“A whipping?” Lola cried out in shock. “He can't do that.”
“He can and he will,” Matheson said. “And you can take comfort in the fact that you will at least be here for Earl Rippon when it is done.” He didn't look at all comfortable with the situation, but he knew he was powerless to change it. “Lady Bamber, Lord Bamber...”
“He can't,” Annabelle said, right away. “If he does, he will put himself at immediate risk right away.”
“He has to,” Matheson replied, looking her right in the eye. “I can go down and see him, or you can. But this is how we have been surviving, one day at a time.”
No one said anything for a long moment, their glances shifting between each other.
“Can Harold not do it?” Annabelle said. “He just came off watch, but I know he'll agree if it was for Aaron.”
“If we were on a normal ship, with a Captain that had not been ravaged by war...perhaps,” Matheson said. “But when he is done whipping Earl Rippon, he will come aboard to check that his orders have been obeyed. If Lord Bamber is not standing on deck, it is he who will get the whipping. And Lord Bamber cannot stand a whipping, I think you'll agree.”
“No,” Annabelle said, although she felt tears slip down her cheeks. “No, he cannot.”
“Then rouse him,” Matheson replied. “I like it no more than you.”
“Annabelle,” Lola said, slipping a hand in hers. Despite the fact that Lola felt like her heart was going to be break, she took it, and the two of them made their way down into the lieutenant’s wardroom.
Aaron was sitting up. Annabelle could see from his face that he was in pain. She couldn't bring herself to speak the words she needed to, and Aaron's eyes widened.
“Annabelle, what is it?”
“The captain is going to beat Wesley and you're to take over the watch,” only Lola's theater training saved her from crying as well. “What are we supposed to do?”
Aaron said nothing to that, took a deep breath, and then another. He swung his legs over the side of the hammock.
Lola reached out to support him, and while he accepted her support, he only used it for a moment.
“Ladies,” he said, looking for some modesty to get dressed. The two of them backed out of his cabin, and Annabelle turned around, to knock on Harold’s door. He had said something about resting his eyes a moment, but she knew this was worth interrupting him.
CHAPTER FIVE
BYSTANDER
BYSTANDER
“But we cannot just stand here and let him be beaten for a mistake he did not make,” Lola protested, once Harold had been updated on the situation.
“I like it no more than you,” Harold said, as they waited for Aaron to emerge.
“Can you at least be with him?” Lola cried. “Please. Can you be present?”
“I---” Harold thought about that a moment. Aaron emerged from the wardroom then, dressed, but pale.
“You can,” he said, his voice cracked. Harold thought he was going to fall over at any moment, but he didn't move. Twenty years of being friends had taught him only to flinch when it was needed. “You are his commanding officer; you can be present for his discipline.”
“Will you not need support on deck?”
“No,” Aaron said. “For the first time in my life, I will a lovely lady surrounding me while on duty.”
“Just one?”Annabelle managed, and he smiled.
“You're just my sister,” he said, which made Harold roll his eyes.
“I will go to him,” he promised Lola. “But you are to call me if anything changes at all.”
“Of course,” Lola said. Annabelle caught Harold’s hand as he was leaving.
“He's never laid a hand on you?”
“No,” Harold said. “You cannot beat officers. Midshipmen are the gray area, but if the captain was heard to be beating lieutenants, he would be court-martialed.”
“Oh, well, that is good to know, at least,” Annabelle said, sarcasm in her voice. Harold gave her a nod, and stepped out the door. Aaron sighed, glancing at the steps just outside the door as if it were an insurmountable task. Then, he took them, one by one, as if he would plummet forward.
Lola bit her lip, and turned to Annabelle.
“I can't not watch,” she said. “I can't not be there for him.”
Annabelle took a heavy breath, but gave her the slightest nod. She waited until Aaron was most of the way up the steps, and then took a sharp left, pass the ladder. She had watched which way Harold turned, and now, she led Lola there. She vaguely remembered a wide open space, where the cannons were kept, from the tour. She was correct in her assumption that they had led Wesley there.
