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PART IV
JANUARY, 1781
ORANJESTAD, SINT EUSTATIUS
CARIBBEAN
She went on to tell him of their journey, which description was several pages long. Elliott absorbed every detail as if she would appear if he concentrated hard enough.
Covarrubias had not been able to lead all of his villagers out before being caught and forced to flee before his brothers killed him. He had left the strongest behind to await his return with his condesa, a woman who would not tolerate their mistreatment and could protect them from the rest of the Covarrubias family. However, even the strongest amongst them were still weak and starving, and though Celia’s words were clumsy, Elliott could feel her horror at their squalor. She had first relieved their gaolers of their souls, then laden the villeins with gold before sending them with Papadakos on a barge upriver to join the ones Covarrubias had already managed to free by himself.
Elliott laughed at her retelling of her attempts at riding horseback and her crew’s growing impatience with her, then sobered as he continued to read.
I must advise you that I will grieve Rafael as I grieve Talaat. I am come to believe it is my Nature to grieve those Things I lose for which I have held so much Love. I will attempt not to Burden you with these Things in the future. But, Elliott, please do not begrudge me this. I know you must be Furious with me for abandoning you, and so I plead Forgiveness. It was not Well Done of me.
“Oh, Celia,” he whispered. “I am not angry with you. How could you think it?” Because you were angry with her for not being at your side when you awoke in Amsterdam. Because you accused her of shopping instead of tending to you. Because she had to be taken to the university to lose your child without losing her life.
As you know, We have one more Mission before I can rejoin the privateer Fleet, and Papa has an Idea that may see us in and out of Algiers quickly and without a Battle. But I must as yet pretend to be British and wear this accursed Uniform. However did you bear this woolen Torture all those years?
That made Elliott smile a bit.
I would tell you I plan to breach Gibraltar in a Fortnight, but thus far, each Task has taken Four times longer than I expected, and so I dare not give you an Estimate. Indeed, I had planned to spend no more than a Sennight disposing of the Slop that was Rafael’s Family, but then was obliged to make for Madrid.
There was little more before she closed.
I am,
as always,
your loving Wife,
Celia
Here there was a bit of a gap between letters, which she explained in her next straight off.
28th November 1780
My Dearest Elliott,
We are in Algiers an entire three Weeks behind Schedule (naturally). As we have presented ourselves as HMN, we have been obliged to patrol and engage in Battle so as not to raise Suspicion. In the Meantime, Papa’s men are in Algiers to learn the Whereabouts of Solomon’s Wife. I truly do not like this Manner of Seafaring and I cannot fathom how you bore it so many Years, and you are truly a Saint for doing so. I will burn this damned Uniform when I am no longer obliged to wear it, and then I will burn every HMN ship I encounter so as to release all those poor Souls from their Hell. I am all that is Merciful.
I am also,
as always,
your loving Wife,
Celia
And finally, the last letter in the box. Elliott handled it gently, resentful that his time with his wife—his wife!—was coming to an end far sooner than he wanted.
30th November 1780
My Dearest Elliott,
I am obliged to write this Letter in a Rush. I bear the most shocking News. I have found my Cousin, Lady Sarah Munro!
Elliott’s jaw dropped and he stared at the letter, unable to make sense of it. After a few moments, when he had collected his wits, he continued.
More Shocking is the Fact that she is Solomon’s Wife! Do you believe it? I am still nigh Speechless. And there is yet More!
Elliott read with amazement at her tale, and winced when she described the woman’s infirmities, wondering what Rathbone would make of that when he found out.
He stopped reading. When he found out?
With a sinking feeling, Elliott skimmed the bare facts of how Sarah came to be wed to the physician until he found the words he knew would be there.
I return to England, as Suniyya (that is the Name she was given upon her Capture) so very badly wants to see her Papa. She will not be Amenable to the Care she needs does this Desire go unfulfilled. As you know, I will be risking my own Capture to do this, and I am not Confident I can avoid it, as Rathbone is Wily and needs Me to vindicate his Career. Yet I will even withhold her from him if that happens. And so I ask this Boon, although I know You are furious with me
Elliott groaned.
(with every Right to be, I ken):
“Celia, no.”
