A | B | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14A | 14B | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30A | 30B | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41A | 41B | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45A | 45B | 46A | 46B | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56A | 56B | 57 | 58A | 58B | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62A | 63 | 64A | 64B | 65 | 66 | 67
PART III
MAY, 1780
MAYFAIR
LONDON, ENGLAND
CELIA AWOKE IN the most comfortable bed in her recent remembrance. It was dark. Mélisande Gables was still. Elliott was asleep, his breathing shallow and even, Celia curled up with her back to his ribs.
She had never felt so small before, between Elliott’s large, strong body and her thin, weak one. Her muscles ached from the swordfight, which memory shamed her. She had not performed so poorly since she was ten and two, though Elliott had assured her he had been challenged. Her wound stung a bit as well, but she welcomed the pain.
Thanks to Elliott’s valet, she had awakened without hunger for the first time in weeks, food not her first thought upon opening her eyes.
With Papadakos stationed somewhere in the servants’ quarters alongside Old Ben, she felt secure here in ways she didn’t anywhere else in London. Elliott’s women were, in the crew’s eyes, a mild annoyance, but she was a commander and as such, an honored, respected guest.
Which meant she could finally succumb to the fatigue that had been wearing at her since they had arrived at Rathbone House. It was the first true respite she had had in weeks, yet she could not sleep.
I have a solution to your problem, but I cannot implement it until you are returned to me, assuming it is not too late. You must have no congress of any sort with anyone. Do not touch yourself to completion, or even arousal. Find someone with enough skill to assist you should you be laid low as you were in Oranjestad.
What nincompoopery was this? What solution could Solomon possibly have that would require such? She could not even bring her own release? And never mind it was too late, as she had had congress with two men in these past weeks and made regular use of her fingers.
She sighed.
Celia’s entire bloody crew knew her body was defective beyond repair, so the mention of a solution in Solomon’s missive had taken her aback. No one had ever posited such a thing to her.
But if he had one, why had he not informed her of it before she left Rotterdam? In fact, why had he not informed her of such a solution at any moment after her last illness?
Celia scoffed at herself. That was a ridiculous question.
Dr. al Ibrahim explained nothing until pressed; he simply gave orders to her and the other women on the ship. She had many times gritted her teeth at his insistence on treating her—all of them—like concubines or common harem slaves who were subject to a sultan and not free to protest or question anything.
Celia worried it in her mind. She could deduce why fucking was verboten, but she could not begin to fathom his order prohibiting any orgasm at all.
And that could not be the end of it. If the solution was tonic in nature, he would have sent a receipt. Thus, it would mean his physicking upon her person.
She hated that.
No matter. It would be two or three weeks before they made Rotterdam, by which time, Celia could expect again to be bedridden for a week.
She gasped and began to count on her fingers. “God’s bones,” she whispered when she realized how quickly she must get to Solomon to either solve the problem or take care of her after the problem solved itself.
Elliott’s sleepy voice pierced the silence. “Celia?”
“I received a missive from Solomon today,” she blurted, turning to lie on her other side and face Elliott. “I must be in Rotterdam in a fortnight at the very latest.”
“Why?” he drawled, suspicion heavy in his voice.
“A … womanly malady. Solomon must tend me.”
“Ah. Can we simply not delay our departure by that period of time? Or fetch Solomon here?”
“Nay, and I will answer no more questions. This is not negotiable.”
Elliott’s body was tense and the hand with which he had cupped her arse cheek tightened a bit. The silence lengthened until he said low, “Is this … womanly malady … one of your concerns for going into the frontier with me?”
“Aye.” She took a deep breath. “Solomon says he has a solution. ’Tis why I must return quickly.”
Celia breathed a sigh of relief when Elliott’s fingers began kneading her arse, knowing he had accepted the situation on her word, even if he did not appreciate having it left unexplained.
“I have something for you,” he murmured abruptly. A gift. Elliott had gotten her a gift? “Release me, Madam, so I can fetch it for you.”