Lola's theater training saved her once again as they peaked around the corner. Wesley had stripped his shirt, and the captain stood behind him with a lashing stick, his face emotionless.
“Perhaps after twenty lashes, you will think, Earl Rippon, about how to discipline your own men,” he said.
Annabelle saw Harold, standing at his side. He looked like he wanted to strangle the captain.
She understood authority. She understood duty, and the proper order of things. After all, she had grown up as nobility. She knew that the place you were given on Earth was important, and for a reason. She never questioned when she was born a lady and not a princess. She never wondered why someone else was King, or why the men obeyed their Captain.
Except for this moment, when she wondered if there was a better way of doing things.
Annabelle grasped Lola's hand in hers, as they tried to remain silent and undetected, just around the corner.
“One,” counted the captain and hit Wesley's bare skin.
Lola buried her face in Annabelle's shoulder, breathing heavily.
“Two,” said the captain, as calm as if he was ordering dinner. Wesley grunted, and Lola flinched.
“He's strong,” Annabelle said, softly, holding the younger girl tightly. “He is strong, he can take it.”
“He shouldn't have to take it,” Lola managed.
“No,” Annabelle agreed. “He should not. But that is the way of the world.” Although, she realized, it did not have to be. Aaron had married a peasant, she was marrying an officer. The world was slowly changing, and yet injustices like this were still being done.
They managed to remain undetected until the captain reached eighteen lashes. Harold looked up at that moment, and his eyes widened just a fraction when he met Annabelle's. She brought a finger to her lips, and took a step back with Lola. All he saw was their retreating backs as the captain hit twenty lashes.
Wesley was still standing, his face pale and his back bleeding. He was an Earl, and he should be treated as such. However, on Captain Willcock's ship, none of that seemed to matter. He stood up, staring straight ahead.
“There,” the captain said. “Now, I trust, Earl Rippon, you have learned how to hand out discipline?”
“Yes, sir,” Wesley said, his voice steady.
“Good,” the captain handed Harold the rod. “Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a dinner with our honored guests to prepare for.”
He strolled off as if nothing of significance had happened. Annabelle and Lola were only spared from his sight by a dark corner of the ship, standing as still as statutes.
When he was safely out of sight, both of the ladies flew forward. Lola grabbed Wesley, trying desperately not to hurt him as she eased him down onto a barrel.
Wesley said nothing, and Harold knew he was trying to control his emotions. It would be better if the girls weren't here, but he couldn't send them away without assuring them that it was alright by seeing him.
For a long time, no one said anything. The ship shifted and creaked, and Lola kissed Wesley on the cheek, settling beside him. Annabelle clung to Harold, laying her head on his chest, and he gently ran his fingers through her hair.
“Is Aaron on deck?” he asked, at last.
“Yes,” she said. “With great difficulty.
I haven't heard any chaos above, though.”
“He should be alright if he is just on watch,” Harold replied.
“Does the captain really expect us to go to dinner with him?” Annabelle replied. “I would rather go to dinner with a hangman than him.”
“I do not think I can stomach a dinner with him,” Lola replied. Wesley spoke for the first time, his voice cracking with pain.
“You have to,” he said. “You have to go. Who knows what that man is capable of in the middle of the ocean, if you all refuse his invitation.”
“Wesley---” Lola protested, but he stood up, shakily.
“No,” he said. “I was punished for a mistake I made, and I have paid the price. That is the end of that. I'll relieve Lord Bamber on deck now.”
“Wesley---” Lola tried again, but Harold put a hand on her shoulder.
“Let him be,” he said. “His mind is trying to process the pain and this is how he knows how.”
“I recognize that,” she replied. “But you cannot stand for this.”
“The best thing you can do for him,” Harold said. “Is distract him on deck, take his mind off the pain. Shall we all go?”
