PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

 
Jack sat in the rocking chair and gently stroked his daughter's back while she laid her head on his chest, rocking her gently.
Honour looked over at the two of them and a feeling of contentment came over her.
'This is what I was running to all my life. This is where I belong.' She turned back again to look at the snow coming down. The fire crackled in the fireplace and when Honour turned around again, Zara was asleep in Jack's arms.
But then, so was Jack.
'If I accomplished anything in this life, it was giving Jack what he always wanted even if he didn't know it. A child of his own. And a chance at happiness.'

Honour carefully scraped a bit of frost from the window. She looked out at the snow coming down in silence, blanketing the earth with an eerie calmness, shrouded in white. Almost as if to whitewash her sins that were buried along with the man Honour had loved with her whole being.  Her mind drifted back to another place, another time.
Another lifetime ago.

He whispered, "I know it's fatal, my love."
"Rhys. Rhys, please. Don't leave me. I love you."
"I love you too, Rhiannon."

And then he was gone. She felt a tear escape and trail down her cheek.
Hastily she wiped it away with the back of her hand and whispered, 'Please, Rhys. Please don't let your memory keep me from enjoying true happiness. Please go and stay buried deep down in my heart. If you ever loved me, let me go.'
She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.


What would her life be like now? Would they constantly be on the run? Would they be sailing the seven seas?  Would they have settled down?

She looked over at her husband sleeping in the rocking chair, their child curled up resting against his chest. At that moment Honour felt she couldn't love Jack any more than she did. She quietly walked over and covered the two of them with a quilt. Jack stirred and opened his eyes.
"She's asleep."
"Yes, she is, darling."
"I did good, didn't I?"
Honour looked at him lovingly and smiled.
"Yes, my darling. You did good."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Dear Lord, man!  How much farther?" huffed Duckie.
"Nearly there, sir," replied the manservant, maintaining what Duckie considered far too brisk a pace.  They reached the end of the long hallway at last.  The man opened the tall double doors with measured precision.  He took three steps into the room and gave a stiff half bow.
"Mister Drake Gander, Countess," he announced.

Duckie, already resentful for being taken on what he felt was a forced march, sidestepped the manservant and entered the west sitting room.  But a sitting room at Tyneforthe Hall would have been a library anywhere else.  It was much like the rest of the manor; grandiose almost to the point of absurdity.  Every yard of fabric, every stick of furniture spoke of wretched excess.  His sister Rose had married into old money, and she was determined to rub everyone's face in it. 

The high walls were done in rich, polished rosewood.  Two enormous bookcases flanked a large fireplace, which crackled and popped with a perfectly stoked fire.  Above the marble fireplace hung a larger-than-life portrait of his sister, replete with an ornate gilt frame.  He wondered for a moment about the two magnificent greyhounds in the painting.  Rose hated animals, dogs particularly.  No doubt the artist added them later in an attempt to bring some measure of warmth to the subject.

"There you are, Drake!  I've been waiting forever for you to get here!  Please, come and sit.  We have so much to talk about!" said Rose.  She was standing near the centre of the room beside two high-backed leather chairs and a marble inlaid rosewood tea table.  Rose Carlisle, the Countess of Shrewsbury, was a tall, slender woman.  She was wearing a gown of the finest silk brocade.  True to the vain habit she developed a child, the dress was varying shades of pale rose.  Her long brown hair was piled and coiffed perfectly upon her head almost like a crown.  She gave her brother her best mistress of the manor smile, a smile so practised and automatic that it never touched her icy blue eyes.

"Do forgive me, my dear," said Duckie as he walked to his sister and embraced her.  "I'm afraid I got turned around in your spacious home.  I was over in the east sitting room when your man came to fetch me.  You'd think that in a week's time I would have discovered everything."
"An honest mistake, I'm sure.  This is a rather large house," said Rose.  "Hudgins?  This tea is unsuitably cold by now.  Bring us a fresh pot.  Fresh scones as well.  I'll not serve these stale things to an honoured guest."
"As you wish, Countess," answered Hudgins with another half bow.
Duckie tried not to show incredulity at Rose's orders.  He had checked the clock on the mantle when he came in the room.  It was only ten past four.
"There's no need, Rose.  I'm sure it's fine.  I don't stand on formalities."
"But I do," she shot back icily.  The too easy smile reappeared instantly.  "I suppose life aboard a ship is a more rugged existence than what the average person would be used to.  But there are standards in this house."
He quirked an eyebrow.  "Yes, I'm sure there are."

"Please, sit!  We have so much to catch up on!"
They sat, and Rose took up her position as ruler of the manor.  "What has it been, Drake?  Five years since I saw you last?"
"Seven, to be exact," said Duckie, eyeing his empty tea cup.  "You weren't married then."
"Ah, that's right!  You were back from a cruise aboard that merchant ship, whatever its name was."
"El Lobo Del Mar."
"Yes, that's the one!  Such a fearsome name for a gentle vessel!  Does the captain treat you well?"
Duckie laughed softly.  "We get along just fine.  As a matter of fact, you know him.  Well."
"Really?" asked Rose, incredulously.  "I'm sure you're mistaken, Drake.  Sea captains don't travel in the same circles I do."
"Oh, this one did, back in the day," he smirked.
She gave him a pained look.  "All right, then.  Enough of the riddles.  Who is this captain you presume I know?"
Duckie smiled broadly.  "Jack Wolfe."
Rose's eyes went wide.  "My Jack Wolfe?"
"Well, suffice to say it's the Jack Wolfe you knew.  Though he's quite a different man now."
Rose shifted in her seat.  "Different, how?  Bolder?  Wealthier?"
"Yes, on both counts.  And a few others."
"More riddles?  And why didn't you tell me before that Jack was a captain?"
Duckie rose from his chair and went to the bookcase, where on one shelf was a bottle of brandy and some glasses.  He poured a tall glass and sighed.  "I did, Rose.  The last time we talked, and in several of my letters.  But it wasn't important to you.  You were too wrapped up with being courted by Lord Edwin Carlisle.  My condolences on his passing, by the way.  I'm sure it was devastating for you."

"Yes, well, it was most unexpected.  But he was an older man.  He left me well provided for, and that's what's most important."
Duckie swirled the brandy around his glass and took a deep drink.  "Yes, I'm sure it is for you."
Rose ignored his comment and tilted her head quizzically.  "You said Jack is different in other ways.  How so?"
"He's happily married, for one," said Duckie as he returned to his seat.  "And he has a beautiful baby daughter, only a few months old."
Rose's face fell.  "Married?  Does he love her?"
"Love her?  He nearly tore the entire Caribbean apart trying to find her at one point.  Yes, he loves her.  Desperately.  And she him."  Duckie was enjoying twisting the knife on his painfully self-impressed sister.
"My, my.  A wealthy captain.  Jack certainly has done well for himself," mused Rose.
"A wealthy, happily married captain, Rose." 
"Yes, yes.  As you said..."

Duckie could see the wheels turning in her head, and it was beginning to sadden him.  His sister had always been a scheming social climber.  But now that she had achieved the status she had so desperately wanted all these years, she seemed to only crave it more.  It gave him some comfort that Jack and Honour were in Beaumaris, with no chance of crossing paths with Rose.  Duckie loved his sister very much, but he pitied her for what she had become.

A status seeker, titled and wealthy.

And so terribly lonely.

[Welsh Wench]

Honour came into the conservatory where Megan had been sitting at her desk, surrounded by stationary, envelopes, inkpots and pens.
Zara was snuggled against her mother and reached out for Aunt Megan when she saw her.
Megan extended her arms and Zara went willingly.
"Megan, don't tell me you haven't finished with the invitations to your winter ball yet!"
Megan sighed. "I got delayed. My hand kept cramping up. But I am almost through."
Honour sat down and picked up the pen. "My handwriting is still good. Do you want me to finish up?"
Her sister bounced Zara on her knee and exclaimed, "I would love it!"
"Where are Dylan and Morwenna?"
"Upstairs with Nanny. She is going over their lessons with them. So I have a few hours of quiet to get this done."

Honour picked up the list and surveyed it.
"I take it the check marks are the ones already done?"
"Yes.  I am a little over halfway through it."
"Good Lord, Megan! Have you invited all of Wales and half of northern England, too?"
"Well, you know that Daffyd has his hands in alot of different enterprises. And this IS the 'event of the season'."
Honour dipped the pen in the inkwell and started writing. She smiled as she wrote. "Do I need to make one out to Captain and Mrs. Jack Wolfe?"
Megan smiled back. "I am so happy you and Jack will be here for this."
Honour sat back and stretched. "I can't believe it will be the first social engagement that Jack and I will have that doesn't involve a tavern and someone getting a bottle broken over their head!"
Megan shook her head. "From the manor born and convent-bred, you certainly took a turn Father hadn't expected."
"Did anyone bother to tell him I got married? Again?"
Megan shook her head. "He won't hear a word from me, Rhiannon. Although I must say Jack cleans up well."
Honour laughed.
"Clean shaven and in clothes that aren't made out of the same fabric as the sails! Who would have thought?"
Megan said, "I suppose it is like sleeping with a different man!"
Honour and Megan looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Megan said, "You know what I mean!"