With that, he rolled out of bed and struck a flint to light a candle. She sat up cross-legged and watched as he went about his chamber lighting lamps and chandeliers until the room was quite bright. His bare body was possibly the most beautiful thing Celia had ever seen, his arse and leg muscles, his back and shoulders and arms flexing with every movement. He was liquid grace, with that rolling seaman’s gait so natural to both of them.
She watched as he opened a chest and rummaged in it a bit before muttering, “Ah ha.”
He pulled out a large glass vial, the length of a collapsed spyglass and twice again as round, with a cork stopper. Then he hefted a rather large black velvet bag in his palm. He straightened to his full height (leaving the chest open and its contents askew, she noticed) and returned to the bed.
“These were found in the figurehead,” he murmured when he offered it to her.
Celia gasped and looked up at him. “The deeds.”
He inclined his head. “And jewels. His last will and testament, as well.”
“You read Spanish?”
“My French is such I could grasp the essence.”
She took the vial gingerly and unstopped it whilst he dropped the velvet purse on the bedside table with a heavy thunk. He stretched out on the bed next to her and propped his head on his hand. The rolled parchments slid out with a gentle tug. The deeds—and there were many—were not sealed, nor was the will.
She read the will, dated four years before, when Rafael had commissioned the figurehead, and realized that though he had not lied about his lack of currency, he had lied about his reasons for leaving his every last possession to her.
Rafael loved her.
It was as simple and complex as that.
Here, in her hand, she held, at once, the evidence of two men’s love for her. Her vast resources around the world testified of the third man to love her. Surely only God must know what she’d done to deserve a whit of it.
She looked up at him, tears fogging her vision. “Why didn’t you destroy these?”
“Celia,” Elliott said low. “I have no liking for the man and I covet you desperately, but he is not a monster. Nor am I. I couldn’t fathom why you’ve held onto him, but then I found these and … I could begin to comprehend.”
“I didn’t even know about them until he had signed the marriage contract with Nathan, when he learned he would have to go to Spain. There is … a condition attached.”
His eyebrow rose. “Oh? I saw no conditions.”
“Nay, ’twas one he may not expect me to keep, a matter of honor.” Elliott said nothing and Celia took a deep breath. “Should he not return, should his family succeed in killing him for … ” She waved the deeds. “ … this, I am to go and lay waste to his line, perhaps tend to his tenants, settle them with sustenance and lodging if he has not finished doing so, and let the entailed properties revert to Spain.”
Elliott bowed his head while he listened to her explanation of Rafael’s family, his life, his earldom and what he had done for so many years to care for his people. She waited for an untoward reaction when she finished, but he only nodded. “Aye. ’Tis a good request and a good lord to care for his tenants. I may have done the same were my family bent on my assassination, and I am not ashamed to admit that, under other circumstances, I would have felt privileged to count him a friend.” That did not surprise her. “What is the probability of his family’s victory over him?”
Celia calculated silently. She had not thought of it so mathematically, as there were too many human variables. “Perhaps … one in five,” she finally said. “Rafael is like a cat, always landing on his feet. I’m quite sure he has a full half of his nine lives left to spend.”
“Damn,” Elliott said wryly and Celia chuckled.
“Do you see now why I am so torn?”
“Aye,” he sighed. “The man loves you and wants to hold onto you any way he can. I would do the same, so how can I begrudge him that? But I do begrudge him that and that is my jealousy.” He rubbed his mouth and looked off into the distance. “What must I do, Celia?” he asked quietly. “What must I do to win you from him? Tell me and I will do it. If— If I must, I will give up— We can go—”
She pressed her fingers to his mouth, unable to bear the pain in his voice any longer. “Elliott, no,” she said. “Do not say such things. Here is the truth of it: You won me when you said if you could never fuck me again, you would still be happy if I were near. This venture of yours— It terrifies me, but I had decided to go with you ere we left the Dovecote that night.”
He stared at her, aghast.
Celia quivered with fear, but made her vow in spite of it: “Whither thou goest, I will go,” she whispered. “Whither thou lodgest, I will lodge.”
He nigh collapsed against her, his arm winding ’round her waist and his mouth pressing against her thigh. “My God, Celia,” he croaked. “My God.”