“I hope the captain lingers too close to the side,” Lola said, and Harold gave her a sharp look.
“Whether you are in the navy or not, talk like that is mutiny, Lola. You could be prosecuted the same as a seamen.”
“Maybe,” she replied, hauntingly “But at least then, when they speak my name, they will remember more than the stage lights.”
“I'm inclined to agree with her,” Annabelle said softly to Harold. “My heart breaks enough for Wesley. If that was you---”
“Love,” he turned to her, softly. “It will not be. Shall we join Aaron on deck?”
She nodded, silently, shell shocked by the experience. They climbed the stairs behind Lola. Wesley was moving slowly across the deck, avoiding the gazes of those who were rude enough to stare.
Aaron was leaning against the side, his blue eyes watching Wesley approach.
Wesley saluted Aaron, although everyone could see that it was of great pain to him.
“I will retake the watch, sir,” he said.
“Beidh me ag roinnt le leat,” Aaron replied, and Lola's heart just about broke. She had learned enough Irish Gaelic, Wesley's first language, to know that Aaron had offered to share the watch, despite his state. She knew how much her lover struggled with English daily, and in such a state as this, it would only worsen the struggle.
Wesley held Aaron's gaze for a long moment, fighting with his mind.
“Le do thoil nach bhfuil. Ta me laidir,” he muttered, and Aaron smiled softly. Please don't, I am strong.
“Ta se mar go bhfuil tú laidir go mbeidh me,” Aaron replied. It is because you are strong that I will do so.
Wesley broke the gaze, looking away. Lola stepped forward, her presence known at his side. Wesley only dipped his head to Aaron in agreement, and took his position, far enough away that no one would see his struggle.
Harold and Annabelle approached Aaron, keeping their body language casual, as if they were simply discussing the day.
Although Aaron was slumping on the side, his eyes sparkled well enough, and Annabelle was glad to see color in his cheeks again. However, despite a slow recovery, it did not solve the issue of tonight.
“The captain still wants us to go to dinner with him,” she said. “As if we would go willingly.”
“That is tonight,” Aaron remembered. “Just before the change of the watch. We are expected, Harold?”
“Yes,” Harold said. “I doubt he'll have Wesley in attendance, after today, but the rest of the officers, and the nobles. It is customary, whenever we have special guests.”
The sea rocked then and Aaron half stumbled. Annabelle grabbed him, just as Harold moved forward.
“Aaron,” Harold half growled at him. “Go back to bed.”
“And leave Wesley up here alone?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “When he was twelve years old, scrawny as a snake, and couldn't speak a word of English, we were his only friends in the world, Harold. I'm not about to abandon him now. I'll be here, even if this is where I stay.”
“I'm not sure now is the time to win friendship awards of service,” Annabelle said, and her brother smiled.
“Regardless, this is quite comfortable. I know that we are in a bad situation, but I refuse to sit here and become a negative cloud.”
“We do only have a week left,” Harold said.
“What about the men who get saddled with Willcock afterwards?” Annabelle asked. “They won't put him on another ship, surely.”
“His future is not quite as defined as ours,” Harold said. “He could continue to sail, or he could retire. Usually, an assignment on the flagship like this would indicate retirement...but the captain is not of the same mind as everyone else.”
“I don't think he's in any mind at all,” Lola said, her voice low.
“I think Aaron is right,” Harold replied. “We should enjoy our time, make the best of that.”
Annabelle glanced over to Wesley and Lola, with a loud sigh.
“I doubt they will be of the same mind,” she said. “But we cannot change the past.”
“No,” Harold squeezed her hand. “We cannot. Although...I did not expect the captain to hand out a beating, with so many dignitaries aboard.”
“Neither did I,” Aaron replied. “With Willcock though, nobody knows what to expect.”
