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Chapter 24

“William, you keep going at that rate, and you’re going to wear a hole in the planks. The Anne’s a good ship, but she can only take so much, man.” Clement looked as though he were hard pressed not to laugh at the display in front of him.

William stopped. “Very amusing. Here I thought I was paying you to pilot a ship, not play the court jester.”

Clem raised an eyebrow. “Now, Will, don’t be tetchy. Women are enough to drive any man a bit over the edge. Especially small, pretty, blonde ones. I prefer mine smooth, sleek, and seaworthy, like this beauty.” He patted the rail with fondness.

William joined him along the railing. “Now that is the truth. Unpredictable they are, you know that, Clem?”

“So what happened?”

William sighed. “I made an error in judgment. I thought I could fix it, keep her from finding out, but I wasn’t quick enough. So now she’s convinced she can’t trust me.”

“Is that all?” Clem snorted. “Will, I’ve seen you walk into many a bar and chat up the lasses, have them ready to follow you to the ends of the earth by the time you’re ready to leave. You’re a silver-tongued devil. I’d have thought you could talk any woman into trusting you.”

“Not her.” William shrugged. “Buffy’s had some experience with silver-tongues that bit her good and proper, so she’s a bit shy. And I knew a bit of that, wasn’t trying to just chat her up, you know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. “I want to make her my bride.”

Clement smiled. “Well any cross-eyed fool could see that, Will. I’ve never seen you moon over a woman before, so I imagine if you’re that taken with her, she must be something else. I reckon you’ll just have to give her time, win her trust back.”

William nodded. “I suppose so. It’s just that sometimes I wonder if we’ll wait too long.” He glanced up at the sky as the choppy waves brought a sharp roll to the deck. “Wind’s picking up, looks like we might have a storm coming in.”

Clem followed his gave to the rapidly moving clouds. “Does look like it might get choppy. I’ll get some extra hands on deck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Edwards had brought plates of food and extra blankets as promised. After a welcomed meal, a bit of rearranging of the piles of hay created beds that were adequate, if not plush. The day’s exertions had taken their toll, and Wesley and Xander settled into the barn near the Sergeant, who’d quietly drifted back to sleep after a few more questions about his wife’s welfare.

“Seems like he does care for her quite a bit,” Xander mused, trying to find a comfortable spot in the hay.

“Indeed. We can feel quite the Cupids I suppose, reuniting them and clearing the way for William and Buffy,” Wesley replied.

Xander rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself, but I’ll pass on the role as a small winged cherub, my friend. I’ll just be happy to get back home. There was a time when this would have been quite comfortable, but I’m afraid feather mattresses have spoiled me.”

“I’ll second that,” Wesley murmured. “Do you think it odd that we never saw Mr. Edwards? I’d have thought he’d come out and greet us at the least.”

“I don’t know if he ever came back. Maybe he’s gone off somewhere else to hunt and she just didn’t want us to know she’s alone.” Xander rolled to his side and gave the pile of hay one last punch as he finally found a comfortable spot. “See you in the morning, Wes.”

“Goodnight, Xander.”

Wesley shifted again, but couldn’t find a position where something wasn’t poking him in a horribly unpleasant manner. He sat up, stifling a groan as he felt something pop in his back. Maybe a short walk would help.

He quietly slipped from the barn and out into the moonlight that bathed the small clearing that comprised the Edwards’s homestead. The night was mostly quiet, with only the occasional chirp and trill that still sounded strange to his ears. He’d have never guessed that he’d be sleeping in the barn outside some backwoods cabin when he’d left London only a month ago. His mother would quite possibly have a fit if she could see her youngest. He smiled at the thought.

A flash of white caught the corner of his eye and he turned to see a pale apparition floating towards him. He stifled a scream as he realized that the ghost was merely a young girl, perhaps thirteen at the most, with pale features and almost white blond hair. Must be another of the Edwards, little Sarah’s older sister perhaps.

He wondered idly how many children they must have. Mrs. Edwards had mentioned them not having much room. Of course it wouldn’t take many to fill that tiny cabin. The ghostly girl drew nearer and glided to a stop a few feet away.

“Are you gentlemen here to take me back?” Her voice was low and broken and she barely raised her head as she asked him the question.

“What? Us? No, no, we’re not here to take you back.” Wesley backed a step away as she raised her dark eyes to his, her face resolute.

“Mistress Glory wishes me to service you here then?” She reached for the edges of the thin cotton sheath and Wesley watched with horror as the child pulled the cloth over her head, revealing a stomach several months along.

He caught the gown and held it back to her, eyes averted as a lantern cut through the gloom of the night and a man’s voice barked, “Tabitha, what you doing out there, girl?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy watched the door with trepidation. He was going to come back. She knew that. His eyes had grown large when she’d announced her lack of trust for him, and her need for him to give her time. He’d started to protest, but she’d refused to listen. And then he’d risen to his feet and left the room.

Leaving her alone. Which of course was what she’d requested of him. But the problem was that now she was lonely, with nothing to do but think. A tiny part of her wished that he’d stayed, protested his love for her, swept her off her feet. Literally.

She shook her head. She really must stop reading those sorts of novels.

She could always go and talk with Willow and Tara. But although she didn’t doubt their good intentions, she still felt slightly miffed at their chicanery in luring her to the ship. No. Best keep to herself for now.