Honour resumed her writing.  She affected a snobby voice and said, "Oooh, would you look at this? A countess, no less!"
Megan was playing pattycake with Zara and looked over. "Oh, well, actually her husband is--was--an earl. And you know there is no such title as Earl-ess."
Honour sighed and continued. A little over an hour went by and she finally stood up and stretched her arms above her head.
"Finished!"
Megan glanced up and said, "Wonderful! And your little one is asleep."
Zara was laying on a blanket by the fire, Muir curled up next to her.
"That dog just loves her, doesn't he?"
Honour laughed, "Since the day Zara was born, she has had Muir's undying love!"

Honour sat before the fire and gazed into it.  Megan handed her a cup of tea.
"A shilling for your thoughts, love."
Honour gave her a small smile.
"You always knew when something was on my mind, didn't you?"
She nodded. "When you were born, Mother said you were my present. And I was to watch over you."
Honour took a sip of her tea and said softly, "She never knew how right she would be."
Megan reached over and touched her hand.
"He still crosses your mind, doesn't he?"
Honour nodded, still gazing at the fire.
Megan sighed. "I thought so. Sometimes when you look out the window, I would catch you glancing in that direction."
"It doesn't help that Castlemaine is two miles away."
"We always seem to skirt around what happened, Rhiannon.  Would it help to talk?"
"Maybe." She felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes. "I just wondered if he got a decent burial, Megan. I felt awful---I just ran. I felt like I abandoned Rhys."
Megan shook her head sadly. "I never told  you because it was such a sensitive subject. A crewman of his stopped here, thinking this was Castlemaine. He said he was looking for his captain. Captain Rhys Morgan, he said. Fortunately Daffyd was not home. I directed him to Castlemaine. I knew he must have been with you. And if Rhys Morgan brought you a few hours of happiness, it wasn't for me to judge or even stand in the way. Everyone knew what a cruel bastard Madoc Castlemaine was. Everyone except Father. He thought you needed a firm hand. And that Madoc would be the right husband to whip you into shape."
Honour gave a bitter laugh. "Whip he hardly did. At least not to where it showed. His abuse was more psychological."
Megan continued, "I sent the crewman on the way to Castlemaine. He had told me he was to meet Rhys at 8:00 PM. With a carriage."
"We were to leave that night."
"I am guessing that the crewman found Rhys. And took his body with him. No one said. And he would see that Rhys had a proper burial."

Honour's hand started to shake and her teacup tottered. Megan took it out of her hand and laid her hand on her sister's.
"What is it, Rhiannon?"
Honour turned to her with bewildered eyes. She said quietly, "What if Rhys is still alive?"

[Welsh Wench]

Now it was Megan's turn to rattle her teacup. She set it down gently and then turned to her sister.
Honour shook her head and said more to herself than Megan, "But he can't be. I held him as he took his last breath. The blood...so much blood.... "
Megan reached over and held her sister by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her.
In slow, measured tones, she asked, "Rhiannon, what makes you think he may be alive?"
Honour looked at her with troubled eyes. She barely whispered, "I saw him. Megan, I swear, I saw him!"
"Where? Where did you see Rhys Morgan?"
"In the Azores. Jack and I met at a tavern and I saw him walk by."
"Did you see his face?"
"N-no."
"Then how do you know it was him?"
"The same boots."
"Rhiannon, think about it.  A pair of boots?"
"And his coat. And his rapier. And he walked just like Rhys."
"Darling, every pirate walks the same," Megan said quietly.
Honour laughed shakily, "You're right. Of course you are right. It was just my mind playing tricks on me, wasn't it?"
Megan nodded. "Yes, Rhiannon."
Rhiannon laughed again, a bit too brightly. "Yes. Just my mind."
Megan patted her sister's hand. "And now you put it behind you. Rhys Morgan is no longer a part of your life."
Honour wiped the tear away from her eyes.
"And God willing, Jack will never know."
"You never told him that part of your past, did you?"
She shook her head. "How do you tell your husband you killed his best friend?"
Megan said sternly, "You didn't kill Rhys Morgan. He was a full-grown man, and he chose to see you that night, knowing he was with another man's wife. I'm sorry, Rhiannon, for the way it turned out. But don't blame yourself."

Zara stirred and Honour covered her up again with the blanket.
"I don't. And the fact that I have Zara is proof enough that I am meant to be happy. And I will be. As soon as I get back to Barbados."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

It had been two weeks since Duckie arrived at Tyneforthe Hall.  He had the run of the estate for almost all of the first week, as Rose was in London on another of her famous spending sprees.  In a way, he wished she hadn't returned.  Rose had always been materialistic, almost to the exclusion of all else.  Her choice of suitors was never gauged by emotional compatibility, but by their societal ranking.  Obviously she had hit the jackpot in Lord Edwin Carlisle.  But what had she gained, really?  An impossibly huge estate, no children, and a dead husband.  He doubted that even all her money and status could keep Rose warm on lonely nights. Not that it seemed to matter to her.

They had retired to Rose's sanctuary after a rich meal of game hens, assorted greens, and fresh bread.  Rose was in an unusually cheery mood as she poured them each a glass of aged cognac.  She brought Duckie his glass, then sank into her leather chair to enjoy the fire.
"It seems like forever since I've entertained a guest," she sighed.
"Really?" asked Duckie.  "I should think you have all manner of gatherings and balls here."
"I do, I do.  But they don't mean anything, really.  Most of those who come are merely hangers-on and poseurs, hoping to mingle with the rest of us.  I mean those of us with social stature.  Breeding.  You understand."
"Yes, breeding," echoed Duckie dubiously.  "I've heard of it.  They do that with horses and cattle, don't they?"
"Oh, Drake, don't be droll."  She took a sip of cognac and set her glass on the table.  Duckie's eyebrow went up when he noticed her sip had drained nearly half the glass.  "We have a fine family history, certainly nothing to be ashamed of.  Some of these people, I mean, they're immigrants.  Can you imagine?"
"Scandalous," he replied with a roll of his eyes.
"What I'm trying to say is that it is a delight to have you here, after all these years.  How long has it been?  Four?"
"Seven, actually.  Before you married Lord Edwin.  As a matter of fact, you've told me almost nothing of your dear departed.  What was he like?"

Rose shifted in her chair.  "He was a good man," she said quietly as she retrieved her glass.  "Very generous, from a good family."
"I presumed he had good breeding, being a lord and all," said Duckie.  "But what was he like?"
"As I said, he was a generous man.  Quite indulgent, even."
"Yes, yes, but what was he like, as a person?  Was he a sportsman?  Musically inclined?  Bookish?"
Rose cleared her throat and drank some more cognac.  "Edwin and I had different interests."
"Such as?  Come now, Rose, you were married to the man five years.  Surely there's more you can tell me about him."
She thought some more, seeming to struggle to recall any detail of her husband's life.  "Horses!  Yes, Edwin loved his horses."
"Now there's something!  Did he ride or hunt?"
"Hunt... I think.  I know he had a saddle."
Duckie eyed his sister.  "You never rode out with him?"
"Oh, no.  Never.  Riding is more of a man's sport, you know."
"Funny, that's not how you felt when we were younger.  Remember when we'd go to Uncle Henry's farm?  Father would yell himself hoarse trying to get you to quit riding and come in for the evening."
A smile briefly played across Rose's face, but vanished just as quickly.  "That was a long time ago.  Things change."
"I suppose they do," said Duckie, the disappointment all too clear in his voice.  In the pursuit of her ambitions, Rose had compromised everything positive about herself.  In the end, what had she really gained?

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"But he was an influential member of the House of Lords," she said proudly.  "Very powerful and respected.  Everyone sought his approval and influence."
And there it is, thought Duckie.  Rose couldn't tell him much about who her husband was, but she had a firm grasp on what being married to him meant.
"Would you look at that?" she said with a smile as she examined her empty glass.  "More cognac, Drake?"
His glass was still over half full.  "No, thank you.  I'm fine."
"Suit yourself."  She went to the bookcase and poured another glass, a little fuller than the last one.  "For a man of the sea, you drink like you're taking communion."
"I'm a physician first.  I spend far too much time treating those who overindulge to do it myself."
"Always the pragmatist," Rose said with a laugh.  "But let's talk of happier things.  You must have seen extraordinary things in the New World!"
Duckie smiled.  "It really is a whole new world, Rose.  The islands are as diverse as the people who inhabit them.  The cultures, the music, the food...  extraordinary barely scratches the surface."
"Still, it has to be a relief to return to the civilized world.  From everything I've read in the broadsheets, it's a savage, uncouth place."
"Compared to Hampton Court, perhaps.  But I've heard that too can be a most inhospitable and uncouth place.  Don't believe everything you read, Rose.  Just because it's different or outside your experience doesn't make it bad."