My Crew is instructed to flee England if I am captured, and to find Maarten. If you have not heard from me or had Word of me by July, please find Smitty or Maarten and ask him to retrieve me. Do not, under any Circumstances, attempt this Yourself, if you are so inclined.
He wanted to go after her at this very moment, but his entire family was at stake. He had to trust that she could manage on her own as she had been doing long before he crawled in her stern windows.
What he regretted was being unable to allay her fears that he was angry with her, after he had slain Covarrubias.
He saw no help for it but to accede her wishes and continue upon his path. He had no other, for a certes, now that his suppliers had been decimated by the hurricanes and he with little knowledge of where to find new ones. Too, the British lines had tightened up and down the seaboard, and where a sloop o’ war could slip through, a man o’ war could not. Lastly, now he knew Celia’s whereabouts and a date by when he could expect her, he could continue with his plan to simply help the Yanks win against the British.
Now he must seek out Mary and Dunham. It was true, sadly enough, that he did not know his wife well enough to know what, aside from the babes, she might be keeping from him, but he did know her well enough to know that she was keeping something from him other than that.
It was eight and a half bells when he emerged from his cabin, and the sun had risen forty-five minutes ago. There was Dunham, on deck, speaking with one of his men, and Mary seated at a secretary on the quarterdeck, writing. She looked up and smiled when he bid them good morning across the gap.
“All is well?”
He spread his hands. “So far as she says. I trust you are willing to spill her secrets?”
Dunham shrugged. “’Tis the worst-kept secret in the world, then.”
“And yet, I, her husband, do not know it,” Elliott returned blithely, though he suddenly found himself seething with resentment.
“Come,” Mary said briskly as she packed up her writing implements. “Break your fast with us.”
Elliott sat at the small round table in Dunham’s relatively spacious cabin, eating and listening quietly as Mary relayed the argument and new obligation that had sent Celia back to England. When she was finished, he was no closer to understanding his wife’s reasoning than he was before, and said as much.
“What have Solomon and Orlando to do with her having a child?” He gestured vaguely at his father-in-law. “Did you not tell me she cannot carry through to fruition? Was I that drunk that I so badly misunderstood?”
“Nay,” Dunham rumbled. “What I did not know then was that Solomon has found a way to keep the babe confined in her womb, through stitchery or some such advanced physicking.”
Elliott could only manage to stare at the man.
“That is why she went into Amsterdam,” Mary said gently. Elliott’s attention whipped to her, and he grew more numb throughout the tale of Celia’s haste to make the city, and when, exactly, Celia had lost his child. “She confessed all to me before we left Algiers,” Mary finished. “She did not want to raise your—and my—hopes only for them to be dashed.” She took Elliott’s hand in both of hers. “There is one other thing I believe you must know.”
“Mary,” Dunham drawled warningly. “Do not state your opinion as if ’tis fact. You do not know.”
She ignored Dunham but would not look Elliott in the eye. “I believe,” she said, only then casting a glance at her husband, “that Celia never truly wanted to have Rafael’s child. He would have used it as an excuse to bind her to him after she had found she did not care to be bound. Furthermore, she went to great lengths to rid herself of Rafael’s first one.”
Elliott could not seem to move or think.
“I sailed with her for four years and I never knew about any of them; she was enceinte with his fourth in that time, and I did not know. So, then. What I believe is that she did not attempt to—” Here she searched for a word. “—mitigate her condition enough to succeed in delivering. Whereas, she sent a message to Solomon the moment she confirmed she was enceinte with your babe to ask his advice.”
“Do you mean to say,” he finally croaked when the full enormity soaked through his thick skull, “that she has done this for me? This plotting and, and physicking? Made this bargain that requires she return to England?”
“I cannot say for a surety. I do not know if she has ever wanted children for her own sake or how she might think of herself as a mother. God knows, the Thunderstorm’s boys and girls think of her thusly, and Kit is particularly attached to her, but I am not sure she is aware of this.”
“What do you believe, then?” Elliott demanded desperately.
“I believe,” Mary began, her throat bobbing.