She wandered the cabin, sparsely furnished with the essentials and little else until she came to his trunk. It was unlocked, half thrown open. She reached for one of the shirts that lay exposed and admired the softness of the fabric. Buffy couldn’t resist the urge to pick up the cloth and inhale the scent that was uniquely him. It made her body flush, remembering the way he’d held her that night, her face buried against his neck, soaking up his essence.

She hoped he’d stay away almost as much as she hoped he’d come back.

The cabin was growing dark as she made her way back to the bunk, pushing aside the pillows and blankets that had been piled beneath the covers so that she could slump dejectedly in their place. She pulled out the small watch tucked in the pocket of her jacket and glanced at the dial, but couldn’t quite make out the hands. It must be growing late.

She considered for a moment lighting the lamp that sat on the table, but realized it wasn’t worth the effort. She was tired. The day had started early, and she’d never expected it to end this way, somewhere afloat in the Atlantic, lying in William’s bed. She hoped he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable wherever he’d been forced to bunk. She felt the slightest twinge of guilt at uprooting him from his cabin; after all, it wasn’t his fault that she was here. But not quite enough to leave.

Buffy started to slide beneath the blankets, but considered the state of her dress. She was rumpled enough already and she’d not have a change until they reached Charleston. She stood and crossed to the door, firmly turning the lock before she began rapidly unlacing the fastenings. She slid the layers of fabric over her head, straightening the wrinkles as best she could as she carefully laid out the garment over a chair.

The corset was next and she breathed a sigh at its removal, laying it discreetly under the folds of the dress. Her boots unlaced, she was finally comfortable enough to sink down unto the mattress and lose herself in sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley was sure that he would awake at any moment from the ludicrous dream he was having, in which he was holding the shift of a pregnant child somewhere in the backwoods of South Carolina.

He opened his eyes to the bright glare of the lantern. Right. Not a dream, then.

He shielded his eyes and continued to proffer the gown back to the girl, who seemed in her own trance-like state.

Xander appeared at the edge of the clearing as the man behind the lantern grabbed the girl and pulled her behind him.

“What’s going on here?” Xander demanded.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” the man demanded, spitting emphatically as though to underline his point. “Now I told ‘im, if I take these girls, I don’t want no one coming up here and botherin’ them no more. We’re gonna raise’m up right, as God in Heaven intended.”

The girl had slid the garment back over her head and now stood behind the man, a near wraith-like shadow aside from her bulging belly. She watched them with frightened, distant eyes.

Xander stepped closer to the light. “Sir? I assume you’re Mr. Edwards? Your wife allowed us to shelter here in your barn for the night, so that we could make a fresh start to return our friend, Sergeant Finn, to the city. We mean no harm to the girl.”

The man regarded him squarely before lowering the lamp slightly. “Tabitha, get on back in the house now, girl. You need to get your rest.” His tone was gentle and she turned and retraced her steps as requested.

After she was out of earshot, he turned back. “I’m Elijah Edwards. You’re Mr. Harris, and Mr. Pryce?”

“Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, actually,” Wesley broke in, but stopped at a look from Xander.

“Wyndham-Pryce. Quite a mouthful there. My wife told me you was here. She thought you seemed good folks, coming way up here to find the Sergeant for his wife. I just got a trifle concerned when I seen the front door open and Tabitha gone.”

He sighed as he directed the lantern towards Wesley. “I’m sorry if I startled you, son. Tabitha’s got a habit of sleepwalking that’s nigh on impossible to break her of, and it’s getting worse as it gets to be her time. Didn’t mean be to so tetchy.”

Wesley nodded. “I apologize as well, what you saw . . . I must assure you that I did not try to take advantage of Miss Tabitha.”

Elijah shrugged off his apology. “I saw you trying to hand her clothes back. I reckon most men wouldn’t be so polite like about it. Well, sorry for the disturbance, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

Elijah gave a curt nod and started back towards the house. Xander shook his head and turned towards the barn. Wesley stood frozen. Something, something the girl had said . . . Glory. Wasn’t Glory the lady of the night that had threatened the ward William had taken in?

“Sir? Mr. Edwards? Could I ask you one more question? Why did Tabitha ask me if Miss Glory wished her to . . . er, service me? Who is Miss Glory? And who brought that child here after doing that to her?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

William seized the rope and hung on for dear life as another enormous wave washed over the deck, tilting the Anne dangerously starboard. He yelled commands into the wind as the ship’s mates raced to fight the effects of the storm and keep the ship from keeling under the forces of the wind and water.

By the time the worst of the storm had passed in the early hours of the morning, he was soaked to the bone and chilled to the marrow, but exhilarated at the battle with the elements. He’d missed this, the tug of war that was part and parcel of riding the sea, the teamwork of the crew pulling together like a well-oiled machine at his command.

“I think we’re through the worst, just rain from here on, judging by those clouds. Winds have slowed a good bit.” Clem appeared by his side. “I’m putting on the night watch, sending the rest below to dry off, sleep a bit before morning, if that’s alright with you.”

William nodded and clapped Clem on the back. “Tell them they did well, that was a hell of a storm and the Anne came through with only minor damage. Give an extra pint round, too.” He started towards the causeway to the captain’s quarters. “I’m going to change into something dry, call me if the weather picks back up.”

He reached the door and turned the handle, jolted as he realized it was locked. Buffy. He’d thought she might have joined the other women, but apparently she was still holed up in his cabin.

He considered for a half second walking away. Then with a slow smile he slid the key to the cabin from his pocket and unlocked the door. He wasn’t walking away anymore.





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