Edward Burr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-22 05:17 pm
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-22 05:17 pm
Entry tags:
The Price of Peace - Chapter Fourteen
The Price of Peace
Book Three
Chapter Fourteen
The travel to Dublin and then to the little parish who hours north of it proved blissfully quiet. By the last evening, Abigail was finally speaking again and slept apart from him. Not that David could offer complaint when she appeared, silent and as pale or worse than her shift, in his doorway. The nights passed with her thin body pressed against his, quivering, and he had held her as he would have Faith. David could only consider it a blessing when she showed some sign of recovery. He would not have asked her, in that state, to either bear his absence or endure what small crowd would make up the wedding party.
It was a very small church, and the guests were very easily distinguished, even without their separation. The men in uniform were present for Captain Hawke while Miss Donnelly was the cause of the civilians. Her near-uncle played the role of father, and the oldest of Gregory’s younger brothers— four in total, this one named Daniel— stood by his side with the ring at the ready. Mona looked very pretty, garbed in a pale yellow that set nicely with her tanned skin and copper hair. Gregory, David could not help thinking, had never looked better. He wore a pristine uniform and stood as proud and tall as a mast on a first-rate. From where he sat, David was sure he saw discreet glances from the groom to the bride as the minister led them through their vows before the congregation.
As the final words were uttered and the ring placed on Mona’s finger, transforming her from Miss Donnelly to Missus Hawke, her now-husband turned to her. Before their witnesses and in full sight of God, he kissed her. It was not a kiss of passion, but it lingered. David made himself smile at the look of love he saw pass between them, and he rose from the pew only when Abigail touched his arm.
“We can return to the inn now,” she whispered to him. David forgave the pitying look she fixed upon him, simply because he felt it was at least partially owed to him. He felt particularly vulnerable.
He shook his head before he said, “Not yet, my dear. A brief appearance at the breakfast must be made first. Then we may go.”
The minister’s wife had opened her home to the bride for her reception. The food and spirits were meagre, but those present were determined to make the most of it all, and their gaiety fanned the flames of the couple’s happiness, making the joy almost impossible not to catch. For David, it proved easy enough to pretend to enjoy himself as he made a small round about the party, always deftly avoiding coming into contact with Gregory. The men who had come consisted of many mutual friends, and he spent a great deal of time with them, as he observed Burr doing as well. In a way, it amused him greatly that all of these men still spoke to them.
They knew nothing, of course, of Mister Burr’s attachments now. Many had heard of his engagement and its painful end, and Burr dodged their sympathies without ever hinting at fault with Faith to such an extent that David was obliged to whisper his thanks for his consideration to her and her reputation. Inwardly, he was still sorry she had been hurt so. At least she was willing to write to him once more. She had forgiven him his role, at least, and David had noted a marked softening of his vitriol against Edward. He could not say its cause, but he had encouraged it. He spoke to a fellow lieutenant for several moments, listening to his fretting over his impending proposal and assuring him the dear girl he described would surely accept his offer.
“Mister Long.” The voice behind him made him want to disappear, but he finished his conversation and turned to the speaker.
“Missus Hawke,” he answered as warmly as he could manage, sweeping into a bow to kiss the back of her hand. “May I wish you congratulations on your wedding and every happiness in the years to come?”
She was beautiful when she smiled, especially with the flush of pleasure she tried desperately to hide. He appreciated the effort and found he could, for the most part, forgive her the joy she felt. It was not her fault Gregory loved her so. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “For your warm words now, your kindness to me these last several months, and your presence now. I beg your forgiveness if—”
“There is nothing to forgive.” His voice was too harsh, he knew, his feelings too raw. He dipped his head, unable to offer any proper apology for his tone. To say more would provoke tears, and he would not let anyone present see even a hint of such emotions from him, particularly today. That might give rise to gossip of some kind, and he would not allow for anything of the sort.
“There you are, Missus Hawke,” Gregory’s warm voice broke in. He chuckled, “Married half an hour, and already vanishing. A poor start, I should say.” All his mirth and teasing stopped when his eyes fell on David, and it cut deep that the sight of him affected Gregory so. “Mister Long.” His voice sounded strained, as if he were concealing pain. He could not manage a smile. “Welcome.”
“Captain Hawke,” David said, saluting. He knew now he should have refused the invitation; Gregory had wanted him to refuse. “Congratulations.”