Rose regarded her brother.  "You've changed, Drake.  Worldlier, but somehow world-weary.  You sound more philosopher than physician."
Duckie smiled into his drink.  "In my line of work, you get a lot of time to think.  Perhaps too much."
Rose nestled back into her leather chair.  "Now," she said with a calculated smile, "tell me more about Jack."
Duckie sighed hard.  "We're back to this, are we?"
"Oh, Drake," she implored, "it's a simple question.  I want to hear about your heroic captain."
Involuntarily, Duckie laughed.  "Heroic?  Well, I suppose that fits Jack to a point, given what we've been through.  He's certainly not the philosopher you knew."  He paused and looked at his glass.  "What are you up to, Rose?  Why the sudden intense curiosity about your old flame?"
"Can't I ask a few innocent questions?  He is an old friend, after all.  You have such a suspicious mind!"
"I know you when you set your mind to something.  You're like a dog with a bone.  And I hardly think Jack regards you as a friend, after the way you jilted him."
Rose rolled her eyes.  "We were children!  After all these years, I doubt he even remembers it."
"Oh, he remembers, Rose.  It took him a long time to get over you."
"You sound like you haven't entirely forgiven me, either, Drake."
"Jack was my best friend at the time.  You were callous and cruel to him."
"I was being realistic!  Jack was still at university, with his heart set on becoming a professor.  There was no way he would have been able provide for me in a proper fashion.  He was sweet, but a poor prospect."
Duckie motioned at the room around them.  "I suppose this is what you call being properly provided for?"
"It's comfortable enough."
"Comfortable?  It's more like a museum!  Are you honestly happy rattling around in this gargantuan manor?"
Rose pursed her lips.  "What does that have to do with anything?"
Duckie shook his head slowly.  "Rose, happiness is everything.  You can have the whole world, but it doesn't mean much if you aren't happy."
"Spare me the lecture, Drake," she said testily.
"I'm merely concerned about you.  It has to be terribly lonely..."
"Drake Gander, I'll have you know that I am very satisfied with my life, and I'm perfectly happy with how things are!  I have close acquaintances and a busy social schedule.  I hardly consider myself lonely."  She set her glass down on the table and crossed her arms in front of her.  "Perhaps you're right.  I seem to have lost all interest in talking any more tonight."
"Rose, I'm sorry.  I wasn't trying to insult you.  I only meant...  Rose?"
Rose sat there in silence, staring the fire and doing a slow burn.
Duckie sighed.  He knew that when Rose clammed up like this, there was no talking to her until she got over her snit.  He stood up and paused to kiss her on top of the head as he passed her chair.  "I do love you, sister.  Even when you're being impossible."

He left the sitting room, and found himself face to face with Hudgins.
"Hudgins!" Duckie exclaimed.  "How fortunate you should be here.  May I ask you a few questions as we walk?"
"Yes, governor.  What would you like to know?"
"Does the countess host many events?"
"Aye, sir.  Though not nearly as many since Lord Edwin died."
"So she does have guests from time to time?" asked Dukie.
Hudgins shrugged.  "Every now and again.  But mostly she's travelling here, there, and yonder attending balls and shopping.  She does an awful lot of shopping.  She's rarely ever here any more.  Like she can't stand to be here by herself.  She and the Earl were never what you'd call close, see, but I think she misses having him around.  Ah, here we are at your room, governor.  Can I bring you anything?"
"No, Hudgins, you've been too kind.  I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good enough, sir.   Have a pleasant night!"  Hudgins quietly closed the door.
Duckie looked around the room and sighed again.  "I wish I knew what you were up to, Rose.  Why the interest in Jack?" 

Rose poured herself yet another glass of cognac.  She leaned back in her overstuffed leather chair and regarded the fire, and thought back across the years to when Jack Wolfe tried to win her heart...

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Do you know what today is, Rose?"  asked Jack.
"Oh Jack, you know I don't enjoy riddles," said Rose with a coy smile.
Jack tenderly took her hand and looked into her eyes.  "It's a year to the day that we first met."
"Has it been that long?  I hadn't realised."
"Now you're just toying with me," he replied in mock exasperation.

Indeed, it had been a full year since Jack's best friend Drake "Duckie" Gander introduced Jack to his sister, Rose.  She was a strikingly beautiful young woman four years Jack's senior, with a porcelain complexion and long, sable hair that never seemed to be out of place.  She had a stately, regal air about her that only accentuated her beauty.  Ordinarily she would have never considered taking anyone Jack's age or social standing as a suitor.  Not that she considered him serious marriage material.  But he was so smitten with her from the start, and she did enjoy his attentions.  Jack was indulgent of her every whim, as much within his meagre means as possible, even taking odd jobs in the midsts of his studies to do so.  He was always the perfect gentleman, knowing just what to say and how to act despite his humble station.

"Is something bothering you, Jack?  You seem anxious," she asked.
Jack licked his dry lips and took a deep breath.  "Over the past year, I've become very fond of you, Rose.  Very fond indeed."
Rose patted his hand and smiled.  "As I have of you, Jack."
"So fond," he continued with a slight quaver in his voice, "that I find myself dreading being apart from you, even for an hour."
Rose searched his eyes.  "Jack, what are you trying to say?"

Jack fumbled with his vest pocket and produced a small black box.  It promptly slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the floor at her feet.  Awkwardly, he scooped up the box and knelt before Rose on one knee.
"I love you, Rose.  I've loved you from the moment I first saw you."  His voice grew stronger as his words of adoration tumbled out of his mouth.  "I can't imagine a life without you, my love."
With trembling hands, he offered up the box to her.  His voice full of expectation and hope, he asked, "Rose Gander, would you be my wife?"
Astonished, Rose took the box and opened it.  Inside was a gold ring with a tiny diamond set into it.  Jack had scrimped and saved for months to buy it for her.  She stared at the ring, then looked at Jack in open-mouthed surprise... and laughed.

"Oh, Jack, you are so precious!"  She looked again at the ring, and covered her mouth to stifle her giggles.
"Does... does that mean you will?" he asked nervously.
Rose's expression changed from one of mirthful surprise to incredulity.  "You mean-- you're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes, Rose," Jack said quietly.  "I want to spend my life with you."
"Jack, this is so very sweet of you.  I had no idea you felt this way about me.  But, honestly," she said, hushing her voice slightly, "you're the son of a shipwright!  Not to mention that, at best, you'll become an non-tenured professor.  I couldn't possibly marry you!  You could never provide for me in the manner I deserve."

Jack's face fell, and he looked around the room as if something that might help him make sense of what just happened might be lurking in a corner.
"I see," he said quietly. 
He gently retrieved the ring and slipped it back into his vest pocket.  Without another word, he got to his feet and gave Rose a polite kiss on the cheek.  He hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, then he turned and went to the drawing room door. 
As he put his hand on the knob, Rose said, "You'll come round this Sunday after services, won't you?  I'm in the mood for a picnic!  Doesn't that sound lovely?"
Jack simply sighed and left the room.

Rose laughed softly to herself, feeling flattered by Jack's proposal.  She went to the bookcase and poured herself a small glass of cognac, and enjoyed the feeling as the alcohol warmed her from within.
"Rose!!"
She turned and found her brother Drake in the doorway, red faced and fuming.
"Drake!  What is the matter?  You look positively beside yourself."

Duckie pushed the door closed and stalked into the room.  "What in God's name is the matter with you, Rose?!  Jack just came into the study, completely devastated!  He muttered something asking you to marry him, and you laughed in his face?"
Rose rolled her eyes and sat down with a flounce.  "I had no idea he was serious!  I mean, even you can see how absurd the whole thing was!  Really, he has no prospects, no breeding, no family money...  There's no way I could possibly marry him."
Duckie stared at his sister in disbelief.  "That was cruel, Rose.  Even for you.  Jack loved you!  That's more important than anyone's breeding or money will ever be.  The man adored you, and you humiliated him!"
Rose's face clouded.  "I suppose I might have hurt his feelings a bit.  Honestly, Drake, I thought he was having me on."
"No, he wasn't.  He's been working up the nerve to ask for your hand over a month now.  For a solid year, he's worshipped the ground you walk on.  That's a wasted year he'll never get back.  A heartbreak he never should have endured."
Rose exhaled in exasperation.  "You make me sound like such a monster!  Jack is resilient.  In a few days, he'll have forgotten all about this nonsense.  You'll see."

