Edward Burr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-29 03:46 pm
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-29 03:46 pm
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The Price of Peace - Chapter Twenty-Two
The Price of Peace
Book Three
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was late in the evening when they reached Plymouth. The port town was not asleep in the slightest. Most of the taverns were well-lit, and the sounds of merriment filled the air. Women plied their trade on the streets while Remy and Edward passed by, leading their horses. When a boy approached them, they surrendered the beasts and went into the establishment he had indicated would put them up for the night.
“Your hand has our two horses,” Edward said to the proprietor. “We require two rooms for the night, a hot meal each, and a bottle of wine.”
Remy was aware that he was given a critical consideration. The place was surely nearly full, and many of the men having a late supper were dressed in Royal Navy uniforms. He had forgone his uniform, so he looked like a somewhat ragged civilian. To be fair, that likely did him more credit than appearing as a French officer. At least he was in the company of a uniformed commander. It was, he knew, Edward’s presence that made the man nod and offer his book forward. Edward took it and signed his name. Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrote down a second name: Reginald Martin.
Remy had to smile. A clever move, certainly. It would help damn him if they were found, but it would keep their host from prying too much into their affairs. He remained silent as they were led into the next room through an open doorway. Once they took a seat, the man called a harried-looking young woman over. Edward ordered the bottle of wine again as well as a full hot meal for both of them. The girl went to fetch it, and the man left to resume his post.
When Remy spoke, he kept his voice very low in hopes his accent would not be overheard, “Will you be so kind, my dear friend, as to come to my rooms tonight? I would spend this night with you, if you will agree.” He passed only the very tips of his fingers over Edward’s knuckles.
“I would be nowhere else for all the world,” his lover replied. Remy felt a small ache in his chest at how earnestly those grey eyes gleamed. “We can have that much.”
It was a cruel God who had made him a citizen of France and Edward Burr an Englishman. Were they born to the same country, he would scarcely allow the man to be moved from his side. Remaining here had never been in his mind. A small part of him hoped that Edward would come to France with him, but he supposed that he would not seem like the same man if he would leave his country for love of another. Still, he regretted that they would have to part as permanently as this required. Perhaps, he thought, peace would prevail soon, and they could resume their time together.
Both of them ate greedily when their food came to them. While Mister Farley had seen them well supplied, freshly cooked beef and bread and gravy tasted like a full Christmas feast. The wine warmed them, body and mind. It gave them some small reserve of energy when mixed with the food, and Remy was glad for it. It would not last long, no, but it would allow time enough for them to enjoy themselves and make a proper goodbye of this night. When they finished their meal, they discreetly retired to one room together.
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward could not say with any certainty that he had truly slept. Even in Plymouth, they were not yet safe. He knew that all too well. He had drifted for hours between sleep and wakefulness, sometimes roused by tired, sweet kisses to his neck, other times coaxing Remy from sleep with gentle touches. The night passed like a dream, yet he did not feel wholly rested. It was a hard struggle to pull himself away from Remy and get out of the bed. They had thoroughly satisfied themselves several times, yet he felt immediately as though he could lose himself again in those arms.
Slowly, they dressed, hindered as they were by soft kisses. After Remy checked the hall and found no one about, they left together. The innkeeper wished them well after Edward paid him, and the pair went out onto the street.
The city was busier now. Respectable men and women walked about, making social rounds or on some errand or another. Messengers scurried to and fro, some well-dressed and others obviously just getting by. Edward was always alert, looking for the sharp-faced Miles or any man who looked like he might be associated with him. So far, he had seen nothing.
Two men seemed to appear out of thin air the very instant he was more than three paces away from Remy. They were large men and closely resembled the bailiffs a creditor might send in the case of debt. He knew that could not be the case. What they might want mattered very little. He knew they were not friendly, and that was enough to put him on edge. As he approached, he realised their purpose: they were a press gang.
“Gentlemen!” It was the quarterdeck boom he called on, and they almost jumped. Edward was almost amused by how quickly their posture shifted when they really took notice of him. They saw the uniform first then the epaulette. If they were not stopped now, all this trouble was worthless. “What do you think you’re doing, sirs?”
