by Ruby Moone
Charles looked a little pale. “How did they track you to here?” he asked.
“I have no idea, but if they found me they may well have worked out where Julian was going.” Realisation only sank in as he said it and it made his heart lurch. “I have to go…” He stood and hesitated. “Charlie, you have given me so much already, but if you could loan me a horse…?”
Charlie stood up and came to stand in front of him. He looked into his eyes for a moment, making Harry anxious, and then seemed to come to a decision. “I will take you. I have a carriage that is heavy enough to get through the snow. We had better get ready.”
Harry was almost open mouthed. “I can’t ask that of you,” he said, reaching out to touch his arm.
“You didn’t. I offered.” Charlie looked him square in the eye and gave a small smile. “We need to get a move on.”
“But…”
“But what?”
Harry didn’t know what to say. Charlie had listened to the whole sordid story and was standing there as if he had said nothing. He wondered if he had misunderstood.
“Charlie, don’t you understand? I’m a prostitute, a whore,” he said gently.
Charlie frowned. “Did you fuck me for money and to persuade me to help?”
Harry thought for a moment and pursed his lips. “No. The thought crossed my mind that I probably could, but I decided that you were too decent. I decided not to, decided that I wouldn’t, but then…” Harry’s breath hitched a little at the memory. “When you wanted me…I couldn’t…” He covered his eyes with his hand. “Christ, Charlie, it has never been like that with anyone. No-one ever wanted me, needed me like you did.”
Charlie’s frown lifted. “Well then. Let us head for Scarborough and hope we find Julian before Mosely does. And let’s hope for his sake he never crosses my path again.” The last was said with utter determination.
Chapter 11
Charles piled blankets into the back of the carriage along with his reloaded pistols, his rifle, and shotgun. He added a basket of food for them just in case, and left a plate of meat for the cat. Shivering, he checked the horses and decided that all was in order and they needed to leave. He was doing a good job of not thinking too closely about what Harry had said. He couldn’t deny that the thought of Harry in that situation shook him badly. The thought of Harry with other men made his gut hurt almost unbearably and he couldn’t put a name to the feeling that this new knowledge flooded him with, but he had been an innocent boy lured into something beyond his understanding and entrapped. He had heard of Dante’s; it was an extremely exclusive club in London but he hadn’t realised that it catered to his kind as he had never been there. The thought of paying for someone to…well, that had always left him feeling a little cold.
He also found that he was deeply moved by Harry’s actions to remove the child from the brothel. Sometimes he seemed terribly young, but at other moments more of a man that most would ever be. What saddened him was the exuberance and affection that had been so evident over the last day was were completely gone. He was despondent and low. Charles patted the horse one last time and then headed back into the house.
“Chin up,” he said as Harry cleared away the last of the breakfast dishes neatly. He even understood Charles’ need for order.
“It’s up,” he said with a weak smile.
Charles felt awkward. That easy affection had been blown away by the intervention of Mosely and his henchmen, and Harry’s tale. Where they had been warm, comfortable, and affectionate they were now awkward and he didn’t quite know how to regain that closeness and companionship. He had no idea how Harry would react if he tried to kiss him. He moved closer and Harry looked ready to weep. His eyes were glassy. Charles lifted an arm and awkwardly touched his cheek with the back of his fingers and watched Harry’s eyes flutter closed. He reached in and kissed him on the mouth. It was a clumsy, closed mouthed kiss but it seemed to galvanise something in Harry who moaned softly and wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. Charles pressed his face into Harry’s neck. This was what he needed. To be held so tightly it hurt by those hard, wiry arms.
“Oh Charlie,” Harry choked. They stayed like that for a moment and then parted awkwardly. Charles patted his arm and they headed for the stable.
* * * *
Harry sat huddled in his borrowed clothes next to Charlie who drove at a fair clip. He pulled his hat lower to keep the icy wind off his eyes. It was the most stunningly beautiful morning. They had eventually left the house at around half past six, and Charlie said it would take around two hours to get to Scarborough. The snow and rain had stopped and the sky was clear. So clear that the stars seemed to go on endlessly. Everywhere was eerily quiet, the sound dampened by the covering of snow. As Charlie moved the horses steadily on Harry could do nothing more than sit beside him and lean on him to try and share some of the warmth from his body, and listen to the crunch of the wheels as they drove.
Charlie’s coat was a huge, many-caped affair and he had loaned him a similar one. He had wrapped a scarf around his throat, covering his mouth and nose. Harry had done the same, so they no doubt looked a peculiar sight as they trotted through the snowy lanes. They covered the first hour of the journey pretty much in silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Harry felt that Charlie needed a little quiet, and he felt that he had probably said quite enough.
“Would you like to get out of the cold for a short while? We could have something to eat?” Charlie asked after a few more miles. It was still dark, but the sky had the beginning of a pinkish glow as though sunrise was struggling to push its way through the darkness. Pretty as it was, the cold wind was biting and becoming unbearable, so Harry was glad of the suggestion.