‡ ‡ ‡
It was strange. In a way, it even frightened him, the sight of Mona and David standing together. Mona seemed beside herself with pity, David as though he were wounded to near point of death but trying in vain to conceal it. He feared a scene, even if the possibility seemed remote. Even with David’s letter of acceptance, he was still surprised to see the man here. Worse was how the sight of him still moved him. Gregory wanted to take him aside, whisper to him until he would smile again, even for a moment. His heart ached at the sight of a man he was still so fond of looking so melancholy.
After an unsteady few words of parting, Gregory led Mona away, holding her hand tightly. Now, her pity was turned to him. She saw only the broken friendship. She had no notion of what it was he had truly lost when he had parted ways with David. If she knew, after all, she would never have allowed him near her, much less accepted his offer of his hand in marriage.
It was, Gregory knew, for the best. Whatever his reasons, David had been wise to cut the ties between them. Why he would determine to do so and still appear so miserable in his presence, Gregory could not fathom. He wanted to blame it on a childish petulance, the one thing David wanted but could not have, but he knew that was unkind and untrue. Still, it was good to have it done. No scandal could attach to Mona, no shame reach her ears, tales of not only disloyalty but illegal actions, too. He could raise their children and hold them to moral principles without defying the orders of God himself. What the heart yearned for— and it still conjured images of David when he was powerless to resist— could not be helped, but he could now resist allowing his body to carry the sin to action.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” It was David’s voice, clear and powerful. Conversations quieted, and Gregory felt a brief rush of panic. He did not think David would cast him into disgrace now, but he felt he could not be sure. David help up his wine glass. “We are here today to celebrate the union of Captain Gregory Hawke, one of the finest officers in our king’s navy, and, if I may use this now improper name once more, Miss Mona Donnelly, one of the most beautiful women Ireland may surely offer.” Gregory watched him, waiting for the worst as David smiled at him and Mona. “Join me, friends and family, in wishing them every happiness, none of the sorrows, and all the greatness life has to offer.”
Those present raised their voices in assent, and the lot drank to David’s toast. Gregory swallowed, and he thought he heard Mona give a single, stifled sob— happiness, he assured himself— beside him. David held his gaze for a moment before his spectre of a wife appeared at his side.
The woman whispered in his David’s ear, he in hers, and then he offered her his arm. Gregory was spoken to by an elderly man, a friend of Mona’s deceased father, and he allowed the man to distract him for a few minutes. When he glanced about again, as his brother made another toast, obviously annoyed someone had taken his first speech from him, he could find no sight or trace of the Longs. Like the distance David had put between them, Gregory supposed this silent disappearance was for the best. There need be no uneasy goodbyes, and he could remember his friend with a smile, wishing him and his wife well.
Gregory felt Mona touch his hand again, and he gave it a warm, firm squeeze. For the rest of his life, he swore, he was hers alone.
‡ ‡ ‡
“They make a handsome couple,” Edward murmured softly. For a moment, he imagined how beautiful Faith would be on her wedding day. He had given up his chance to see such a thing, and he could only regret it as he regretted the loss of life in action. It was the inevitable consequence. He had made the only choice he could live with, but he could still think sometimes of what could have been otherwise. “They’ll be happy together.”
“For the most part.” He didn’t have the energy to scold Joseph for the pragmatic reply.
However impossible everyone knew such things were, he hoped for everything David’s speech had prayed for them. He wondered, too, if Gregory felt fortunate to have had his past with David. Edward certainly could not manage to even pretend he thought Remy might show such grade in answer to his marriage, should he have wed Faith. Then again, he would have not dared to invite Remy at all, certainly. He shook his head at the thought, suddenly eager to return to Crawford Manor, return to Remy’s side. He missed him, even so soon.
Joseph finished his glass of wine and set it aside. He regarded Edward for a moment before he gestured for company and began walking down the little town’s street. Edward left his cup and obeyed.
For several long moments, all was silent. No one was out, and the sounds of animals nearly were easy to ignore. Joseph looked very contemplative, as if considering some important point of philosophy or theology or as if he were preparing for some surgery he had never attempted to save the life of someone of great importance. Edward followed silently, waiting for his opinion to be sought or whatever it was Joseph would ask of him when he chose to speak.
“What considerations have you made to the end of this peace, Edward?”
The words surprised him, and he stared in astonishment for several moments before he could truly think on the question. Whatever he had expected, it was not that. He followed in silence awhile more before he had any sort of reply to offer at all.