She ran her fingers through his long, silky hair and chuckled wryly. “My mother will thrash me upon learning I did not even attempt to negotiate as she bade me.”
He barked a shaky laugh and turned his head to rest upon Celia’s thigh.
“Do not take your relief too soon, my love. I have conditions.”
“Name them,” he breathed.
“Firstly, I must return these deeds to Rafael and bid him adieu. He will make a nuisance of himself, and when he does, you will refrain from killing him. Nor will you maim him, torture him, or set him adrift. In short, do him no harm.”
Elliott took a deep, frustrated breath and ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. “May I at least insult him, Madam?” he asked snidely.
She pretended to think about that. “No. Next, I demand your fidelity.”
He snorted. “And I yours.”
“Of course. Now, about the venture itself: I am used to ports and towns and cities, having goods and services available no matter how primitive, and ’twould be to our benefit to travel with people of different skills to create a town and then stake our plot a small distance away, say, a half day’s wagon ride.”
“’Tis not how it’s done.”
“I care naught for how things are done. Have I not made that clear? Between us,” she continued, “we have the means to finance such a venture. I have the means to finance such a venture, never mind your resources. Quite a few of my crew would find it to their advantage to go with us. Surely amongst your men there would be a blacksmith or two. A budding merchant. Cartwright. Gunsmith. Baker. Ostler.” She laughed. “Tavernkeeper. Every town needs a tavern.”
He turned his head and once again kissed her thigh. “You seem to plan things out overmuch for someone who lives her life with whimsy filling her sails.”
She curled into him to press her mouth to his cheek. “If you had spoken much longer of this magical place called Ohio,” she whispered, “I would have agreed on the spot. For a certes, if you had said it snows there, I would have.”
He groaned. “I will yield to you in these matters, Madam. Even if I wanted to try, I cannot find fault with your reasoning, and clearly you have given it more thought than I.”
“There is one more thing. Do not press me for children.”
Elliott said nothing, but his hand curled into her side. “That … is a difficulty for me, I will admit,” he finally muttered. “Many hands are needed on a farm and, like everything else, farmers grow their own. Men long for immortality through their children and I have too often seen the end of my mortality not to long for it myself.”
Celia could barely keep her own sorrow from seeping through the cracks in her soul. “We can go to Fleet and buy debt,” she murmured. “Or gather urchins at the wharves.” She cleared her throat. “But you will not have your immortality from my womb, and do not think to get it from someone else’s.”
Silence. Celia’s spine began to tingle and her stomach churn as it stretched. Her eyes filled with tears and she slowly let his hair slip away from her fingers. She could do nothing to change this circumstance, so if he did not—
“Agreed.”
Her relief was so great she choked.
“Tell me you love me,” he rasped.
“Elliott!” she cried. “I do! I would never do such a thing for Rafael. I am not even sure I would have done it for Talaat. But for you … ”
His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed at her. “Why me?” he demanded.
“Oh, my love, no man has gone to such effort to get my attention. Rafael has never shown an interest in keeping my attention until he met you and realized how horribly he had squandered my love and loyalty. Talaat was in love with me for years before he would even allow Smitty to introduce us, he so feared my rejection. But you— I was giddy when Kit told me you were behind us and I could hardly wait for you to come to me and then you did and … Oh, I was as bad as George over Kit, though I had the good sense not to display it. And then … ” Elliott tightened his hold on her, and she reveled in this moment, in his touch, this demonstration of his need to have her. She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, “And then you promised me snow.”
“I did. I do.”
“I assure you, Sir. Snow is no whimsy. If ’twere, I would have pursued it myself long ago.”
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
Pirates!
Surely only God must know what she’d done to deserve a whit of it.
Oof, that hits far too close to home.
“There is Apple for those who don’t value their money.”
“There is Linux for those who don’t value their time.”
“There is Google for those who don’t value their privacy.”
And then there’s Windows…for those who don’t value all three😂
Microsoft Reacts to the Googlebook
I had no idea who this is and figured it was going to be crap. Instead it’s accurate and brilliant.
That’s silly. Apple takes more time than Linux, mostly fighting their idiot-proofing to get basic things done.