Duckie set his jaw as he watched his sister arrange her skirts as if she were about to sit for a portrait. 
"Rose, you've crossed a line this time.  Jack Wolfe is my best friend.  Now I have the regret of ever introducing you to him."  He shook his head.  "I shan't forgive you for this.  Not for a long time.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have a heartbroken friend to console." 
He turned from his sister and quickly left the room, leaving her alone with her vanity and her cognac.

~~~~~~

The older, infinitely shrewder Rose stared into the fire, smiling smugly to herself.  "Yes, but he's rich now.  A pity about his being married.  I should like to see him again, for old time's sake."  She started to take another sip of cognac, and gave the glass a puzzled look.  "Hmm.  Empty.  Oh, well."
She shrugged and gave a resigned smile, and went to the bookcase to fill her glass yet again.

[Welsh Wench]

"Have you heard from Josiah yet?" Honour asked.
Jack looked up from the book he was reading. "Funny you should mention that. I got a letter today. They reached Amsterdam safely and with no incidents."
"When will he be back?"
"About two weeks. Homesick?"
She leaned over Jack's shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Yes, I think I am. It was grand to see Megan and Dilys and Gwyneth but I miss the sun."
Jack laughed. "It was funny to see you with your sisters. I swear, the more you talked, the thicker your Welsh accent got. And when you and your sisters lapsed into Welsh, I couldn't keep up."
She laughed. "And you don't realize it, but when you talked with Angus, you kept right up with his Scottish brogue. I never heard you roll your 'r's that way!"
He reached over and patted her cheek.
"You can thank my maternal grandmother for that.  She lives in Scotland and I used to visit her during the summer. But we will be home soon enough. I can't wait to see the plantation you bought. It sounds like everything you ever wanted. Even better than Mr. Picou's property."
"About the plantation, Jack---"

"Da-da!" Zara held onto the edge of a small table and let go.
"Come on! That's my girl! Put one foot in front of the other and--"
WHOMP!
Zara sat down on her bottom. Jack sighed. "So close..."
Honour picked her up.
"And now it is time that Zara went to bed. And then I think Mummy needs to get some sleep too. Say night-night to Da."
Zara yawned as she laid her head on Honour's chest. She gave Jack a baby-wave and Jack blew her a kiss as Honour put their daughter to bed.

As they laid in bed, Jack said, "Honour, I think I would like to have your portrait done."
"Mmm hmm....."
"Honour?"
Silence.
He laughed softly and said, "You haven't heard a word I said. Sleep tight, love."
He leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek, then snuffed out the candle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think this dress is very becoming, don't you?"
Rhiannon looked at Madoc and sighed. "It's alright. But the colour is so awful! I would look like an old woman in that dress."
Madoc's mouth drew into a tight line. "It is very fitting as to your station as Lady Castlemaine."

Rhiannon flung herself backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "But I would look about forty in that dress, Madoc."
He held the dress up. "It is what you will wear."
She took the dress and made a face. "It smells funny. Like it has been in a closet for a long time."
He ignored the remark. "And here are some pearls. Three strands and a rosary attached. To show your piety."
"PIETY?" she laughed.
"Piety. You were, after all, brought up in a convent. Surely piety is not an unknown quality to you."
"Why do I have to sit for a portrait?"
"Because it is a tradition in the Castlemaine legacy."
"So what did you do with the former lovely Lady Castlemaine captured for eternity on canvas?"
Madoc looked out the window and said quietly, "Margaret's portrait is now over at Henry's house."
"Well, I am sure he is happy to have his mother back with him again. Can't we just do this another time? Like when I am an old lady? I mean, by the time I am thirty, the character will be there and I will be a much more interesting subject."

Madoc's hand touched her arm and it made her shiver. But not the way Rhys' touch had made her shiver.  Madoc's was cold. As cold as ice. It matched his heart. 'Old Vinegar Veins', Rhiannon had called him under her breath and behind his back.
She held the dress up and said, "I think this dress is hideous."
Madoc grabbed her by the arm and said in his deadly calm voice, "You will wear it if I have to dress you in it myself."
His face was close to her and she could see the coldness in his eyes. She tried to match it but her gaze faltered.
"As  you wish, Milord."

He gave a self-satisfied smile. "That is more like it, Madame. The painter is due here at 1:00. The light in the library will be perfect till late afternoon."
"The library? Madoc, why not the gardens? It's so nice out and the library is musty and---"
"The library."

He let her arm go and Rhiannon rubbed it where it hurt.
"Alright. I'll change into this....gown."
Madoc left and she stepped out of her chemise. Another bruise to add to the other ones on her arms and shoulders. Madoc's control was not only over her mind, but her body as well.
She rubbed the spot, hoping that it wouldn't be seen by anyone. Most of all by her sisters. Dilys would make a scene and at the most inconvenient time. And then Rhiannon would pay for it later.

Rhoslyn, her maid, came into the room.
"Lord Castlemaine sent me to help you lace, Milady."
She could see Rhoslyn glance at Rhiannon's arm and bite her lip.
"Oh..this. Silly me. I ran into the casement window latch."
"Ye do that quite a bit, Milady. Always bumping into what you ought not. Ye be careful, Milady. I like you."
Rhoslyn met her eyes and Rhiannon nodded slowly. "Thank you, Rhoslyn. I shall. Now would  you help me into this dress?"
Rhoslyn blurted out, "That one?"
Rhiannon looked puzzled. "Yes. I don't like it much myself...."
"But--but that dress be HERS!"
Rhoslyn's eyes darted nervously to the window.
The window that overlooked the cemetery.

Rhiannon dropped the dress as if it were on fire.
"You--you mean it was HERS?"
"Aye, milady. Lord Castlemaine bought it for her. She was wearing it the night she fell down the stairs. Broke her neck clean, it did."
Rhiannon gathered the dress up. "I refuse to wear the dress of a dead woman. Especially one who was wearing it when the incident that helped her shed this mortal coil  occurred.  And I don't care if I get....never mind. I know what to do."

With determination, Rhiannon took the dress and held it oh, so carefully to the fire.
Rhoslyn's eyes grew round.
"Milady..don't..."
Rhiannon took the dress with the singed front.
"Oh, dear. Look what happened. I guess I warmed myself in front of the fire too closely. It appears to be ruined. Now, if Lord Vinegar---if Lord Madoc wants my portrait, he will have to settle for the deep purple one. Oh, and lace me tight. VERY tight. I may as well show my best side to the painter. Lord Castlemaine doesn't want to see the portrait until it is done. A nice surprise for the lord, don't you think?"

She knew she would pay dearly for her rebellion but she didn't care. All she knew was that she was in a hopeless situation and this was one small amount of control she had over her own life.

If only you had taken me with you, Rhys.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"NO!!  PLEASE NO! DON'T!"

The scream from his wife woke Jack out of a sound sleep.
"Honour? Honour! Shhh....my darling, it is just a nightmare. Hush...I'm here."
He gently rocked her as she sobbed in her twilight sleep.
"I--I'm sorry, " she could barely whisper.
He made soothing sounds but it didn't help the worried look on his face.
"Honour," he said gently, "perhaps you should talk to someone about these nightmares. A priest, if you have one handy. Or maybe Megan and you can get to the root of them. Or you could talk to me..."

From the nursery, Zara began to cry.
Honour started to get up.
"No, don't, Honour. I'll tend to her."
She laid back against the pillow and tried to get herself under control. Within a few minutes, Jack came back to bed, holding Zara.
"I guess she woke up when you screamed. But Mummy is alright now, isn't she, precious?"
Jack handed Zara to her and then got back into bed.
"This bed seems to be big enough for all of us, wouldn't you say? Just this once?"

Honour held her baby close to her, trying not to cry. She kissed the top of her head and tucked her in between the both of them. Jack looked over at Zara and put his finger up to where she could clutch it.  Sleepily, Zara took his finger and held tight.
Jack smiled gently at Honour and said, "Are you alright now, love?"
She managed a smile. "Jack, I will be fine. I just had an intense dream."
Jack stroked her cheek. "Want to tell me about it?"
She sighed. "It was kind of jumbled. I --I was just in a trap and couldn't escape. But I am alright now."
"Is it always the same dream?"
"Pretty much. I'm like a wounded animal and my way out is suddenly taken away from me and I feel so...helpless."
"Honour, talk to a priest if it will help. Or even me."
She shook her head.
"There is nothing to talk about. Jack, it is just something that I have had since I was a child."
"Is it about your mother?" he said gently.
Honour shrugged and yawned. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"
He kissed the top of her head and said, "Yes, my dear. Now get some sleep."
But she didn't reply.
She was already sound asleep.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Hudgins knocked three times on the study door and entered to find Rose contemplating a book and her usual cognac.  He waited dutifully for her to acknowledge his presence before clearing his throat.  Finally she looked up.
"Yes, Hudgins?  What is it?"