“Aye,” Dunham rumbled. “She’s doing it for you.” Elliott’s head snapped to his father-in-law, who shrugged. “I’ve watched her with the men she’s loved, Raxham. She had no future with Covarrubias. She always knew that, even when she dreamed of wedding him. Khersis was warned his life would be forfeit if he took her to wife, but did it anyway because he wanted to die a happy man.”
Elliott’s mouth dropped open.
“She doesn’t know about that,” Dunham hastened to add, “or she would have left him and gone back to Skirrow. I can’t think she’s so oblivious she’d not felt something off, him acting like a dead man walking. But you— You’ve given her the hope of a future and a home, free and clear, which is the only thing she’s ever wanted. Likely she sees attempting to give you a son as a fair trade.”
“I told her I did not expect— That we could foster—”
“Jack knows men, and what she knows—what you were certain to remind me of—is that every man wants his immortality, and he does not get it without sons of his own.” Elliott felt the world shift under him, and Dunham cocked an eyebrow at him before taking a sip of coffee. “You and I both have difficulties with that, don’t we, Lord Tavendish?”
Elliott’s jaw clenched, for he understood Dunham’s point all too well. “Aye,” he said low, “we do, Laird Dunham.”
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
Pirates!
There ya are! I missed ya last time with your I Am God posts. Big, BIg BIG congrats on your literary shout-out! I (and you!) particularly liked this bit from Julie Weight: “She makes them real, however and wherever she presents them. And because of that, she also agonizes over their lives – to the point where sometimes it seems like she forgets that she’s the one in charge of their lives! All of this familiarity and love for these people comes out in the writing and the story. Because she believes in them, you will start to believe in them. She writes the characters and the stories so well that you, the reader, will become wrapped up in their lives and care deeply about what is going to happen to them.”
Apologies to her, but Weight is a name I’d likely wanna lose. Like a lot of it. Unhelpful bit: I’m def underweight, this week. (Can’t really get used to 30min lunches, cuz a mid-day smoke is an important ritual.) I just got pizza for the World Series, and some important and good work news (more on that later, likely), I may eat all of the small instead of half, like normal. I also got Mellow Mushroom’s “beer cheese” dip. It’s damn, damn good. (BBQ chicken w bacon. It’s delicious.)
Strange how those who believe in imperishable souls should still think in terms of blood immortality.
I think they’re two different functions.
Firstly, one can think a thing but feel some other kinda way about it.
Secondly, a lot of people just don’t want to have been here with nothing to show for it.
Thirdly, that’s heaven and this is Earth, and for all we know, heaven doesn’t exist.
Our genetic demands care not about our delusions of immortality, one way or the other.
That of course doesn’t stop us from making up a good story about it all.
Meh? Different mental realms for flesh and spirit. In our own way, ‘understanding’ biological legacy, it kinda makes sense?
/dedthread: “Some years later, I was in martial arts. I found out I cannot throw a punch with any grace or power at all. My shoulder/arm just rotates some weird way that takes the power out of it. I’m not a doctor although I play one when I’m typing, but seems to me God said, “Let’s sacrifice a punch for a curveball. It’ll be fun!”’
I strongly approve of this transaction. I was an All-Star catcher in middle school, (there’s no easy way to say that) though I only caught fastballs and change-ups. (That didn’t help. I also agree curveball is one word.) Many things, we can teach another. I’m ambidextrous, or mixed, if that helps. (It does. People seem so helpless sometimes. I enjoy my power over them.)
Establishment GOP hack gubernatorial candidate “I’m not going to ban abortion. I’m not going to get rid of the Oregon Health Plan. Im going to freeze ultilith rates.”
Just run as a Democrat. Holding my nose is getting harder and harder.
Yeah.
Why she’ll lose.
Also, greater Idaho. The Oregon counties that want it need to man up and just do it. Stop sending their taxes to Salem. When they get sued ignore the lawsuits.
The counties themselves aren’t sending money to Salem. They’re cashing Salem’s checks.
If there is a state level property tax they are sending it, enforcing the fuel taxes ect.
Not likely. If you create Greater Idaho, Ontario is then in Idaho. The Treasure Valley won’t have anywhere to buy it’s pot.
No state property tax*. Income tax is paid directly to the state.