/career unix admin
/career unix admin
Might just imply a little bit of nerd bias.
I don’t like the sound of that.
Sounds better than Windows 11.
Sensei:
Did you never see the Microsoft ad back at the turn of the century? Security of CE, stability of ME, usability of NT, Microsoft introduces, Windows CEMENT.
There are landlines and USPS for old people.
I think there is a lot to be said for being technologically regressive.
“Microsoft 365 Copilot App (formerly Office)”
🤣😂
I had to look that up to be sure they weren’t punk’ing me – it’s real.
Yes, it’s pretty spot on.
Work is 100% Microsoft but I ditched it at home.
Plus the Epstein jokes!
I saw one extremely brief snap lol
That was spot on.
“Celia curled up with her back to his ribs.” *cuddle-swoon*
As an outsider, their level of honesty kinda makes me trust them *less.* Her goal-focus would put me off, relegating Me to insignificance. He took it remarkably well. (Resources help that process, true.) (Yes, this is Ev Reader talking, on all that.)
“But you will not have your immortality from my womb…” Just got off the phone with MN Munch and, oddly, that line kinda hit me in a strangely positive way. Pretty much just imagining our understood, mutual, agreement to that. We just were sharing our goings-on and of our quests for Stateside independence. (I’d say probability of us actually sealing the roommate pact is, a pretty honest 50/50.)
From a writer’s perspective this is interesting. Can you expound?
Okay: Well, I’m me and I’m not madly in love with (say) Celia, so let’s say I’m courting her. We’re in the Honesty Stage, ‘revealing’ personal goals, faults, and all that lovely icky stuff ya only share with the elevated few. Building the Trust Pyramid, and each equally exchanged bits of True Self help build the smaller, more important, tiers on the way to that apex keystone we’ll call “twoo love,” sans sarcasm.
If I’m w someone that honest about their goals, with such determination, I’d absolutely feel insignificant by comparison. (Again, I’m not (yet) madly in love with the damsel.) If she’s so dead fast in her destination, I’d warily worry she’s saying such things to influence me in her favor. (‘Help me or I’ll just go without you.’) She’s saying she absolutely doesn’t *need* him to accomplish such, but adds how it would ‘naturally it’d help you and your folk, as well,’ (attempting?) to sweeten the deal, make the pill go down.
I’d have to check my ‘Getting Used?’ barometer to assuage myself. (Double, triple check, ‘mold it to my hand so it’s never out of sight’ check.) This reveals a few things about me, I s’pose. I’d say an underlying ‘trust’ issue, but I feel remarkably trusting, so *shrug.* Perhaps more, I’ve never had a relationship get close to marriage, and even the long-term ones (both four years, ‘had an apt with each’ level) weren’t ‘stressful’ enough financial, professional, children /marriage) for us to to really ever have any conversations that detailed how our intertwined lives would forever be altered as a result of said conversations.
(We certainly had the Baby talk, but both me and all the girls I’ve been in actual relationships with *never* wanted kids, either. (They still don’t have any, the biggest two, nor the most recent, and least important third.) So pretty much it was a Pill conversation so we trusted another not to risk it. But that’s as far as I’ve gone.)
Relationship-ignorant, naive Ev, along with Reader Ev, gets uncomfortable (as a casual fly watching them) about those talks cuz big-consequence Chess is being played, and such open honesty could lull a person to possible lies, exaggerations and untruths that could be mixed along with verifiable and sincere ones.
Tricky, trust. I’m quite sure I understand it, but I haven’t had recent opportunity to *have* it outside of family. MN Munch has mine, but I also floated her (for us) significant $ to help her between jobs. That’s very akin to financing a piratical quest to found a city, no? (Actually. With wayward hopes of her and I teaming up in America, both oddball Yankees in King Arthur’s Court, it’s not the craziest comparison.)
Were I Elliot, I’d (want to?) feel like shit. Were I watching the two, I’d be ‘concerned’ one or both were fucking the other over, perhaps both double-bluffing the other. So, it’s much more fun for Reader Ev than ‘Actual Ev reacting in Elliot’s place.’