“What sort ought I to have made?”
“What will you and Capitaine Martineau do?” Joseph asked, his voice low. “Who will betray his country?”
The thought had occurred to him, and he felt he and Remy had danced around the question more than once, yet Edward knew he had only one honest answer to provide. “We haven’t talked about it.”
“Enjoying the happiness now, heedless of the sorrow it must be repaid with.”
Hawke had said something similar about love, Edward reflected. It felt like a lifetime ago, but he remembered the words clearly enough. Now Joseph was echoing him, and that concerned him greatly.
“What had you heard, Joseph?”
“Whispers,” Joseph replied very softly. “There are always, thousands of them. Only one may have a grain of truth, but they must all be considered. It may amount to nothing, but that will not be so forever. You must be ready for when they become something more potent.”
The though painted him, but Edward knew it was true. If it could wait another year or five, perhaps he could be surer of what might happen and what would become of him when war came again. He looked at Joseph, who was now watching him with those steady pale eyes. “I’ll be ready when it happens, my friend. I swear.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Tonight, perhaps even now, when Gregory took Mona to his bed, it would be legal, their union sanctified by God and man. They were husband and wife and deeply in love. They would be happy and raise children full of light and joy.
Abigail slept peacefully in the next room, aided by one of Clay’s draughts. David normally protested the idea, but he could not act as her source of comfort tonight. Just as he could not provide company for Edward as he drank. Just as he could not distract Clay with a game of chess. Just as he could not interest himself in Lieutenant Augustus Carrol, who had attended the wedding, made overtures, and was staying three doors down.
David stropped his razor absently, watching it gleam with the movement in the dim candlelight. He felt tired more than he had in a long time.
His wife still needed someone to care for her, to make her feel safe. She needed a son, grown. He could watch over her. Faith still needed someone less than a father to mind her interests. She needed a husband, devoted. He could guide her steps. Edward still needed someone to house him. He needed a house, hidden. That would protect him and his lover. Gregory still needed someone to see him secured in the service. He needed a ship, assigned. That would see him well supplied for the years to come. Mona still needed someone to let her settle. She needed time, unmarred. That would allow her to help Gregory forget. There were so many still in need, and he was keenly aware of every weight on his shoulders.
David set the razor down beside his tin of shaving cream and went to his bed.
Not tonight.
Book Three
Chapter Fourteen
The travel to Dublin and then to the little parish who hours north of it proved blissfully quiet. By the last evening, Abigail was finally speaking again and slept apart from him. Not that David could offer complaint when she appeared, silent and as pale or worse than her shift, in his doorway. The nights passed with her thin body pressed against his, quivering, and he had held her as he would have Faith. David could only consider it a blessing when she showed some sign of recovery. He would not have asked her, in that state, to either bear his absence or endure what small crowd would make up the wedding party.
It was a very small church, and the guests were very easily distinguished, even without their separation. The men in uniform were present for Captain Hawke while Miss Donnelly was the cause of the civilians. Her near-uncle played the role of father, and the oldest of Gregory’s younger brothers— four in total, this one named Daniel— stood by his side with the ring at the ready. Mona looked very pretty, garbed in a pale yellow that set nicely with her tanned skin and copper hair. Gregory, David could not help thinking, had never looked better. He wore a pristine uniform and stood as proud and tall as a mast on a first-rate. From where he sat, David was sure he saw discreet glances from the groom to the bride as the minister led them through their vows before the congregation.
As the final words were uttered and the ring placed on Mona’s finger, transforming her from Miss Donnelly to Missus Hawke, her now-husband turned to her. Before their witnesses and in full sight of God, he kissed her. It was not a kiss of passion, but it lingered. David made himself smile at the look of love he saw pass between them, and he rose from the pew only when Abigail touched his arm.
“We can return to the inn now,” she whispered to him. David forgave the pitying look she fixed upon him, simply because he felt it was at least partially owed to him. He felt particularly vulnerable.
He shook his head before he said, “Not yet, my dear. A brief appearance at the breakfast must be made first. Then we may go.”
The minister’s wife had opened her home to the bride for her reception. The food and spirits were meagre, but those present were determined to make the most of it all, and their gaiety fanned the flames of the couple’s happiness, making the joy almost impossible not to catch. For David, it proved easy enough to pretend to enjoy himself as he made a small round about the party, always deftly avoiding coming into contact with Gregory. The men who had come consisted of many mutual friends, and he spent a great deal of time with them, as he observed Burr doing as well. In a way, it amused him greatly that all of these men still spoke to them.