*certain large utilities, railroads, and maybe some others have their property centrally assessed. Not sure if they pay directly to the state or split among the counties, but doesn’t flow from counties to state. Similarly, vehicle registration is handled by the state (as it should be, fuck states with county level license plates).
State fuel tax is paid to the state by the distributor or retailer along with reporting, and if a local entity opts in with their own tax, the state will handle it as well.
That would be a good thing for that blue hole.
The utilities in Idaho are charged by the counties on property tax. Railroads are probably exempt but I don’t know about them, just guessing because all the special rules for railroads going way back.
Dagon has county administered plates but most of the money goes to the state. I’m anti animal vehicle licensing myself, it should be a one and done thing when you buy the rig. Like my commercial trailers are lifetime.
“. Im going to freeze ultilith rates.”
Something, something, candles
Why not mandate solar panels and send the extra back to the utility company for a refund?
Sounds like the candidate has been talking to Mandami with advice from Trump
Pretty much. She’s trying to appeal to Democrat and Democrat friendly voters that aren’t entirely happy with the current situation, sort of understand there’s something wrong, but can’t admit their own role in the whole thing.
Baby murder is evil. Demanding that citizens who don’t support baby murder still pay for it is evil.
The Oregon Health Plan is a fucking colossal mistake and is part of the excessive welfare and handouts that have broken the state budget and attracted lazy parasites.
The public unions stranglehold on politics is part of why government costs are too high. End public sector bargaining. Take an axe to state employment.
Cut off the parasite quangos that are sucking down tax dollars.
Go back to every other year legislative sessions.
Get rid of the metal detectors on the state Capitol entrances.
End state land use planning. End the ban on new cities. Stop encouraging consolidation and expansion of every political entity from cities to school districts.
Stop the moronic adhesion to the NEC and other code bodies that constantly add ever more “nice to haves”.
Cut the “temporary” income tax increases.
Roll back the last twenty years of taxes and fees.
That would be a start.
Decent start.
I can’t recall how many years ago now, but Oregon tried to pass a law taxing GROSS business income. Truitt Bros (speaking of Salem) went hard against it (among many others).
WA does that.
Business and Operating tax. I get to be an unpaid tax collector for them.
Yes, corporate activities tax.
Disclosure: Go Game 7! I’d kinda prefer the Brewers, but I don’t really care. So far, so good. I like small ball. Looks like tomorrow we’re going on a foliage journey to Lebanon, IN. Big news from work: After a week in the Vault, and a week in Intake, I’m going to Shipping on Monday. They told me, and is backed by my brief research, that they move people around to introduce ’em to stuff and see where they best fit. According to Gemini, Shipping is “almost universally preferred” to Intake, and the steady, simple & clear directives seem nicer on paper. *shrug* I don’t really care, but the described contracts with Intake are lovely.
Also, black cutie is being moved out of the Vault and she’s taking over my desk at Intake! We spoke for a moment as I was leaving but I was still processing everything, so I didn’t handle it as well as I shoulda. I’ll make sure to ‘run into’ her next week. She’s adorable. I’m upset in-the-moment nerves overpower my ‘me normal and notice’ drive. *shrug* We shall also see!
Go Game 7. All extra innings.
The red wig is a nice and totally convincing touch.
And the Oregon media sensitively respecting her chosen sex. 🙄
Should have tried to enroll as Ronald McDonald.
There’s a Law & Order about that, but she killed at least once. She keeps claiming to be an abused orphan and goes place to place, swindling.
Ripped from the headlines!
Yeah, MY headlines.
Probably would have been enrolled with open arms had he expressed interest in joining the girls basketball team.
Tweaked my back this week. Worst I’ve done, effing sucks. I think it was from pulling tiles in a raised floor. I used to love those for the “clean” look but after this week, I’m done with them. No records, no labeling, very poor layout. The guys who built are long long gone and now I’ve picked it up.
Wait until you pull it reaching for the soap in the shower.
Last night I half-woke and rolled from one side to the other in bed and cramped up in my lower shin. Whee!
Modern day fraud is basically the Superman/Office Space fraud…
Take tenths of a penny and no one notices.