Dammit, ev. That wall’s what I get when I start a thought, change channel, then come back and add/edit. (Repeatedly.)
I think we may have a fundamental story misunderstanding here. ELLIOTT is the one with the single-minded goal, and Celia is like, “You want me to WHAT?!” and she has to think about it. She ALSO pointed out to Elliott that he WOULD go do this without her because his interest in his land is more than his interest in Celia, and now she presents him a competing interest.
She has no goals. She just kinda does this or that or some other thing. What she’s terrified of is starving to death in the wilderness and she wants him to make more firm plans that will overcome her fear. However, what she’s telling him here is that she’d already decided to go with him, but she’s still going to make him guarantee he won’t let her starve.
You’re assuredly correct, cuz I’m confused. Biggest issue for me is the serial, keeping memory in order. But confusion here:
===
“Of course. Now, about the venture itself: I am used to ports and towns and cities, having goods and services available no matter how primitive, and ’twould be to our benefit to travel with people of different skills to create a town and then stake our plot a small distance away, say, a half day’s wagon ride.”
“’Tis not how it’s done.”
“I care naught for how things are done. Have I not made that clear? Between us,” SHE continued…”
===
Am I flipping who’s speaking? She’s creating the town and staking a plot. I rechecked it, and the he/her back and forth tracks.
It’s HIS goal, but he hasn’t gotten over his joy at having decided to go for it long enough to plan that far ahead. To him, there are too many steps to clear his path. Celia doesn’t have to worry about that, so, being deathly afraid of starving, says, “Yeah, but hey, look, if you want me to do this with you, this is what I’m gonna need.”
Gotcha. I feel vindicated not trusting those two. Fear fucking exuberance sounds hot. Bad idea, hot, but hot.
https://x.com/dashytwo/status/2057890682920894878
Wow.
What is everyone going to do with their $1?
I think someone was trolling…
Oh, how I laughed:
***
“The Sun Is An Eldritch Abomination”
– Was here long before humanity was, will probably be here long after humanity dies
– Will strike you blind if you look directly at it
– Exposure to it is the basis of 99.99% of all life on Earth, but too much exposure warps and degrades your flesh (skin cancer)
– Is constantly emitting a sound loud enough to render you deaf, and our only protection is literally millions of miles of empty void to block the sound
– Was literally worshipped by multiple human cultures, some of whom sacrificed people to it
***
Sun God religions are by far the most sensible. Would worship. (Well. Under duress, I s’pose. I forgot I kinda have a thing with Luna.
Don’t tell her.))
ST:VOY is showing the ep where they’re hounded by a species of anti-telepaths.
I’m on their side. Telepathy is an evil that should be rooted out wherever it is found. In the real world the Vulcans would be ruling the galaxy with an iron fist and the rest of us would be their bitch.
So… what season of Babylon 5 did you get to? 🙂
2? 3?
If Pluto showed it I’d probably keep up. I am too lazy to fuck around with discs.
The one with telepathy.
And I bitched about that episode when it came up too. Chekov was in it IIRC.
I’m told it’s on Roku
Oh yeah I just added the Roku Channel to my “smart” TV. I will look there, I haven’t been on that in a while.
I know nothing of this show. That seems a shame, reading up on it: “Some of the staples of television science fiction were also out of the question (the show would have “no kids or cute robots.”
Ha! Fun synchronicity with Seinfeld’s “No hugging; no learning” stance.
Goddammit. Now I want a cute robot doll of Elaine as a sci-fi alien, and/or her as some human space traveler. I wanna break both those rules. Make a cute robot of Elaine and she’ll learn to love all of me. Sounds fair. *Patiently waits*
Evan:
i highly recommend it. At least the first four seasons and the final episode.
+1 Psi Corps
Still a good story, but……………………..Ohio?
Hey now!
@RealDonaldTrump just dropped a vid of him dumping Colbert in a dumpster and doing his goofy dance in celebration.
I laughed just as much as I should’ve. Worth your evening wind-down time.
YouTube offered up modern water slides/aquatic park videos. Oh, fuck no. I’ll take my suicide booth neat please.