They knew nothing, of course, of Mister Burr’s attachments now. Many had heard of his engagement and its painful end, and Burr dodged their sympathies without ever hinting at fault with Faith to such an extent that David was obliged to whisper his thanks for his consideration to her and her reputation. Inwardly, he was still sorry she had been hurt so. At least she was willing to write to him once more. She had forgiven him his role, at least, and David had noted a marked softening of his vitriol against Edward. He could not say its cause, but he had encouraged it. He spoke to a fellow lieutenant for several moments, listening to his fretting over his impending proposal and assuring him the dear girl he described would surely accept his offer.
“Mister Long.” The voice behind him made him want to disappear, but he finished his conversation and turned to the speaker.
“Missus Hawke,” he answered as warmly as he could manage, sweeping into a bow to kiss the back of her hand. “May I wish you congratulations on your wedding and every happiness in the years to come?”
She was beautiful when she smiled, especially with the flush of pleasure she tried desperately to hide. He appreciated the effort and found he could, for the most part, forgive her the joy she felt. It was not her fault Gregory loved her so. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “For your warm words now, your kindness to me these last several months, and your presence now. I beg your forgiveness if—”
“There is nothing to forgive.” His voice was too harsh, he knew, his feelings too raw. He dipped his head, unable to offer any proper apology for his tone. To say more would provoke tears, and he would not let anyone present see even a hint of such emotions from him, particularly today. That might give rise to gossip of some kind, and he would not allow for anything of the sort.
“There you are, Missus Hawke,” Gregory’s warm voice broke in. He chuckled, “Married half an hour, and already vanishing. A poor start, I should say.” All his mirth and teasing stopped when his eyes fell on David, and it cut deep that the sight of him affected Gregory so. “Mister Long.” His voice sounded strained, as if he were concealing pain. He could not manage a smile. “Welcome.”
“Captain Hawke,” David said, saluting. He knew now he should have refused the invitation; Gregory had wanted him to refuse. “Congratulations.”
‡ ‡ ‡
It was strange. In a way, it even frightened him, the sight of Mona and David standing together. Mona seemed beside herself with pity, David as though he were wounded to near point of death but trying in vain to conceal it. He feared a scene, even if the possibility seemed remote. Even with David’s letter of acceptance, he was still surprised to see the man here. Worse was how the sight of him still moved him. Gregory wanted to take him aside, whisper to him until he would smile again, even for a moment. His heart ached at the sight of a man he was still so fond of looking so melancholy.
After an unsteady few words of parting, Gregory led Mona away, holding her hand tightly. Now, her pity was turned to him. She saw only the broken friendship. She had no notion of what it was he had truly lost when he had parted ways with David. If she knew, after all, she would never have allowed him near her, much less accepted his offer of his hand in marriage.
It was, Gregory knew, for the best. Whatever his reasons, David had been wise to cut the ties between them. Why he would determine to do so and still appear so miserable in his presence, Gregory could not fathom. He wanted to blame it on a childish petulance, the one thing David wanted but could not have, but he knew that was unkind and untrue. Still, it was good to have it done. No scandal could attach to Mona, no shame reach her ears, tales of not only disloyalty but illegal actions, too. He could raise their children and hold them to moral principles without defying the orders of God himself. What the heart yearned for— and it still conjured images of David when he was powerless to resist— could not be helped, but he could now resist allowing his body to carry the sin to action.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” It was David’s voice, clear and powerful. Conversations quieted, and Gregory felt a brief rush of panic. He did not think David would cast him into disgrace now, but he felt he could not be sure. David help up his wine glass. “We are here today to celebrate the union of Captain Gregory Hawke, one of the finest officers in our king’s navy, and, if I may use this now improper name once more, Miss Mona Donnelly, one of the most beautiful women Ireland may surely offer.” Gregory watched him, waiting for the worst as David smiled at him and Mona. “Join me, friends and family, in wishing them every happiness, none of the sorrows, and all the greatness life has to offer.”
Those present raised their voices in assent, and the lot drank to David’s toast. Gregory swallowed, and he thought he heard Mona give a single, stifled sob— happiness, he assured himself— beside him. David held his gaze for a moment before his spectre of a wife appeared at his side.