"A letter arrived for you, Countess."
Rose's eyes lit up.  Letters usually meant a solicitation for patronage or an invitation to a ball.  She hoped it was the latter.  She put down her book and took  the envelope from him.
"Thank you, Hudgins.  That will be all."
Hudgins bowed slightly at the waist and left the study.  Rose examined the envelope.  It was simply addressed.

The Countess Carlisle
Tyneforthe Hall
Shrewsbury, Shropshire, England

The only clue as to who it might be from was the wax seal on the back with its single letter "L".

She went to a small writing bureau and fetched a letter opener with which she broke the seal.  Hurriedly, Rose opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.  Just as she had hoped, it was an invitation to Bancroft Hall in Wales.  Lord and Lady Llewellyn's annual Winter ball, the premier gala of the season.  Megan and Daffyd always threw the most delightful soirées.  Anyone who was anyone would be there.  Rose had missed the previous year's ball due to a lingering illness, but she would not miss this year's event.  Besides, there was always the chance  of some new revelation about that nasty little scandal involving Megan's younger sister a few years ago.  While Rose had never cared much for the impetuous  young woman, there was a begrudging respect for her spirit.  Her eyes lit up as she read the invitation.  Beaumaris!  She had almost forgotten that's where the Llewellyn's lived.  That's where Drake had told her his ship was docked.  Where Jack's ship was docked.  Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone; attend the ball, and see an old flame?

Rose gave an urgent tug on the bell ribbon, and within a minute Hudgins was at the door of the study.
"Yes, madame?  What may I get for you?"
"Hudgins, have you seen my brother about?"
"Yes, madame.  I left him in the west library.  Shall I fetch him?"
"No, that's quite all right," she said as she brushed past him.  "I'll see him myself."
"Is there a problem, madame?" Hudgins called after her.
"Not at all!" replied Rose, never breaking stride.  "In fact, things couldn't be better!"

She quietly pushed open the door to the library.  There was her brother, seated before the fireplace with a large stack of books and a tray of tea.  Rose cleared her throat to catch his attention.
"Pardon me, Drake.  Am I interrupting?" she asked sweetly.
Duckie looked up from his book and smiled.  "Rose!  I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in!  I was lost in thought.  You never told me Edwin had an interest in botany!  He has a fantastic collection of books on the subject, and his notes are exhaustive..."
"Yes, yes," she interrupted.  "Take any of them you want for your library.  They're just gathering dust here."
"Rose, I couldn't---"
"Drake, you'll be doing me a favour.  But enough about the silly books.  I have an important question to ask you."
Duckie put down the book he had been reading and gave her his full attention.  "All right then.  What has you so excited?"
Rose quickly sat down in the chair next to his.  "When do you need to be back in to your ship?"
He gave her a puzzled look.  "Just over two weeks from now.  Why?  Are you in a hurry to get rid of me?"
"Not at all!  You're a positively delightful guest, in spite of being my brother."  She held up the invitation.  "I've just received an invitation to a ball in two weeks that I simply cannot and will not miss.  Care to guess where it takes place?"
Duckie could feel a knot begin to form in his stomach.  "Beaumaris?"
"Yes!" she chirped excitedly.  "Isn't that a wonderful coincidence?"
"That's one way of looking at it."
"You simply must be my escort, Drake!  I won't have it any other way."
"Of course you wouldn't."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean, of course I'll be your escort," he recovered.  "But I'm afraid I didn't bring proper clothing for a social engagement..."
"Never you worry!  I know a marvellous tailor in London.  I'll send for him straight away.  I insist!"
"That's very generous of you Rose, but you needn't go to such lengths for me."
"Nonsense, Drake!  You'll be accompanying a countess.  I wouldn't do for you to be dressed in anything but the finest."
"No, I suppose it wouldn't," he said with a hint of resignation.  Duckie couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.

[Welsh Wench]

Three days later~~

Honour, it's so cold out. Are you sure you want to go?"
"Jack, Taffy Farmington sent me an invitation to tea. And I already accepted. In this neck of the woods, a change of heart is considered a kiss of death."
"Then I'll take you in the carriage. You will stay warmer."
"No, darling. I will be fine. I've been riding since I was three. And I have my cloak and a muff to keep my hands warm. Goodness, Megan's mare knows the way by heart. And I need you to watch Zara. Megan has too much to do with the ball. The nanny is busy with Morwenna and Dylan and Zara is asleep. So find something to amuse yourself and I will be back in a few hours."
Jack looked at the chest in the corner.
"I suppose I could look at the scrolls."
She gave him a quick kiss and said, "Now you are talking! Put the quiet time to good use. I should be back by five o'clock."
He drew her cloak up around her neck and tied it securely.
"Be careful then."

Honour had the mare saddled and ready in fifteen minutes.
"Thank you, Harrison. I'll take good care of her."
Harrison tipped his cap. "I know ye will, Ma'am."
She patted Domino and whispered, "Change of plans, Domino. Let's go."
She cleared the barn door and kicked the mare's flanks gently. She galloped across the pasture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There it stood, its imposing dark turrets grasping towards the heavens in a sinister reach. Honour sat there on the mare, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. She gazed at it, trying to look at it with an objective eye. The mare stood still, not moving a muscle. Almost as if she sensed the foreboding of the castle.
Rhiannon stared at the cold grey stones and took a deep breath.
'If I am ever to put this behind me--a stop to the nightmares---I need to confront this now.'

She thought back to the night before. She and Megan had finally talked about that fateful night. Megan had tactfully never brought it up. In fact, she referred to it as 'that unfortunate incident' as if it were a glass of spilled claret on a snowy white tablecloth.
Honour and Jack had spent a delightful evening in their rooms by themselves after dinner. Jack had played on the floor with Zara, watching as she tried to pull herself up on the furniture but always plopping down before she was able to stand.

"Give her time, Jack. She will be standing by herself inside of a fortnight."
"I know you are right. But she's a Wolfe. Isn't she brilliant?"
Honour had to agree. After Zara had been put to bed, she and Jack sat before the fire, sipping on brandy and warming themselves before the fire.
The night ended like it usually did, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.
And then it happened.
The nightmares began again.

She bit her lip as she thought back to the terror of the night. It was always the same. Details were still hazy but it always ended with her screaming. Jack always held her and gently rocked her as he would Zara after she had come out of it. He had been most understanding but he thought it had to do with the death of her mother. And she couldn't tell him what was the cause.
Not now.
Not ever.

Honour dismounted the mare and tied her to the tree to the right of the gate, its gnarled and twisted trunk almost a reflection of what had dwelled there.
She patted the horse on the nose and said softly, "I won't be long, Domino.'
She looked up at the house, almost as if she could feel the evil that had emanated within.
Taking a deep breath she walked over to the massive gate of the estate. The latch was rusted, the wrought iron hung on its hinges. She pushed with all her might with her shoulder and was able to budge it enough to squeeze her slim  body through.
But she wasn't quite prepared for what she saw out back.
The cemetery.

Having come over from France with William the Conqueror, the Castlemaines were a force to be reckoned with in the shire. So much so that the church's consecrated ground was not even good enough for them.
Honour willed herself to walk forward even though her first instinct was to run.
The wrought iron gate surrounded the stones that looked like mushrooms that had sprung up through the snow. There were maybe fifty of them.

Madoc's first wife was buried there. Honour had always found it disconcerting, knowing that their chamber window faced the graveyard and Madoc's wife was there, as if watching Honour take her place at Madoc's side.
And in his bed.

Honour's boots crunched on the hard packed snow underneath the layers of softly dusted powder. A light snow was coming down, falling softly as if to muffle the whispers and uttered judgements of the deceased. Steadily she walked forward, glancing at the mare to make sure she was still there. Domino's breath came in white puffs as her warm breath condensed in the cold air.
Honour put her hand on the gate. It hung loosely and she pushed, a soft groan of metal on metal, as if it protested the intrusion of the living.
She looked at the dates on the stones, the history of the family written for all time in slate and marble. Castlemaines whose lives were played out only through their epitaphs, giving no clue as to what they were like. Who they loved. Or who they hated.

And then she saw it.

It was of marble and perhaps eight feet tall. On it was carved the name.

 
Lord Madoc Castlemaine

As if he was Lord of the dead.
She felt as if he were watching, knowing she was there but not to pay her respects. Honour self-consciously stepped away from the grave, almost as if afraid he would reach up from the dark earth and grab her, dragging her to his hellish grave.
