Chapter 42

Neither Marcus, nor Katherine, found themselves content for very long. After a fortnight spent at the cottage, packing the things Katherine wanted to take amid catching up on years of lost love, they both expressed a mutual desire to cut their honeymoon trip short and return to Shelly. Marcus wanted to be home to watch the buildings go up, to watch the fields being turned before winter arrived, and to start utilizing any surplus on the estate to aid as many of the poor as they possibly could. When not enjoying his passionate wife, Marcus found his mind consumed with the progress that may, or may not, be being accomplished at the estate in his absence. He wanted to spend time with Violet also, now that their relationship was in the open, to share in his son's accomplishments while watching his goals come to fruition.

Katherine found herself more eager than she had anticipated to settle in at Marcus' hunting lodge for the present. She felt ready to make a home with him and to try to assume her duties as his baroness. If they left soon enough, they would make it home in time for the masquerade the King had issued invitations to, in honor of the Duchess of Kent's return. Katherine thought it may be a less stressful opportunity for her to make her first step into society as Marcus' wife, as the focus of the evening would, hopefully, be centered on the duchess. It would also be Violet and Elizabeth's debut in society, and she would certainly desire to be there for that.

On the second Sunday spent in the quiet community, after church, Marcus and Katherine said their goodbyes. Katherine's were tearful, and heartfelt. Marcus stood right behind her, promising repeatedly that he would bring her back to visit before too much time had passed. Brutus's parents came by the cottage later that afternoon with letters to be delivered to the men, congratulations on their pardons, and exclamations of pride and joy for their son, that he now sailed as a full fledged captain in the King's service. Beatrice, Brutus's mother, just may have hinted in her letter to her son, that he make a quick visit on his way back out to sea, so they could tell him themselves just how happy they were for him. Marcus and Anthony, Brutus's father, exchanged warm handshakes, Marcus inviting them to Shelly anytime soon, even before Brutus set sail if they wished to. Anthony had raised a brow in interest, Beatrice had blushed at the thought of visiting the city. Having never left her birthplace either, Katherine understood Beatrice's trepidations. Reassurances, and a description of Marcus's country estate, calmed Beatrice's fears somewhat and even inspired a desire to mayhap, venture forth into the unknown. Katherine promised to hug and kiss Brutus for his mother, the men smiling indulgently, knowing the women would miss one another after living so closely all their lives.

After a quiet evening at home, getting to bed early, so as to gain an early start in the morn, Marcus woke Katherine at dawn in a leisurely manner before then harassing her to hurry so they could be on their way.

Lynwood was stowing the last of their things in the boot. Marcus was making a nuisance of himself, supervising Lynwood as he loaded the coach, after Marcus had promised Katherine that her mother's china would be well placed.

"That be all of it, milord?" Lynwood asked Marcus.

"I believe so, Lynwood, unless our lady finds anything else she simply can not do without." Marcus was in good humor this morn. The day had dawned a bit foggy, yet, it was clearing even as they packed. The bright, morning sun, burning the sea fog away quickly, boded well for their day of travel.

"Here comes Ol' Chaunce, milord." Lynwood observed the old pirate mincing sprightly their way.

As it had been, and as would follow for quite a while, Chauncey looked all about him as he came down the lane from Reverend Fielding's cottage.

Marcus smiled indulgently, happy to notice over their visit that Chauncey's improved sight also seemed to have improved his mind. The old man bathed on a regular basis these days, he washed his clothing regularly, and he took much more care with his appearance. Noting the fresh shave, his hair slicked back neatly, Marcus could appreciate Chauncey's newfound lease on life as the widows in the community now invited Chauncey over for afternoon tea and pastries, enjoying his stories and the company he provided.

"Are ye leavin' already, Marcus?" Chauncey squinted from habit behind his specks.

"Aye, Chaunce. Katy is chomping at the bit, she wants to be about our return now that she knows you and the Pratt's will follow."

"Ye be sure 'bout havin' room for an ol' barnacle such as meself?" Chauncey squinted up at Marcus, hoping he was still welcome to come along with Josh, Sissy, and Anna.