“Pardon us, sir,” one said. He made a clumsy salute. “Royal Navy needs every man she can have, sir. As you know, sir.”
Edward summoned all the indignation of an admiral mistake for a lieutenant. “Of course I know that,” he snapped. “My ship barely has enough men to sail, and now you lot are trying to make off with my steward. Who the hell do you report to? I’ll see you answer for this!”
The threat sounded genuine, and the men cowed. “No need for that, sir,” the second man said very quickly. “We’re very sorry, sir.” He nodded to Remy and added, “Sorry to have bothered you. Ought to have said something.” Edward felt almost surprised neither could hear how his heart pounded. It seemed monstrously loud to him. They left, though, wandering down the street to find another victim, one without a protector.
Remy looked at him. Much of the colour had drained form his face, but a faint smile was beginning to show. It had been too narrow an escape at too late an hour for him to feel only relief. He could breathe—both of them could—but they were all too aware of how near to disaster they had come. “We are fortunate they did not ask me to cook for them,” Remy muttered with a strained chuckle.
‡ ‡ ‡
The actual parting was very brief and nothing short of professional. They exchanged warm words of friendship and chatted lightly about writing and the possibility of Edward visiting France. They gave no indication to anyone who might hear them how aware they were of the coming war.
As the jetty rowed away from the dock and toward the American ship, Remy let himself glance back for one final look. He saw the uniformed figure standing at attention. It was a sight he fixed in his mind, desperate to never forget. Not that he feared he would. Edward had touched some part of his mind and heart no other had ever reached. Even if he wanted to, he would never forget his English captain. Though it heighted the risk should they meet again during the hostilities, he hoped Edward soon saw command again. He silently wished him well and repeated the words of love they’d come to exchange so easily.
The boat pulled alongside the Carolina, and Remy made his way across the entry port to the American whistles. A few odd glances were exchanged when he came onto the deck, and Remy could only imagine what they thought of him. At the very best, he looked like a common sailor. His appearance was nothing like that of a captain. Yet, even as unfamiliar as he was with the American signals, he felt sure the piping had announced him as such. A youth of probably ten years or so ran aft to the quarterdeck, spoke to one officer. Then, at a gesture, he hurried below. Remy could assume he’d been sent for the American captain, who must be expecting him.
The man came up a few moments later. Remy offered a polite bow. “Captain Andrews,” he said. “I am a few days early. I hope that will not present difficulties to you.”
Captain Andrews was a short man with a stocky build. He had pale eyes and fair hair, his face deeply tanned from what Remy could guess was service in the West Indies. His look was still somewhat wary, but the words seemed to reassure him at least a little. “Captain Martineau,” he said with a smile, however hesitant it was. “Welcome to Carolina, sir. Mister Langely will show you to your cabin, and I’ll see if we can’t find you something else to wear.”
“I would be most grateful,” Remy answered with a small bow.
The ship was a fine one, Remy decided as he followed the twelve-year-old Langely below. She was short on crew, no doubt from British ships and their captains who felt American sailors were no more than erring subjects of King George, still legally allowed to be pressed into service on their ships of war. Perhaps that was why Carolina had guns. Pirates were a threat, of course, but Remy would not be surprised if it was also meant as a deterrent to keep the press at bay. With this treaty nearly dissolved, he was very aware that Captain Andrews would soon face that threat anew.
He was shown to a passenger cabin, a rather luxurious place to spend the short venture between England and France. The boy hurried away after a few moments. Off to report to the captain and, perhaps, find him something to wear that gave him a slightly more formal appearance than his riding clothes.
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward waited for three days, listening for any sign of Miles. By the fifteenth, though, it seemed all would be well. Remy on the American ship meant Miles would have to make quite a fuss to secure him now; Edward knew he would hear of any attempt made. When the day for the launch came without incident, he felt secure enough to go to the docks to watch. It was all he cared to do.