'So you did get a decent burial after all. You bastard. I hope you are roasting where I know you are.' She felt her hands clamp in fisted rage as she confronted the monument to the man who sought to lay her in the ground instead of himself.

She turned quickly, forcing herself to walk slowly and deliberately out of the graveyard, the trees swaying in the winter wind, howling as if in mourning.
She knew there was only one more step to do for closure.
She had to go inside the castle.

[Welsh Wench]

 
She practically tore the iron gate from its hinges in her haste to leave the cemetery.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as the cold air hit her air passages, leaving her with a feeling of suffocation. She willed herself to slow her breathing and gained control of it.

Domino patiently pawed the ground, the snow making shallow trenches. Honour looked up at the sky. She had forgotten that the gloam of twilight on a Welsh night came earlier than the pink and orange hues of a Caribbean sunset and suddenly she was wishing she was back to the place that had felt like home to her.
But she had to see this through.

Honour carefully walked up the massive stone steps that led to a heavy English oak door. She lifted the latch on the front door. To her surprise, it was not rusted yet it creaked in protest as if it were disturbed from a one-hundred year sleep.
The light barely streamed through the narrow windows but still the shadows played on the wall, as if fingers could reach out and close around your throat. Honour felt around the lintel and her hand found what it was looking for.
A candle and a box of flints. She struck one on the cold stone wall and sparked it, then held the flame to the wick. She blew it out and put the candle in the holder that was always on the library table next to the door. She held it aloft to better see the room where she had been forced to play Lady of the Manor and was expected to greet Madoc's guests.
'How was I supposed to act, Madoc? I was only seventeen years old.'

Cobwebs covered the furniture. She shuddered as her eyes wandered over to the wingback chair that Madoc had always sat in. A book lay by the table, face down and open as if waiting patiently for the reader to resume his place.
A place that the reader would never come back to.

The fireplace had the burnt embers of a fire spent. Her eyes followed upwards and what she saw next, she gasped in disbelief.

It wasn't so much viewing the portrait of her that Madoc had commissioned to have painted that frightened her. It was what had been done to it.
It had been rent from top to bottom and slashed crosswise and diagonally, till its canvas lay in tattered strips. A dagger lay embedded where her heart would have been.

Honour reluctantly drew her eyes away from the defaced painting. The shadow the furniture cast upon the walls gave the room an eerie feeling. She couldn't help but look at the grand staircase that split into two directions midway. As she did, she could almost hear Rhys's voice and smell the fresh sea with a touch of horse and leather that was Rhys.  A scent that never failed to make her blood race.

Her feet felt like lead but she willed them to lead her to confronting her past, once and for all times. Her footsteps echoed in the hollowness of the room as she climbed the steps slowly, the candle dripping wax from the wick. She breathed deeply and as she came to the bedchamber, she rested her hand on the door post.
Cautiously she opened the door.

The room stood almost exactly as she had left it that night. The dresser drawers were left open where she had emptied them in her haste to flee. The armoire door was open and a few pieces of finery were still scattered on the floor.  She held the candle aloft and her eyes followed the glow.
To the featherbed.
But with one change.
The sheets were gone.

Her eyes roamed over the room, cobwebs draping from the corners and the furniture like spun out of the remnants of despair that hung in the room. She cried out loud when she saw something against the wall.
Bloodstains.

Her aim was true that night, driven out of self-preservation. Madoc stared at her in disbelief for what seemed like a minute but was in actuality only seconds. His hand touched her bodice dagger as if he couldn't believe it. He was thrown back against the wall, his lifeblood seeping quickly, taking his life force with it. He reached out to her in supplication, the blood bubbling forth from his lips. He tried to form her name with his lips. He slid down the wall and then fell forward on the stone floor. She sat there on the bed, her eyes were wide with horror.

She tore her gaze away from the stains and her eye caught something near the baseboard. She reached over and picked it up. Turning it over in her hands, she recognized it.
It was the ring that Rhys had always worn, the crest of the Morgan family engraved on it. Her eyes filled with tears.

He whispered, "I know it's fatal, my love."
"Rhys. Rhys, please. Don't leave me. I love you."
"I love you too, Rhiannon."

The ghosts of the past were proving too much for Honour. She stood up and hurried across the room. As she walked by, a screeching noise was heard from inside the chimney.
She screamed and ran out as fast as she could, not stopping for anything. She ran down the stairs at breakneck speed and flung the door open.
Mounting Domino in one quick motion, she kicked the horse in the flanks and fled from Castlemaine as fast as the mare would take her.

The castle stood in the gloam of the evening, never giving up its secrets save one.
The cat climbed out of the chimney and hurried off in search of mice.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Harrison finished filling a feeding manger with hay and gave the young gelding a pat on the neck as the horse enjoyed its afternoon meal.  The stable master had just latched the stall door when he spied Honour and Domino charging up the manor's lane toward the stable, the snow kicked into a white cloud around the mare's legs as they flew.  The scene played out before him just as his mentor, Parry, had described as happening a hundred times or more when Honour was a young girl, and he wasn't surprised to see it happening again.  Harrison could only wonder what manner of devilment she had gotten herself into this time.

"Tommy, get that door open wide!  She's coming in fast!" Harrison ordered the stable hand.  The younger man dropped his water bucket and shoved the stable door open as wide as it would go.  Honour had to pull back hard on the reins with all her might to get Domino slowed to a trot as they came into the stable.  Harrison was there to help calm the horse, just as Parry had done after one of Honour's exploits.
"Is everything all right, ma'am?" he asked, knowing full well from the look on her face it wasn't.  "I don't know who's puffing harder, you or Domino!  You were riding as if the devil himself was hot on your heels."
"Maybe he was," answered Honour quietly.
"Pardon, ma'am?  I don't hear nearly as good as I used to."
Honour shook her head and feigned a smile.  "Not this time, Harrison," she said a little louder.  "I'm sorry for riding her so hard.  Please take care of her?  I need to find my daughter." With that, she dismounted and hurried off to the main house.
"Aye, ma'am, it'll be done," Harrison answered after her.  He shook his head and stroked the mare's neck.  Even now, Lord Conaway's rebellious daughter was full of mysteries.

Honour hurried into the house, shedding her coat and gloves as she went.  She guessed that Jack would be in the library, his second favourite place in the manor after their bedroom.  All she wanted at that moment was to be in the comforting arms of her husband, for she knew his touch would banish the nightmare she'd just relived.  Her guess was right.  She paused at the doorway, and felt the ancient knot in her stomach begin to unravel as she took in the sight of her husband and child playing on the floor.  Jack was sitting crossed-legged on the oriental rug.  Zara was standing unsteadily in front of him, holding on to Jack's upraised fingers for support.  Jack was beaming at his precious daughter, and Zara was watching her father's face intently as he spoke and cooed to her.  Jack caught sight of Honour at the door, and he gently helped Zara sit down.  He gave Zara her favourite toy, the stuffed bunny, and quickly crossed the room to embrace his wife.

"There you are!" he said happily.  "I was beginning to worry!  What's wrong?  You're shaking like a leaf!"
Honour rested her head against Jack's shoulder and watched Zara.  "I'm fine.  Just a little shaken is all.  Domino spooked at something on the road, and it's been a while since I've ridden..."
Jack stroked her hair and looked at her with concern.  "Are you you sure you're all right?  She didn't throw you, did she?"
Honour shook her head and gave a nervous smile.  "I'm fine, Jack.  Honestly fine.  Just.. hold me."
He wrapped his arms around her, and after a few moments he could feel Honour relax.  As he held her, Jack drank in the subtle scent of jasmine she always wore.  "I'm going to do you one better," he said with a gleam in his eye.
He broke gently away from Honour and scooped Zara and her bunny up in his arms.  "There's my girl!  Mummy had a little scare.  Let's both make her feel better, shall we?"  Jack carried Zara in one arm, and he slipped the other around Honour's waist and drew her close.  Zara chewed on the bunny's ear, then held the toy out to her mother with a giggle.  Honour laughed and kissed the rabbit on the nose, eliciting a happy squeal from their daughter.