"I am sure we can find you a cot somewhere, Chaunce." Marcus teased the old sailor indulgently, patting his shoulder gently.

"Good, good." Chauncey nodded in agreement, "A hammock be doing jus' as well." His head continued to bob as he smiled, his blackened, rotted teeth causing Marcus to vow to have that addressed when Chauncey arrived at Shelly in a fortnight's time.

Katherine came from the cottage, closing the door securely behind her, as Marcus went to her and availed himself of the basket and bag she carried.

"Allow me, my lady." Marcus smiled teasingly at his love.

"You just put that in the carriage, Marcus, and keep out of it at least until we are on the road." Katherine scolded, as Marcus peeked inside. He reached for a pastry while Katherine reached to swat his hand. "Can you not wait? My goodness, Marcus, you just had breakfast, how are you hungry already?"

Marcus grinned at his beautiful, scornful wife. If he was scolded every single day for the remainder of his life, he would be content, as long as it was her doing the scolding.

Katherine's violet eyes sparked with mild frustration and a small amount of disbelief, as Marcus did avail himself of the pastry, taking a large bite before setting the basket on the floor of the carriage and sliding it under the seat. Turning back to Katherine's frowning countenance, Marcus grinned and chewed, taking her bag from her he placed it inside also as she shook her head at him. His behavior did cause her to miss Violet all the more, however, as she had noticed quite a few similarities the father and son shared that she had never quite taken note of before. Now that she was with Marcus day and night, these traits became readily apparent. She was being teased on a regular basis while, at the same time, being made to feel worthy and appreciated, and very, very loved. It reminded her of when Violet had been at home, before he went to sea. The same charm, the same teasing, though Marcus's was oftentimes of an intimate nature, yet, they both gave her the same feeling of being incredibly loved and cared for. These were the traits that father and son shared.

Katherine tsked at her husband, "Glutton." She stated haughtily, before turning away from the hopeless man. Opening her arms towards Chauncey, the old man scuttled forward for his goodbye. "We shall see you soon," Katherine pulled back to engage Chauncey's clear vision, "you are sure you do not want to come with us now?" Katherine placed a hand on Chauncey's cheek, as he nodded his answer. "Right then, we shall see all of you a fortnight from now."

"I be countin' the days, Katy." Chauncey assured her.

"As will I." Katherine kissed his weathered cheek, pulling him in for one more embrace, she held to Chauncey tightly as he beamed over her shoulder at Marcus. Pulling back, Katherine smiled at him brightly before turning to her gluttonous husband and shaking her head once more at him in mock disdain. "Are we ready?" She asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

Marcus nodded, as his mouth was full with the last of the pastry. He chewed it quickly, ducking his head in faux repentance as he swallowed. Licking his lips, he stood before her proudly, offering his hand gallantly to assist her up into their conveyance.

"Glutton." Katherine quietly stated as she was handed up. Marcus only grinned indulgently, watching her backside as she ascended, cursing her full skirts and wishing for the breeches she had worn aboard ship.

"Godspeed, Marcus, Katy." Chauncey wished them safe travels, "Take care wi' 'em, Lynwood, I must be off ta havin' coffee w' Anna." Chauncey and Lynwood exchanged a nod, then Chauncey minced off down the road toward shore, eager for his now routine morning coffee date.

"He seems quite chipper these days." Marcus observed wryly, closing the carriage door while taking his seat across from his wife. He remembered arriving, he and Katy both being amused and surprised at Chauncey's new popularity.

"Is it not wonderful, Marcus? Who knew he still had it in him?" Katherine said with some amusement.

"He is not the only one..." Marcus wiggled his brows at his wife as he leaned forward to suggestively caress her inner thigh through her skirts.

Katherine swatted at his hand lightly. "Good Lord, Marcus, you have had that also this morning, can we not even wait until the wheels are in motion?"

"Most probably not, Katy girl, unless you would rather I keep pilfering from the basket." Marcus raised a brow in question.

"Glutton." Katherine reiterated.