He knew, of course, that he could likely petition Carolina’s captain to allow him passage to France. He could start a new life, unhindered by British laws. He could live as a citizen of the Republic. Those who knew him here would forgive him a moment of weakness, might someday pardon for choosing himself and his heart over his duty to his country. Even Joseph, eventually, might not hate him. He thought about it, wanted to do it with all his heart, yet he knew it would be nothing more than a dream.
Even if he could bring himself to do such a thing, Edward knew he could be unable to live with the action after it was taken. There was no one thing to drawn him back to England; there was little to compel him to stay. Yet, he was bound to his country by loyalties he could not explain. Perhaps this ache would mend when he got away from the shore. Once he was aboard a ship and on the sea, maybe his heart and mind could ally again, renew a harmony they had once had. Edward knew he could not hope to have command any time soon. He would have offended the admiral, and he knew he had done little with his short tenure as an active commander to warrant anything beyond a lieutenancy. Hopefully, he would at least serve with Joseph again when the time came.
A little time and separation would do him a world of good. Being at sea would help immensely. Joseph’s presence, too, was something to look forward to. He would be relieved to hear all of this had been done without complication. Hopefully, the dead highwayman had been only what he said. If not, Edward needed to know about it first, so he could prepare, whatever it was or would be.
Edward watched Carolina as the men on her deck came to life. Her sails were loosed by her able crew, and the men hurried down the rigging as the slow, steady breeze began to fill the canvas. A chipper fiddle began to play as the chorus of the American version of a capstan song rang out. Even from where he was, Edward heard the metallic clanging of the chain as the great wheel turned. He knew it might only be a fancy, hearing it, but he embraced the idea all the same. The anchor rose from the water, dripping as it hit the air, and the frigate began to crawl away from the other ships.
He took a deep breath of sea air, almost relieved there could be no questioning now, no hypothetical fantasies about France. His last chance was gone, and Remy went with it. Tears fought to escape, and he did not hold them as a verse came to his lips.
“Our ship lies at anchor; she’s ready to dock,
I wish her safe landing without any shock.
And if ever I should meet you by land or by sea,
I shall always remember your kindness to me.”
Edward gave a start when a soft, familiar feminine voice behind him said his name.
Book Three
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was late in the evening when they reached Plymouth. The port town was not asleep in the slightest. Most of the taverns were well-lit, and the sounds of merriment filled the air. Women plied their trade on the streets while Remy and Edward passed by, leading their horses. When a boy approached them, they surrendered the beasts and went into the establishment he had indicated would put them up for the night.
“Your hand has our two horses,” Edward said to the proprietor. “We require two rooms for the night, a hot meal each, and a bottle of wine.”
Remy was aware that he was given a critical consideration. The place was surely nearly full, and many of the men having a late supper were dressed in Royal Navy uniforms. He had forgone his uniform, so he looked like a somewhat ragged civilian. To be fair, that likely did him more credit than appearing as a French officer. At least he was in the company of a uniformed commander. It was, he knew, Edward’s presence that made the man nod and offer his book forward. Edward took it and signed his name. Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrote down a second name: Reginald Martin.
Remy had to smile. A clever move, certainly. It would help damn him if they were found, but it would keep their host from prying too much into their affairs. He remained silent as they were led into the next room through an open doorway. Once they took a seat, the man called a harried-looking young woman over. Edward ordered the bottle of wine again as well as a full hot meal for both of them. The girl went to fetch it, and the man left to resume his post.
When Remy spoke, he kept his voice very low in hopes his accent would not be overheard, “Will you be so kind, my dear friend, as to come to my rooms tonight? I would spend this night with you, if you will agree.” He passed only the very tips of his fingers over Edward’s knuckles.
“I would be nowhere else for all the world,” his lover replied. Remy felt a small ache in his chest at how earnestly those grey eyes gleamed. “We can have that much.”
It was a cruel God who had made him a citizen of France and Edward Burr an Englishman. Were they born to the same country, he would scarcely allow the man to be moved from his side. Remaining here had never been in his mind. A small part of him hoped that Edward would come to France with him, but he supposed that he would not seem like the same man if he would leave his country for love of another. Still, he regretted that they would have to part as permanently as this required. Perhaps, he thought, peace would prevail soon, and they could resume their time together.