“This is true,” Harold answered. One week, they just had to survive one more week.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DINNER PARTY
THE DINNER PARTY
“I have entertained Prince George, the Pope himself, and many visiting Kings and Queens,” Annabelle said, that evening as they got ready for a dinner they did not want to attend. “I know how to sit at a dinner and be polite. But I have never wanted to be in a room with someone less.”
“Not even the Duke of Buckingham?” Aaron asked, trying to smile.
“He is just an annoying little man,” Annabelle replied. “He does not inspire...violence within me.”
“Annabelle!” Harold turned in shock, but she shrugged.
“I was never one to hold my tongue, Harold, this shouldn't surprise you.”
“It doesn't surprise me,” he admitted. “But I hope you can manage to hold your tongue tonight, at least.”
“Does he regularly invite you for dinners after treating you so horribly?” she asked, slipping on a bracelet. If she was going to dine with a man she did not like, she was at least going to do so in style.
“Yes,” Harold replied. “We do dine with the captain once a week. Mostly, they are business meetings, where he updates us on the situations. On other ships, it might be a place to voice grievances or concerns.”
“But not here,” she said, and Harold sighed.
“No, not here,” he said.
“Sir, a note from the captain,” Corrigan appeared at the door.
“Maybe he is canceling dinner,” Aaron quirked his eyebrow at Lola, who smirked.
“I'll take it,” Harold said. “Thank you, Corrigan.”
“Ahem,” Corrigan tried to get a smile out of them. “It's customary to tip the messenger.”
“Go away, Corrigan,” Harold replied, although it did make them all smile a bit. Harold opened the note, prepared for any news. The note though, made his face darken.
“What is it?” Annabelle went over his shoulder, to see the captain's hastily scrawled message.
Mr. Harper,
Please do me the duty of inviting Earl Rippon and his courtesan to our dinner. Perhaps she can entertain us.
“WHAT did he just call Lola?” Aaron almost exploded, his face darkening.
“What do you want me to do, Aaron?” Harold asked. “Write back with corrections to his message?”
“Why would he want Wesley at his table after what just happened?” Annabelle sputtered. “That will humiliate him
.”
“That is the point,” Harold set his jaw, throwing the letter on the table.
“You're not going to do it?” Annabelle asked.
“At this point, I have little choice in the matter,” Harold replied. “There's still half an hour, which is plenty for them to get dressed. I'll be back.”
“It will mean none of us are on watch,” Aaron pointed out. Harold paused a moment.
“I'll see if Matheson is up to it. If not, I'll find the least incompetent midshipman.”
“But---” Annabelle protested. He spun around.
“Do not think it gives me pleasure to relay this message,” he said, and she nodded. Once he exited the cabin, she turned to her brother.
“So, if I accidentally flick my fork into the captain's eye---”
“No one would be sad,” Aaron said. “I think what makes the whole situation worse is that half the crew supports him and is loyal to him. Somehow. Many of them have served with him before, and they perhaps knew him when he was...the legend. Mr. Doren has served with him twenty years, he knows no other life. It baffles me how anyone can support this man, and yet the vast majority still do.”
“Harold told me speaking like that is mutiny,” Annabelle said, and Aaron gave a sad shrug.
“I have bigger demons to fight,” he replied.
“I'm going to sing him a song about drowning for the good of the ship,” Lola burst in, her face bright red. “I'm certainly not changing, if that's what he thinks. If there was a patch of mud, I would roll in it right now.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow.
“Unfortunately for you, you look presentable. How is Wesley?”
“He has gone to get into his dress blues, but you should have seen his face,” Lola answered. “He needs rest.”
“Aye, well there is the bright side of this,” Aaron said. “The captain's food is far better than the rations any of us get.”
“I'd rather eat slop,” Annabelle said, and her brother smirked.
Wesley joined them in the wardroom within minutes. It was on the way to the captain's quarters at the end of the hallway. He looked pale, and he was unusually quiet, standing stock still as everyone stood up.
Saving The Lord’s Title (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 4