" 'Tis what happens when a man is starved for years, Katy. Just as 'Ol Chaunce now wants to see all around him, I, now that I have you, want to see all of you, most all of the time." Switching seats, Marcus joined Katherine, fussing with her dress buttons as the carriage began moving down the road.

Katherine half heartedly brushed at Marcus's hand to no avail, as her bodice opened under his attentions. "Marcus!" Katherine scolded.

"Mm hmm?" Marcus ignored her protests, knowing she would come around to his way of thinking shortly, as his other hand began working it's way under her skirts.

Katherine sighed resignedly, her head dropping to his chest, while she whispered it this time. "Glutton."

"Mm hmm." Marcus agreed wholeheartedly.

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Looking for a clean shirt from his duffel of clothing, Brutus eyed the fine spirits stowed safely in with his things. He looked around the bunkhouse, assuring himself that he was alone, then he looked to the bottle once again. He pushed down the temptation, telling himself 'twas only early morn, that he needed to set a better example than that for his men. Though his wounded heart cried out for the numbing effects he knew the brew would bring, his mind eventually won over, knowing that real peace would not be found at the bottom of a bottle. Growling in frustration, Brutus scrubbed at his scalp, stimulating his senses, instead of grabbing up the spirits and falsely deadening them.

The stubborn maid had managed to elude him the entire weekend long.

Brutus's shoulders slumped dejectedly as he reached for the shirt to clothe them in. Pulling the article of clothing over his head, he worked his arms into the holes, and jerked the shirt down angrily the rest of the way. Grabbing up his comb, he smoothed his straight, ebony locks back, holding the length in hand as he searched for his wayward strip of cord to tie it off with. Finding it on the floor beside his bunk, he bent to retrieve it, smacking his head on the top bunk as he stood up. "Hellfire and damnation!" Brutus let his locks go, to rub at his scalp, scowling at the bunk as if it be it's fault he was injured. Growling in frustration and pain, Brutus snatched his comb up again and repeated the process before moving to put the comb away. Brutus considered the bottle of brandy one last time before tying the duffel closed, thus removing the temptation to indulge in a short snort before he brushed his teeth. I am a blasted captain now, Brutus scowled, I must act accordingly as I will be asking the crew to do the same. It would not do for him to give in and give up what small amount of self control he had managed to retain. If he went to hell, the whole ship, and their goals, would go to hell with him. Scrutinizing himself critically in a glass, he knew it was not him, nor his looks which kept the maid at bay. He knew in his heart it was her own feelings of self worth, and doubt, that caused her to keep her distance. He cursed softly under his breath. as the knowledge did little to assuage Brutus's feelings of frustration at her hindrance of his suit, now made even more difficult with her return to the duke's residence. Needing a distraction from his frustration, he picked up his light coat, shrugging it on as he vacated the bunkhouse to walk over to the manse.

Joining the men for breakfast, Brutus was glad he had not given in to temptation, as the men were eager to be heading into town soon to work on the Wench. Though Brutus wished he could work on the wench Margaret instead, the Saucy Wench would just have to suffice as a distraction today. Joining his men did serve to lift his spirits a small bit, as Brutus joined in their discussion, letting them ply him with the need for hiring additional crew. Brutus knew with her larger size and the additional guns, the Wench would need more hands, and Brutus would have to put himself to the task of hiring additional men soon.

"Good morn, men." Violet entered the dining room, determined to enjoy his crew's company as long as he had them near. Knowing they would set sail in due time, and eventually be gone from him, Vi had risen early, not wanting to miss any opportunity he had to be in their company.

"Morning Capt'n." A few of the men replied. Then, realizing what they had said, the men began chuckling. Brutus smiled Violet's way, both of them knowing that Violet would always be thought of as their captain, regardless of who lead the ship.

"Old habits die hard." Brutus said ruefully to Violet, remembering the King's words from a couple of days before.

"That they do, Brutus, that they do." Violet agreed, before tossing down a mug of brew and snatching up a pastry. Taking a big, fortifying bite, Violet then chewed at it with gusto, while grinning at his best friend.

"And what has you in such good spirits this morn?" Brutus queried, looking askance at Violet, as he wrapped his hands around his own mug.