The woman whispered in his David’s ear, he in hers, and then he offered her his arm. Gregory was spoken to by an elderly man, a friend of Mona’s deceased father, and he allowed the man to distract him for a few minutes. When he glanced about again, as his brother made another toast, obviously annoyed someone had taken his first speech from him, he could find no sight or trace of the Longs. Like the distance David had put between them, Gregory supposed this silent disappearance was for the best. There need be no uneasy goodbyes, and he could remember his friend with a smile, wishing him and his wife well.
Gregory felt Mona touch his hand again, and he gave it a warm, firm squeeze. For the rest of his life, he swore, he was hers alone.
‡ ‡ ‡
“They make a handsome couple,” Edward murmured softly. For a moment, he imagined how beautiful Faith would be on her wedding day. He had given up his chance to see such a thing, and he could only regret it as he regretted the loss of life in action. It was the inevitable consequence. He had made the only choice he could live with, but he could still think sometimes of what could have been otherwise. “They’ll be happy together.”
“For the most part.” He didn’t have the energy to scold Joseph for the pragmatic reply.
However impossible everyone knew such things were, he hoped for everything David’s speech had prayed for them. He wondered, too, if Gregory felt fortunate to have had his past with David. Edward certainly could not manage to even pretend he thought Remy might show such grade in answer to his marriage, should he have wed Faith. Then again, he would have not dared to invite Remy at all, certainly. He shook his head at the thought, suddenly eager to return to Crawford Manor, return to Remy’s side. He missed him, even so soon.
Joseph finished his glass of wine and set it aside. He regarded Edward for a moment before he gestured for company and began walking down the little town’s street. Edward left his cup and obeyed.
For several long moments, all was silent. No one was out, and the sounds of animals nearly were easy to ignore. Joseph looked very contemplative, as if considering some important point of philosophy or theology or as if he were preparing for some surgery he had never attempted to save the life of someone of great importance. Edward followed silently, waiting for his opinion to be sought or whatever it was Joseph would ask of him when he chose to speak.
“What considerations have you made to the end of this peace, Edward?”
The words surprised him, and he stared in astonishment for several moments before he could truly think on the question. Whatever he had expected, it was not that. He followed in silence awhile more before he had any sort of reply to offer at all.
“What sort ought I to have made?”
“What will you and Capitaine Martineau do?” Joseph asked, his voice low. “Who will betray his country?”
The thought had occurred to him, and he felt he and Remy had danced around the question more than once, yet Edward knew he had only one honest answer to provide. “We haven’t talked about it.”
“Enjoying the happiness now, heedless of the sorrow it must be repaid with.”
Hawke had said something similar about love, Edward reflected. It felt like a lifetime ago, but he remembered the words clearly enough. Now Joseph was echoing him, and that concerned him greatly.
“What had you heard, Joseph?”
“Whispers,” Joseph replied very softly. “There are always, thousands of them. Only one may have a grain of truth, but they must all be considered. It may amount to nothing, but that will not be so forever. You must be ready for when they become something more potent.”
The though painted him, but Edward knew it was true. If it could wait another year or five, perhaps he could be surer of what might happen and what would become of him when war came again. He looked at Joseph, who was now watching him with those steady pale eyes. “I’ll be ready when it happens, my friend. I swear.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Tonight, perhaps even now, when Gregory took Mona to his bed, it would be legal, their union sanctified by God and man. They were husband and wife and deeply in love. They would be happy and raise children full of light and joy.
Abigail slept peacefully in the next room, aided by one of Clay’s draughts. David normally protested the idea, but he could not act as her source of comfort tonight. Just as he could not provide company for Edward as he drank. Just as he could not distract Clay with a game of chess. Just as he could not interest himself in Lieutenant Augustus Carrol, who had attended the wedding, made overtures, and was staying three doors down.
David stropped his razor absently, watching it gleam with the movement in the dim candlelight. He felt tired more than he had in a long time.
His wife still needed someone to care for her, to make her feel safe. She needed a son, grown. He could watch over her. Faith still needed someone less than a father to mind her interests. She needed a husband, devoted. He could guide her steps. Edward still needed someone to house him. He needed a house, hidden. That would protect him and his lover. Gregory still needed someone to see him secured in the service. He needed a ship, assigned. That would see him well supplied for the years to come. Mona still needed someone to let her settle. She needed time, unmarred. That would allow her to help Gregory forget. There were so many still in need, and he was keenly aware of every weight on his shoulders.
David set the razor down beside his tin of shaving cream and went to his bed.
Not tonight.