“Only if you do.”
Charlie found a spot on the road that was wide enough for them to pull over without causing any kind of obstruction, not that they had seen another coach or traveller at all, and jumped down and tethered the horses to a handy tree.
“If you look in the back there is a basket of food. We can shelter for a little while, warm up, and get something to eat. If we get back on the road quickly we could be in Scarborough not long after sunrise, probably around half past eight or so.”
Harry jumped down and clambered into the back. The interior of the carriage was dark, but sheltered. It felt marginally less freezing and it was certainly a huge relief to get out of the wind. Charlie heaved himself in and the whole thing rocked, but they got settled side by side and Charlie delved into the basket and pulled out bread and the last of the ham from breakfast. They ate in silence.
When they had finished, Charlie packed the wrappings neatly and placed them in the basket. Harry put a hand on his arm.
“I have no notion of how I will ever repay all you have done for me, but I will. You have my word on that. I will find a way.” He meant it. Meant every word.
“There is really no need,” Charlie said.
Frustration ate at Harry. They were bundled up so much he couldn’t get near to him. He wanted to hold him, kiss him…he was so quiet. Harry was desperate to know what he was thinking. He pulled his hands free of the gloves that he wore and managed to slide one hand around Charlie’s jaw. He felt him jump.
“Charlie,” he whispered and leaned as close as the carriage would allow. He brushed his lips against the corner of this mouth and after a moment Charlie turned, caught his face in his gloved hand, and brought their mouths together. They kissed gently. Charlie was the first to pull away, but he leaned his forehead against Harry’s.
“Do you hate me?” Harry said. Their breath formed little clouds between them in the cold.
Charlie shook his head. “No.” The word came out on a puff of air and something inside Harry uncurled a little. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes.
“We must go,” Charlie said, but didn’t move. Harry leaned on him for a moment and then pulled away. They got out of the carriage and settled themselves on the seat. Harry pulled his gloves
back on and pulled his hat down.
Chapter 12
The sun was rising as they neared Scarborough. The town lay in the east, so they watched the sky fill with winter fire on what was the most peculiar Christmas morning Charles had ever experienced. Harry leaned on him and he was grateful for the warmth and company. His face was freezing and he was cold to the bone and he had no doubt Harry was, too. He glanced at his companion who sat upright as the fields gave way to the town. The air was filled with the smells of salt and seaweed and as they came into the town and drove to the cliff where the stage would alight they had the most magnificent view. They could see the sea crashing against the beach far below them, filling the air with noise and spray, and the ruins of the ancient castle that sat high on a headland guarding the town that curved around the bay. Harry’s face was a delight.
“Have you ever been to the coast?” Charles asked.
“No. Never seen the sea.” Harry wasn’t looking at him.
“Good view?”
Harry turned and grinned. “Very.”
They pulled into the Bell Inn on Bland’s Cliff, the hooves clattering over the cobbles as they slowed into the yard. Charles was pleased to navigate the tight bend without scraping the carriage.
“We are probably best starting here as this is where the stage usually lands. The mail coach, too.” Charles jumped down and handed the reins over. Harry landed beside him and as the horse and carriage were led away they made for the inn.
“They do the most delicious breakfast here,” Charles said.
Harry nodded. “Do you think they will today? It is Christmas, after all.”
“Let’s see?”
They were headed for the entrance when Harry caught his arm. “Listen,” he said, tilting his head. Charlie listened to the crashing of the waves below them. The air tasted of salt and the shriek of the seagulls above them became deafening. Harry turned delighted eyes to him. Charles wanted to take him in his arms and listen with him and share his joy, but they were in public so he gave him a pat on the arm and walked on.
The door was open so they both walked in, removing their hats and pulling off gloves as they got inside. The inn was warm and welcoming, and there were a few people sitting around. Charles walked up to the bar and a man appeared with a huge smile.
“Sirs, season’s greetings. What can I do for you?” He wiped his hands on a white apron. Charlie arranged breakfast and coffee for them whilst Harry found a seat by the window near the fire and where he could watch people walk past, and no doubt see the sea.
“Happy Christmas,” Charlie said as he sat himself opposite.
“Happy Christmas,” Harry said and his face softened into a beautiful smile. His eyes were warm and his smile tender.
Charlie glanced around. “You probably shouldn’t smile at me like that,” he said. He hated to say it, but Harry’s face was so expressive at times.
Harry ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.”
When breakfast was served, they were called to a huge table where they had the company of several other travellers. A large dog positioned itself hopefully by Harry’s leg, and the proprietor brought out platters of food. Charles watched Harry eat freshly baked rolls and local shrimps. His own stomach seemed to be tied firmly into a knot and was lodged firmly under his breastbone. He toyed with a piece of ham and drank some coffee. Where they hell did they go from here? He was surprised how strong the need to make things right for Harry was. He needed to find the boy, restore that smile to Harry, and be sure that he was safe from the brutality that he had endured. Equally as strong was the notion that he did not want to lose Harry, but for the life of him couldn’t think of a single thing to offer to induce him to stay. He turned when he realised that Harry was speaking.