"All is well in my world, Brutus." Violet admitted happily.

"At least someone is happy." Brutus lamented.

"Oh, come now, Captain," Violet tried teasing Brutus from his doldrums, "you have health, wealth, and a purpose. What more could a man want?" Violet knew what bothered his friend, the same thing he had sulking about for the last few days. However, Violet felt he could not refer to that, as he had just left his own kitten purring beneath their sheets but a few moments before.

Brutus glared at his mug a moment, before turning to face Violet head on. "I have had an idea, and I would put it to the maid, Margaret, if I could only get a moment of her time." Brutus sulked.

"Are you inclined to share this idea of yours?" Violet mumbled curiously around his bite of breakfast.

Brutus grimaced at his friends lack of manners, shaking his head slightly, he refused to answer.

Violet swallowed his bite, taking up a mug of milk, he drank a long drought. Wiping the milk from his upper lip, Violet addressed the issue once more. "Mayhap, I could help?" He offered with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Aye, you could kidnap her and force her to listen to my plan." Brutus's sarcasm relayed his doubt that Vi could help him with his quandary.

"Or... Mayhap, Elizabeth could help?" Violet offered Betsy's assistance, as he knew she would not mind.

"Mayhap, she could at that." Brutus agreed this time, thinking that a woman may help his argument, especially one who had sailed with them before. "Will she be coming down soon?" Brutus asked hopefully.

"Ah, now that, my friend, is the question." Violet rolled his eyes acting as though a woman's bents were beyond him. "Now, if you were to tell me what it is..." Violet wheedled, "I could, mayhap, go and tell her, thus hurrying her along?" Violet tried his best tactic to get Brutus to tell him his idea.

"Nay, I will wait upon her in her own good time." Brutus hoped Elizabeth could help him, as he really knew of no other way to approach the maid with his plan. He already knew Margaret would balk, that was a given, but if Elizabeth told her what an advantage she could be... Brutus felt his spirits lift a bit with hope, uttering a quick prayer, he prayed Elizabeth could be his saving grace.

"What was that?" Violet inquired.

"I was not talkin' to ye." Brutus sipped at his coffee, turning to thank Sadie when she set a platter of wheat cakes on the table in front of them.

"You are most welcome." Sadie replied warmly, giving Brutus a overly interested smile before turning away.

"Huh." Violet watched as Sadie sashayed away, making sure that when she passed Samson, she ignoring him pointedly.

"What?' Brutus asked Violet, as he pulled a cake onto his plate.

"Nothing." Violet smiled to himself before reaching for a cake of his own. Brutus had not even noticed the pretty, young maid flirting with him while serving their meal. It was a good thing too, Violet thought, as Brutus had enough on his plate already, and apparently, it was Samson that the crafty maid was after anyway.

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Betsy entered the dining room amid a chorus of crew wishing her a good morn. Wearing a light green dress with pink piping, she had wound pink ribbons into her curling, dark hair that was tied behind her to trail down her back.

Violet stood from his bench and took in her fresh, innocent loveliness. He had a flashback of her in the drab maid's gowns and his previous wish to see her in brighter colors. Smiling widely, he handed her in to be seated before taking his own seat once more. Violet purposely seated her between himself and Brutus, hoping to hear some of Brutus's plan. Violet was to be terribly disappointed however, as Brutus asked for a moment of her time in privacy, after breaking her fast.

Betsy agreed, while Violet sulked.

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Violet was helping the hands to load milk, cheese and cream into the wagons. The men would deliver it to Violet's contact, a minister in the lower quarters, who would then distribute it among the needy to help fortify their tables.

Brutus and Elizabeth vacated the manse, coming down to join him in the drive.

"Well, are we going to help?" Violet asked.

"He does not give up easily, does he?" Betsy wrinkled her nose Brutus's way, teasing her husband.

"I do not care to know, really." Violet insisted, raising his nose and pretending disinterest.

"Oh good, because I promised Brutus I would not tell you." Betsy teased.

Violet shook his head dejectedly, "What are best friends for anyway?" As he reached to help Samson lift another barrel.

"Knowing when they are not wanted?" Brutus suggested.