Honour sighed and gazed upon her little family.  Already, the frightening events of the afternoon were fading like ghosts.  This was her life now, not the  miserable existence she had known with Madoc or the unrealised dreams with Rhys.  This was real.  This was what she had been running toward all her life.  A loving husband and a beautiful child.  The past happened to someone else, someone named Rhiannon who had run away a long time ago.  Honour Wolfe had the whole world before her.
"Feeling better?" Jack asked.
Honour nodded and kissed Jack tenderly.  "I'm perfect now," she said with a contented smile.

[Welsh Wench]

"Do you think the silver candlesticks or the crystal ones would look better, Daffyd?"
"My dear, are you ever going to stop fretting over the Winter Ball?"
Daffyd lit his pipe and smiled indulgently at his wife.
Megan frowned, "I just want it to be the ball that everyone will take about, that's all."
"Megan, they already are talking about it."
"Did you and Jack have a nice time at the horse breeder's?"
Daffyd nodded. "We did. Lord, I like that man. Very knowledgeable. Oxford-educated, you know. Had the makings of a fine professor."
"So what happened?"
"He's not saying much about it. Guess it was maybe just a case of wanderlust and trying to find himself."

Daffyd picked up the list.  "Countess Carlisle?  Edwin died, do you still keep in contact with his wife?"
"I owe her a social obligation, Daffyd."
He groaned, "When will it ever end?"
"Probably never. Do we have enough wine in the cellar?"
"For who, Countess Carlisle? But yes, we do. There is enough sherry and claret to service the entire fleet of ships parked in the harbor. Most are waiting in the harbor for the ice floes to melt so they can sail off to warmer weather.  The storm a few weeks ago caught them all by surprise."
"I'll miss Rhiannon when she leaves. Jack and especially Zara."
"We still have them till Jack's friend comes back from Amsterdam with the ship."

Daffyd sat down in front of the fire and took off his shoes, warming his feet.
"Aaaah! And were is the happy little family now?"
"Jack took Rhiannon to town to look at fabric for a dress and also some new clothes for Zara. The child is growing so fast she will be out of her clothes in a month."
"Do you feel good about Zara and Rhiannon being on a pirate ship, dear?"
Megan sighed. "Daffyd, Rhiannon has gone through so much. I haven't seen her this happy since...."
"I know. But that happiness was tainted with good old-fashioned St Brigid guilt and then there was..,.you know...adultery."
Megan replied, "Adultery is such a harsh word. And I am of the opinion that it doesn't apply in this case. Rhiannon was practically forced into marriage to Madoc. Imagine a seventeen-year-old girl married to an old man of forty-seven!"
Daffyd chuckled, "I am surprised she didn't kill him!"
Megan slapped his arm in mock outrage. "That is my sister you are talking about! Madoc kept Rhiannon isolated. I think the only time I saw her in the six months she was married to the monster was at a few balls. Madoc wouldn't let any of us near her.  Except that Dilys went ahead and literally shoved Madoic aside to talk to Rhiannon."
Daffyd laughed, "I remember that! Madoc about turned purple with apoplexy!"
Megan continued, "We were never able to find out how she was, how Madoc was treating her or if she needed anything."
Daffyd took a draw on his pipe. "Except for the ball where he unveiled her portrait.  Lord, I swear I will never forget the look on Madoc's face when finally saw it!"
Megan sniffed, "Serves him right for not looking at it before he threw his big soiree."
Daffyd shrugged, "Yes but you know the mighty Lord Castlemaine always had to do things in a grand way. And Rhiannon was just something to wave under the noses of the shire. He had a young--very young---beautiful wife to beget heirs on.
"Wasn't the three he had with the first Lady Castlemaine enough for him?"
"Apparently not. I'm just pleased as can be that Rhiannon never had children by him. Little sour pusses, they would be. Even with Rhiannon as their mother."

Daffyd got up to put a few more logs on the fire.
"She's happy. Jack is good for her. And they love each other. It's a damn shame Jack Wolfe didn't come into her life instead of Rhys Morgan."
Megan took up her needlepoint.
"From what Rhiannon has said, Rhys was good and kind and gentle. He loved her, Daffyd. And the guilt is still with her.  I don't know if it will ever leave her entirely. She was even able to talk about it now."
"What did she say?"
"She was convinced she saw Rhys Morgan when they were in the Azores."

They were both quiet. Daffyd broke the silence. 
"Do you think you should tell her the truth about what really happened that night?"
Megan looked up and said in a steely voice, "No. She is truly happy for the first time in her life. Let sleeping dogs lie."
He poured himself another brandy. "I agree. No good can come of it. Why should the happiness of Rhiannon and Jack--and especially Zara's future--be compromised? You're right, darling. We let the dead bury the dead."

[Welsh Wench]

"Come on, darling! You can do it!"
Honour was standing behind Zara holding her hands. Jack sat about five feet away with his arms outstretched. Zara looked up at her mother's face bending over her, a tentative look on her face.
"Come on, sweetheart--come to Da!"
Zara looked at her father, a look of determination crossing her delicate features. Honour had to stifle a giggle as she whispered, "I've seen that look before! You can't deny her as your daughter, Jack Wolfe!"

Zara put one foot out and then wobbled. Honour tightened her grip on her little daughter's hand until she regained her balance.
Jack sat there and gave her an encouraging look and wiggled his fingers towards her. She put one foot in front of the other and Honour gently slid her fingers out from Zara's fists.
Zara took three steps and fell forward just as Jack caught her.
"Oh, my little girl! Did you see that? Did you see how brave she was?"
Honour laughed. "She had to do it eventually, Jack. But at least her daddy was there to catch her!"
He hugged her close and she patted his face.
"Do you think she will do it again?"
"I have no doubt, dear. Now that she knows she can do it,  she won't be afraid."
"She never was afraid. After all, she's a Wolfe!"
"I think for that she deserves a cookie!" Honour laughed.
"Good thinking! A thin mint cookie would be an incentive to keep trying."
"Jack, she's done it once and knows she can do it again. She will continue to walk now."

Just then there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Jack called.
Megan came in, a few boxes in her arms.
"Rhiannon, these were just delivered from Madame Doucet. I do believe it is the dress you ordered for the winter ball."
Honour jumped up. "Oh, my goodness! And in record time, too!"
"She always was your favorite seamstress when you were ma----when you were masquerading at the balls in London."
Honour shot her a look and hurriedly took the box from Megan.
"I'm sorry!" Megan whispered.
"What are you two whispering about?" Jack looked up from holding his little girl.
"Nothing you need to know about, Mr. Wolfe!" Megan laughed a bit too quickly.
"I can't wait to try it on!"
"I'll help you."
"Jack, could you please watch Zara for about fifteen minutes and then bring her upstairs?"
Jack was already on the floor playing with his daughter.
"No problem. And don't I get to see you in that dress?"
"No! Not until the ball. You can wait another week."

Megan shut the door behind them.
"Rhiannon, I'm sorry. I almost let it slip out."
"I know. That was really close."
"I don't agree with you keeping your marriage to Madoc a secret from Jack."
"Megan, I HAVE to. It would lead to more questions."
"The more you try to keep a secret, the more it wants to get out, Rhiannon."
"I know. I'll worry about that later and....oh! Look at this!"

Honour opened the box and drew out a dress of burgundy peau de soie with a fitted bodice and a skirt that dropped and flared.
"Oh, Rhiannon! How gorgeous!"
She lifted it and held it against her. "Jack will love this!" she breathed. Megan rolled her eyes. "Rhiannon, I swear, the two of you---"
"---are enjoying our time together without the crew. I can't wait to get back to Barbados and raise Zara there."
"And what about little wolfes? Any plans for a pack?"
Rhiannon laughed. "You never know, Megan. "
Megan wrinkled her nose. "I wouldn't be surprised to see you have a litter!"
"A litter of what?"
Jack had opened the door, his arms full of baby.
Megan hastily shoved the dress in the box and Rhiannon sat quickly on it, the lid bouncing up and hitting her in the arse.
"A litter of kittens. Megan thinks that Mittens is expecting. May I have one?"
Jack sighed. "Honour, we won't be here that long. We leave the day after the ball. Briggs is scheduled to come back then. I got a letter from him."
Honour sighed. "Alright. But when we get back to Barbados, I want a kitten. For Zara."
"Uh huh. For Zara. And what would Puddin' think?"
"Well, we just don't tell him!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honour laid Zara down in her crib and covered her up gently. Jack leaned against the doorframe.
"I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful sight."
"She's getting so big now. Not a baby anymore. A toddler."

"Do you want to try for another child, Honour?"
She smiled. "Let's take it slower, Captain. After all, we have only been reunited for about six weeks now!"
He sighed. "I just missed so much that I don't want to miss anymore. I'm not getting any younger."
"She's not even a year old, Jack. Let's enjoy her. And each other."
"How old was your father when you were born, Honour?"
"I don't know....I guess he was around thirty-four."
"Thirty-four and he had four daughters. I'm thirty-six and have only one."
"Let's get settled in Barbados first."
"You never talk about your father. What is he like?"
"Bold. Arrogant. Stubborn. Lord of the Manor."
"When was the last time you saw him? When you left St Brigid's?"