Both of them ate greedily when their food came to them. While Mister Farley had seen them well supplied, freshly cooked beef and bread and gravy tasted like a full Christmas feast. The wine warmed them, body and mind. It gave them some small reserve of energy when mixed with the food, and Remy was glad for it. It would not last long, no, but it would allow time enough for them to enjoy themselves and make a proper goodbye of this night. When they finished their meal, they discreetly retired to one room together.
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward could not say with any certainty that he had truly slept. Even in Plymouth, they were not yet safe. He knew that all too well. He had drifted for hours between sleep and wakefulness, sometimes roused by tired, sweet kisses to his neck, other times coaxing Remy from sleep with gentle touches. The night passed like a dream, yet he did not feel wholly rested. It was a hard struggle to pull himself away from Remy and get out of the bed. They had thoroughly satisfied themselves several times, yet he felt immediately as though he could lose himself again in those arms.
Slowly, they dressed, hindered as they were by soft kisses. After Remy checked the hall and found no one about, they left together. The innkeeper wished them well after Edward paid him, and the pair went out onto the street.
The city was busier now. Respectable men and women walked about, making social rounds or on some errand or another. Messengers scurried to and fro, some well-dressed and others obviously just getting by. Edward was always alert, looking for the sharp-faced Miles or any man who looked like he might be associated with him. So far, he had seen nothing.
Two men seemed to appear out of thin air the very instant he was more than three paces away from Remy. They were large men and closely resembled the bailiffs a creditor might send in the case of debt. He knew that could not be the case. What they might want mattered very little. He knew they were not friendly, and that was enough to put him on edge. As he approached, he realised their purpose: they were a press gang.
“Gentlemen!” It was the quarterdeck boom he called on, and they almost jumped. Edward was almost amused by how quickly their posture shifted when they really took notice of him. They saw the uniform first then the epaulette. If they were not stopped now, all this trouble was worthless. “What do you think you’re doing, sirs?”
“Pardon us, sir,” one said. He made a clumsy salute. “Royal Navy needs every man she can have, sir. As you know, sir.”
Edward summoned all the indignation of an admiral mistake for a lieutenant. “Of course I know that,” he snapped. “My ship barely has enough men to sail, and now you lot are trying to make off with my steward. Who the hell do you report to? I’ll see you answer for this!”
The threat sounded genuine, and the men cowed. “No need for that, sir,” the second man said very quickly. “We’re very sorry, sir.” He nodded to Remy and added, “Sorry to have bothered you. Ought to have said something.” Edward felt almost surprised neither could hear how his heart pounded. It seemed monstrously loud to him. They left, though, wandering down the street to find another victim, one without a protector.
Remy looked at him. Much of the colour had drained form his face, but a faint smile was beginning to show. It had been too narrow an escape at too late an hour for him to feel only relief. He could breathe—both of them could—but they were all too aware of how near to disaster they had come. “We are fortunate they did not ask me to cook for them,” Remy muttered with a strained chuckle.
‡ ‡ ‡
The actual parting was very brief and nothing short of professional. They exchanged warm words of friendship and chatted lightly about writing and the possibility of Edward visiting France. They gave no indication to anyone who might hear them how aware they were of the coming war.
As the jetty rowed away from the dock and toward the American ship, Remy let himself glance back for one final look. He saw the uniformed figure standing at attention. It was a sight he fixed in his mind, desperate to never forget. Not that he feared he would. Edward had touched some part of his mind and heart no other had ever reached. Even if he wanted to, he would never forget his English captain. Though it heighted the risk should they meet again during the hostilities, he hoped Edward soon saw command again. He silently wished him well and repeated the words of love they’d come to exchange so easily.
The boat pulled alongside the Carolina, and Remy made his way across the entry port to the American whistles. A few odd glances were exchanged when he came onto the deck, and Remy could only imagine what they thought of him. At the very best, he looked like a common sailor. His appearance was nothing like that of a captain. Yet, even as unfamiliar as he was with the American signals, he felt sure the piping had announced him as such. A youth of probably ten years or so ran aft to the quarterdeck, spoke to one officer. Then, at a gesture, he hurried below. Remy could assume he’d been sent for the American captain, who must be expecting him.