Violet glared, while Brutus and Elizabeth showed amusement at his predicament.

Elizabeth went to Violet and attempted to distract him from bothering Brutus any longer. "I am going to town," Violet opened his mouth to offer to join her, yet she placed a finger upon his lips to hush him for the moment. "I need some things for our costumes as you know, and I want to visit with the King before I return. You would only be bored, quite honestly." Betsy softened her words with a light kiss, her lips replacing her finger, which Violet grabbed and held in his hand.

Bringing her finger back to his lips, Violet kissed the digit, then placed her palm against his cheek. "You will try not to be too late?" Violet knew she would be well protected, his men would be with her on her way to town, the King would send her home well guarded also.

"I will try not to be too long, Violet, as I will be leaving my heart behind with you. "Betsy smiled up into his magnificent eyes, as he sighed resolutely, recognizing his own words as she spoke them.

"As my heart goes with you, Elizabeth." Violet kissed her again, then he let her go to prepare herself and gather anything she wanted to take with her. He knew she had a list to fill, as they had decided on their costumes together, he knew a trip to town was necessary.

"Tell Lady Eleanor hello for me." Violet requested.

"I shall." Betsy assured him as she hurried back inside the manse.

"It kills you does it not?" Brutus observed.

"Aye, now that I know, I would keep her beside me always." Violet spoke about the babe, the news having been joyfully shared with Violet's crew.

"I can well understand." Brutus commiserated. "Say a prayer she can help my cause?" Brutus asked hopefully.

"Of course, Brutus, even as you will not tell me what it is." Violet said a bit testily.

"I do not want to get my hopes up, Violet, she is as a wounded bird, and I do not have the time to nurse her back to health before I set sail again." Brutus's frustration was beginning to show a bit again.

"The sparrow." Violet mused.

"What?" Brutus cocked his head, his face questioning.

"You imagined her as a penguin in your dreams, yet, when I first met the maid, I likened her to a sparrow. I did not say aloud that she seemed as a wounded sparrow, yet, she had." Violet remembered those months ago on the island. "Of course, I will pray the Lord's will for you both, my friend. I know how it feels to know you have found the one, yet, to not know how to go about making her your own." Violet grinned with satisfaction, "Luckily, Elizabeth's lady, Arianna, figured it out for me." Violet chuckled at how Lady Arianna would feel about that statement, though it be the truth, he doubted she would appreciate it as much as he did.

"Yes, a wounded sparrow, I see it also." Brutus agreed. Knowing that were the case, he would have to use gentleness and much self control. He vowed to pray for those two things until he had acquired them.

Brutus lent a hand and the loading was finished quickly. Elizabeth joined them, to be handed up into the wagon, after settling into her seat, she waved at Violet until he was well out of her sight.

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Betsy was dropped off at Eleanor's townhouse, Eleanor was staying in town until the masquerade, being escorted to the ball by none other than Betsy's great grandfather, Gabriel.

Betsy was a bit surprised to be allowed entrance, only to find herself escorted to the parlor where Gabriel sat, his cane between his thighs, his hands resting atop it.

"Elizabeth!" Gabriel started guiltily, then remembering his age, he stayed where he was and let Betsy come to him.

"You are nothing, if not tenacious, are you not, grandfather?" Betsy laughed as she bussed his cheek, while he chuckled from his seat, before pressing his lips to her own cheek in return.

"It is best you found out sooner, rather than later, my dear." He looked to the doorway for the umpteenth time, hoping Ellie would make an appearance soon. Having arrived half an hour ago, he had been put in this damned fussy room, and he had been kept waiting in solitude ever since. Mayhap, now that Elizabeth had arrived...

"The Lady Eleanor requests you join her upstairs." Eleanor's butler addressed Betsy, leaving the duke completely out of the equation.

Gabriel huffed in discouragement, "Stubborn wench." He muttered.

Betsy tried to hide her amusement, as she patted his shoulder, before fairly skipping from the room.

Gabriel frowned at his spritely great granddaughter, his nose wrinkling in displeasure, as he heard Elizabeth's amusement chiming forth in the foyer.

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