"Jack, why all the questions?"
"I just want to know what he is like. Would I like him?"
"No," she said curtly.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't."
"But, Honour, it's your father."
She turned on Jack and said, "I don't want to talk about him."
"What are the chances of me meeting him someday?"
"Don't bet the ship on it. Jack, let's just get back to Barbados."
He kissed her and held her close. "I understand. I miss the Caribbean. And I can't wait to get into that plantation you bought. It may not be Monsieur Picou's, but I bet it comes close."
"Very close, darling. VERY close!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack knocked quietly at the door to Daffyd's study.  Daffyd was sitting at his desk.  He was slouched a bit in his chair as he looked over a handful of papers, deep in thought.  The desk itself was littered with even more documents, along with a few map-reading instruments.  A glass of brandy was at his elbow.  Jack started to knock again, but felt himself involuntarily laugh.  Daffyd looked up from his papers and smiled.
"Was I doing something funny, Jack?"
"No, no.  Not at all.  When I saw you there, and the state of your desk – not at all unlike mine – I think I got a pretty good impression of how my quartermaster feels on entering my cabin.  Though Briggs is much noisier."
Daffyd chuckled as he sat up.  "Megan is constantly at me to organise myself better.  But I work more comfortably this way.  Brandy?"
"Always," he said cheerily.  He came into the room and took the seat across from his brother-in-law.
Daffyd offered Jack the glass.  "I suppose you get the same helpful hints from Rhiannon?"
That made Jack blink as he reconciled his wife's 'real' name in his head.  Though he had been immersed for weeks in a world where everyone knew her as Rhiannon, she would always be Honour to him.  "Always!" he laughed.  "Would she be a Conaway sister if she didn't?"
Lifting his glass, Daffyd toasted, "To being property of the Sisters Conaway!  A most delightful state to be in."
"Here, here!  I have to admit a certain gratification that my approach to paperwork isn't much different from that of a lord."
"And why should it be different?  You're lord of your ship and master of what goes on aboard her.  Fundamentally, Jack, we're not that different, you and I.  We're both men of responsibility and position.  With all the joys and tribulations that go long with the rank."
Jack smiled ruefully.  "Good point.  But many people take a dim view of my position in this world."
"Don't forget, a certain amount of political power goes along with my birthright.  People take an even dimmer view of that, especially these days."

"Daffyd, I want to thank you again for showing me such kindness and hospitality.  And for taking care of Zara whilst Hon-- Rhiannon and I were... going through our difficulties."
"When are you going to stop thanking Megan and me for that?  Jack, you're family.  You're married to my sister-in-law, and that means something in this house.  To be sure, it was a surprise to find you at her side when she returned to us.  But I'm a pretty good judge of character.  Megan even more so.  From what we've seen, you're a fine man, a loving husband and father.  Rhiannon is happy.  That speaks the loudest truth."
Jack sipped his brandy and thought a moment.  "You know, I think that's one of the finest compliments I've ever been given.  Now if I can continue to live up to it."
"Oh, you will.  A disappointed Conaway sister is nothing to trifle with."
"How well I know," said Jack over another sip.

"So, what is on your mind?  You're too forthright a man to engage in chitchat for a spot of brandy."
"That's what I like about you, Daffyd.  To the point," laughed Jack.  "Our conversation the other day about your horse breeding philosophy got me thinking."
"How so?  Are you thinking of giving up the sea and becoming a horse breeder?"
Jack smiled and shook his head.  "No, not bloody likely!  Far too much salt in these veins.  But you said something that really hit home with me.  'Form to function'.  That's a principle my father preached about the design of ships."
"I can see how the mindset would be similar.  Ships are built for specific tasks, just as horses are bred for certain roles, right?  Only in my case, every attempt at a new, improved model is a roll of the dice.  There's more art than science behind the business of horseflesh."
"No more than in the world of shipbuilding, my friend.  There are a great many exciting ideas that end up useless failures once they've been built and put to the test.  But that's neither here nor there.  You've been so kind as to show me your world of horses, I'd like to return the favour."
Daffyd took some brandy.  "I'm not sure I follow."
"I have to go down to the port tomorrow and pay El Lobo's fees in advance so she can dock properly instead of having to ride at anchor out in the harbour like some common barge.  I was wondering if you'd like to join me on a small foray into my world?"

Daffyd's eyes lit up.  "Of course I would!  When do we leave?"
"Right after breakfast.  I figure with the ladies wrapped up in preparations for the ball, a gentlemen's day away is in order."
"Ah, but there's that one little lady I never thought you'd tear yourself away from."
Jack smiled proudly.  "That's one of the reasons we'll be back tomorrow evening.  The other will be tired of party plans."
"You've really taken to fatherhood quite handily, Jack.  Better than most, I dare say."
"I never imagined I would.  When Honour-- there I go again..."
"No," chuckled Daffyd.  "I'm sure that when she came back into your life, it's been nonstop adjustments.
"Truer words were never spoken.  When she told me we have Zara, I have to admit, I was scared to death."
"And how do you feel now that you've actually held her?"
"On top of the world," said Jack.  "And still scared to death."
"Get used to it.  That is a feeling that will never quite go away.  I dread the day suitors start coming round."
"I don't even want to think about that!"
"You've got a few years before you have to add that worry!  I hear she took her first step a day or so ago?"
Jack beamed with pride.  "She did!  She was absolutely brilliant, Daffyd."
"Did she get that incredibly determined look on her face?"
"That's the one!  I'm so glad I could be here to see it."  Jack took another sip of brandy.  "I've missed so much.  Her birth, her first tooth..."
"She's got a lifetime of firsts ahead of her.  And you're here to witness them," said Daffyd gently.  "Help her through those, safe and happy as you can.  That's all that really matters."

"You make it sound so easy."
Daffyd shook his head.  "It is the hardest job imaginable.  And the most rewarding.  Have you and Rhiannon talked about having any more?"
"We did last night, as a matter of fact.  But really, we're just getting reacquainted.  That's where our attention needs to be.  There, and with little Zara."
Jack gave a quizzical look as Daffyd chuckled.
"What?" asked Jack.  "Did I say something funny?"
"You really can't say Zara's name without smiling!  Megan mentioned it to me yesterday, and she's right!  It's the grandest thing."
"'Zara'," said Jack, and he paid attention to muscles in his face as he did so.  The discovery made him laughed softly.  "No, I guess I can't!"
"Well, no matter.  Rhiannon is young.  You'll have plenty of time for more when the Lord decides to bless you again."
"I think that deserves a toast."
"Right you are!" said Daffyd as he filled their glasses.  "To the Wolfes among us," he intoned.   "May the pack continue to grow and prosper!"

The following morning, Jack was in his and Honour's room collecting the funds he would need to pay the port authority.  As he counted out the fee, plus a bit more just in case, he heard the door quietly open behind him.  Honour stepped into the room with a bright-eyed Zara on her hip.
"There's my girls!" said Jack merrily.
Honour smiled.  "Are you sure you're taking enough?" she asked.
"Don't worry, love.  I'm taking along some extra.  You know how port towns can be."
"There's always that one wheel that wants some grease, I know," she sighed.  "Daffyd is excited to be going along.  How long do you think you'll be?"
Jack stroked her hair and looked lovingly into her eyes.  "We'll be home before supper.  I can't bear the thought of being apart from either of you longer than that."
Honour returned her husband's gaze.  "I thought last night would have tided you over."
"Not a chance," he said, and kissed her lips tenderly, then with a little more insistence.

"Da!" interjected Zara.  She waved her free arm at her side as if to further ensure she had her amorous parent's attention.
"You know," said Jack, "I think she's beginning to get wise to us!"  He tickled Zara's ribs, making her giggle and squeal.
"I think she has, too!  Somebody likes being the centre of attention, doesn't she?" Honour cooed.  "All right, no brothers or sisters for you..."  She gave Jack a wink.  "Not yet, anyway."
"Now darling, you know what they say about practice making perfect."
"And you, Captain Wolfe, have ship's business to attend!  Now GO!  Shoo!  Daffyd and the carriage are waiting.  Practice will have to wait."
"I'm going to hold you to that, sweetheart."
"You'd better!"  She gave Jack a quick kiss and took a step back.  "Now be careful."
Jack broke into a broad smile.  "I promise.  See you this evening!"  He paused before stepping into the hall.  "I love you, Honour."
"I love you, too, Jack."
Jack waved his hand goodbye at Zara, and she did her best to mimic the gesture.  As the door closed, Honour gently swayed too and fro, as if dancing with her small daughter.
"This is all so wonderful, Zara," she said to her giggling child.  "It's better than I could have dreamed.  I don't think I've ever been happier in my entire life!"