The man came up a few moments later. Remy offered a polite bow. “Captain Andrews,” he said. “I am a few days early. I hope that will not present difficulties to you.”
Captain Andrews was a short man with a stocky build. He had pale eyes and fair hair, his face deeply tanned from what Remy could guess was service in the West Indies. His look was still somewhat wary, but the words seemed to reassure him at least a little. “Captain Martineau,” he said with a smile, however hesitant it was. “Welcome to Carolina, sir. Mister Langely will show you to your cabin, and I’ll see if we can’t find you something else to wear.”
“I would be most grateful,” Remy answered with a small bow.
The ship was a fine one, Remy decided as he followed the twelve-year-old Langely below. She was short on crew, no doubt from British ships and their captains who felt American sailors were no more than erring subjects of King George, still legally allowed to be pressed into service on their ships of war. Perhaps that was why Carolina had guns. Pirates were a threat, of course, but Remy would not be surprised if it was also meant as a deterrent to keep the press at bay. With this treaty nearly dissolved, he was very aware that Captain Andrews would soon face that threat anew.
He was shown to a passenger cabin, a rather luxurious place to spend the short venture between England and France. The boy hurried away after a few moments. Off to report to the captain and, perhaps, find him something to wear that gave him a slightly more formal appearance than his riding clothes.
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward waited for three days, listening for any sign of Miles. By the fifteenth, though, it seemed all would be well. Remy on the American ship meant Miles would have to make quite a fuss to secure him now; Edward knew he would hear of any attempt made. When the day for the launch came without incident, he felt secure enough to go to the docks to watch. It was all he cared to do.
He knew, of course, that he could likely petition Carolina’s captain to allow him passage to France. He could start a new life, unhindered by British laws. He could live as a citizen of the Republic. Those who knew him here would forgive him a moment of weakness, might someday pardon for choosing himself and his heart over his duty to his country. Even Joseph, eventually, might not hate him. He thought about it, wanted to do it with all his heart, yet he knew it would be nothing more than a dream.
Even if he could bring himself to do such a thing, Edward knew he could be unable to live with the action after it was taken. There was no one thing to drawn him back to England; there was little to compel him to stay. Yet, he was bound to his country by loyalties he could not explain. Perhaps this ache would mend when he got away from the shore. Once he was aboard a ship and on the sea, maybe his heart and mind could ally again, renew a harmony they had once had. Edward knew he could not hope to have command any time soon. He would have offended the admiral, and he knew he had done little with his short tenure as an active commander to warrant anything beyond a lieutenancy. Hopefully, he would at least serve with Joseph again when the time came.
A little time and separation would do him a world of good. Being at sea would help immensely. Joseph’s presence, too, was something to look forward to. He would be relieved to hear all of this had been done without complication. Hopefully, the dead highwayman had been only what he said. If not, Edward needed to know about it first, so he could prepare, whatever it was or would be.
Edward watched Carolina as the men on her deck came to life. Her sails were loosed by her able crew, and the men hurried down the rigging as the slow, steady breeze began to fill the canvas. A chipper fiddle began to play as the chorus of the American version of a capstan song rang out. Even from where he was, Edward heard the metallic clanging of the chain as the great wheel turned. He knew it might only be a fancy, hearing it, but he embraced the idea all the same. The anchor rose from the water, dripping as it hit the air, and the frigate began to crawl away from the other ships.
He took a deep breath of sea air, almost relieved there could be no questioning now, no hypothetical fantasies about France. His last chance was gone, and Remy went with it. Tears fought to escape, and he did not hold them as a verse came to his lips.
“Our ship lies at anchor; she’s ready to dock,
I wish her safe landing without any shock.
And if ever I should meet you by land or by sea,
I shall always remember your kindness to me.”
Edward gave a start when a soft, familiar feminine voice behind him said his name.