“I’m going to speak to the landlord and see if Julian left me a message.”
Charles nodded. Harry folded his napkin and put it on his plate and headed off towards the bar. Charles took a drink of his coffee and waited. The room was pleasant and everyone in high spirits. They had exchanged season’s greetings with their breakfast companions and branches of holly decorated the table. Charles was amused to see a sprig of mistletoe tied to the candelabra. He took another sip of his coffee and imagined that he could kiss Harry under it.
At the far end of the table was a young couple. A young man, probably not much older than Harry, with his pretty young wife. Every now and then they would steal loving glances at each other, and share shy smiles. Charles was fairly sure that they held hands under the table, playing with each other’s fingers. They tilted their heads together as they spoke and she smiled shyly up at him, eyes filled with affection and warmth, much as Harry’s had been earlier. The intimacy between them plain for all to see. How wonderful it must be to show the affection that was held in one’s heart without fear. Harry’s one tender look in his direction had been enough to have them thrown out, or much, much worse. He stared into the depths of his cup.
“They have no word,” Harry said as he sat back down. “Nothing. The stage coach came in, but he does not recall a young man and certainly no message has been left.” Worry was etched into his face and Charlie was at a loss to know what to suggest.
“What did you tell Julian to do?” he asked.
“I said to leave word as to his whereabouts. I gave him all the money that I had, but…” He ran his hands through his hair.
“Come. Try not to worry. Let’s see if we can take rooms here and then we can start looking for him.”
* * * *
Charles shook out his clothes, hung them neatly, and placed his shaving equipment by the washstand in a neat line. He paused by the window. The view out over the sea was beautiful. He hoped Harry and an equally good vista. The room was warm thanks to a fire roaring in the grate, and clean. The whole place had that soft, underlying smell of hops and polish that alehouses did, but all in all the facilities were acceptable. A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Can I come in?” Harry said with a smile as Charles opened the door. He stood back to allow him through.
“My room is wonderful. I can see the sea,” he said.
“Mine, too.”
Charles was startled to realise how much he wanted to share a room with Harry. Share his joy at the sea as well as his fear about Julian.
“We should get our coats on and go and look for Julian,” he said.
Harry nodded, and brushed his dark curls back with his hand. Charles moved to get his coat, but Harry caught his hand. Charles halted, the tension between them palpable. His heart thumped hard against his chest.
“Charlie…” Harry’s voice was roughened. He pulled Charles closer and slid a hand over his jaw. Charles pushed his cheek into Harry’s palm, closed his eyes, and let himself be pulled into him. Harry brought their lips together in a chaste kiss, and then gathered Charles into his arms and held him tight.
“Tell me we will find him,” he whispered. “Tell me all will be well.”
Charles clung to Harry and squeezed his eyes shut. “We will find him.”
“My angel,” Harry whispered into Charles’ hair.
“What will you do when you find him?” Charles asked the question that had been burning inside him since they had begun the journey in the dark Christmas morning.
“I don’t know. Find work, find lodgings…”
Charles nodded, still holding tight. “I will help.”
“I know. I know I can rely on my angel to save me.”
The words jarred. Charles pulled out of his embrace and scrubbed his face. “Best not to rely on me.”
Harry snorted softly. “You are exactly the kind of angel a man can rely on,” he said, reaching for him again.
“I’m the wrong kind of angel for that,” Charles said feeling the familiar weight of guilt and sadness crush his chest. “My record of reliability is not good.”
“Rubbish,” Harry retorted.
“Ask my famil
y.”
Harry stared at him, clearly shocked. “Charlie, you were a boy. You couldn’t have done anything,” Harry said, his voice sounding appalled. He came up behind him and slid his arms around his waist.
Charles closed his eyes, unable to move. “Ask the men under my command.” He waited for the crushing pain and waves of sickening guilt. There was pain, and there was guilt, but not as strongly. It didn’t threaten to suck him under as it usually did. He waited for Harry to ask him to explain. He didn’t know if he could.
“You lost men?”
Charles nodded.
“Men that you were close to?”
Charles screwed his eyes shut and nodded again.
Harry’s cheek was next to his own. “It was a war, sweetheart.”
Charles crumbled a little at the endearment. He leaned into the embrace and allowed himself to be held. Allowed himself to be comforted for the first time. Harry kissed his temple, and Charles straightened before he ended up weeping again.
“Come. Let’s find the boy.” His voice was rough.
Harry let him go, and Charles swiped at his eyes with his fingers and sniffed. God, he was turning into a watering pot.
Chapter 13
They stepped out of the inn wrapped up against the chill, and after admiring the sea again, they headed up into the town. The place was quiet, with few people around.
“Do you have any idea where to start?” Charlie said.
Harry shook his head.
“Well, let us walk about the streets a little and work our way down to the harbour. He may well have gone to look at the boats and the lighthouse.”
