resourceful young lady, and accustomed to travel.”

He shook his head. “Aye, my Lord, but I almost wish she has taken up with some rake and brought herself to ruin. At least then someone would be there to keep her from harm.”

“Truly, good sir, I would wish that as well,” I sighed. “And that may well be the case, and the good words she left with us, merely platitudes to assuage us.”

He studied me. “When I first heard of all of this, and Mister Theodore said you had been in an altercation, I wondered if perhaps you had fought someone over her.”

I shook my head quickly and regretted it. “Nay, sir, I know no more than I have told you.”

He nodded. “I am sorry for thinking such a thing. I… well, my Lord, thank you for considering her. I would have been honored to call you son, and not merely because of your title, but because you truly seem to be a gentleman who would have... appreciated my daughter.”

His words saddened me greatly and I spoke with sincerity. “Aye, sir.

And thank you. And I would have been pleased and honored to have you as my father-in-law, as you too seem to be a man who cares more for his kin than for wealth or propriety. I think that truly admirable. And I do truly think you have a fine daughter.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said with a grave nod. “I will leave you, then. I must continue to search.”

“We will contact all we know and do likewise,” I assured him.

He stood and bowed, and with Gaston’s help, I did likewise.

I sagged back into the chair as he left. Theodore was studying the corner of the ceiling from behind steepled fingers. I knew he was hiding a smile. Gaston was bemused at my side.

“God loves you,” Theodore said.

“Someone must,” I agreed. “However, we must search for her. She will be dressed as a boy.”

“What?” Theodore asked.

“The lads that came calling the day before last were Miss Vines and Agnes.”

He was appalled. “You jest.”

I grinned. “Nay. We must speak to Agnes and see what she knows.”

“Sir Christopher did,” Theodore sighed. “He said he took her a letter as well, and the girl was quite beside herself.”

“Damn,” I sighed, “I had hoped… well, we must ask about the ship that left last night, if they booked passage for a lad.”

“We must do nothing if it includes you,” Gaston said. “You will return to bed. Theodore and I will see to this.”

I looked to Theodore as Gaston helped me stand again. I found him giving my matelot a troubled look. We did not need any of that.

“He is well,” I said.

Gaston looked at Theodore sharply.

“I am sorry,” Theodore told him. “I am not... familiar with madness. I know not what to expect from you.”

Gaston sighed. “Expect me to care for Will, when I am not deranged such that I cause him harm.”

He got me upstairs again and we discovered the bed linen had been changed. I supposed we owed Mistress Theodore a new set, as we had bled all over the last. The table had also been removed, and fresh water put by the door. We owed Sam a “thank you” and a coin as well.

Mistress Theodore appeared in the doorway. “Will he eat?” she asked Gaston as he maneuvered me onto the bed.

I considered it. I realized I was a bit hungry.

Gaston asked that I be brought broth and a little bread. I protested, as I had not been stabbed in the gut this time. He took up the silver mirror from his medicine chest and raised my tunic to show me the livid bruise the size of my hand on my lower back and side.

“Oh damn,” I sighed.

I wondered what else I could not see, and then decided I felt my wounds well enough that I truly did not wish to know their nature.

“I am worried you have suffered internal damage to your organs,”

Gaston said. “You will lie still. You will have a little broth, and then a little laudanum, and then you will sleep.”

And that is what happened.

It was dusk when I woke again. There was a quiet scratching sound, and a bright lamp on the nightstand, despite the dim golden light from the windows. I looked about curiously and found Agnes sitting beside the bed. She had her feet propped on the side of the mattress, and her sketchbook on her upraised knees. She appeared to be deep at work, sketching me.

She started when she looked up and saw my eye was open. “You moved.”

“I am sorry,” I chuckled. “I did not know I was modeling.”

She smiled. “The bruises and the swelling are… interesting.”

“I would like you to do a portrait of Gaston someday.”

She nodded. “Why?”

“He is scarred. You might find interest in the textures, and I wish to have a lovely portrait of him.”

She seemed truly intrigued “He is scarred? Hmmm… I will do that.”

“Where is Gaston?” I asked.

“I believe he said he was going to go run along the beach,” she said distractedly, her eyes once more upon her paper. “He left me here to watch you and tend to you if you should wake before he returned.”

“Good,” I sighed. I was damn glad he was tiring his Horse.

“Has there been any word of Christine?” I asked.

“Nay,” she said sadly.

“Did you know she would leave?”

“Nay, truly,” she sniffled. “I… it is my fault.”

“Truly? And how is that?”

She fidgeted with the binding of her book and chewed her lip.

“You can tell me, Agnes. I will not judge you harshly. You see, I feel it is my fault she left. I feel she felt trapped by my need to marry so quickly. And she did not want to bear children right away.”

“I suppose there was that, too,” she sighed. “But still, I should have kept my mouth shut. I should not have told her. It made her so angry.

She said she felt betrayed. But I could not have her marry you without telling her.”

I guessed. “That you loved her?”

She nodded with a ragged sob.

“She is a fine woman and very deserving of love and admiration,” I said softly.

“I did not love her in a Godly way,” she whispered.

I nodded sagely. Agnes’ drawings of her friend had indeed spoken volumes.

“Did you wish to touch her?” I asked.

Agnes nodded and the tears flowed down her bony cheeks.

I regarded her with sympathy. “There is nothing wrong with that.

I will not say there is another like her, but perhaps you will meet someone someday who will accept your love.”

“I do not think so,” she said quickly. “I do not want anyone else.

There is only Christine.”

I could not gainsay her. I know damn well that at fourteen, once the heart becomes fixated, there is no other. Only time would ease her wound.

“I am sorry,” I said softly. “When I was your age, I loved another as you do, a young boy.”

This brought her eyes to mine.

I smiled. “He did not return my affection, either. And it all went very poorly as a result. My heart was broken for a very long time, until I met Gaston.”

She nodded and wiped at her tears with her long charcoal smudged fingers. It left black streaks about her eyes, much like Gaston’s mask. It was actually quite fetching.

“She said…” She glanced at me guiltily and then frowned at her book again. “She said that she could love you, but she could never have you, and that made her angry.”

“Oh, damn,” I sighed.

Gaston had been right. I should not have kissed her; of course, if I had not, then we might have married and everything would be a million times more complicated.

“When did you know you liked boys and not girls?” she asked. Her teeth were worrying her lip again.

I smiled. “When I was twelve or so, and all the other boys began to talk about girls and I realized I wanted to talk about them. Do you favor girls, or just Christine?”

“Girls. They are beautiful. Well, all things can be beautiful, but… I want to touch girls,” she finished with a whisper. “And hold them.” She looked up at me with earnest curiosity again. “I do not know what girls can do with one another, though, since neither has a cock.”

I remembered it would hurt to even chuckle. “Well… women can experience a great deal of pleasure. Do you touch yourself?”

She shook her head in a little emphatic spasm.

I suppressed both a sigh and a grin. “There is nothing wrong with it; unless you truly believe the Church on the matter, and if you do, you will most likely never be happy… Touch yourself, find what brings you pleasure, and then someday, when you meet a girl who wishes to be touched, you will know what to do.”