Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind comments in the Tea Room regarding posting the last few chapters of this story. I read each one, and I appreciated all of them. :) You all might remember my tendency for massive chapters, and so I've had to split this into two parts. The first section (the fishing trip in its entirety) is today's post. The next post will be Wednesday--Georgie's audition with Tye, and more Elizabeth and Darcy. I hope you all enjoy this :)
Chapter 38 Part 1
The stormy night ceded to a foggy day ashore. If you could call this fog, Will thought, squinting to see through the thick clouds obscuring their path. Pemberley had fog, a pale, hazy mist that gathered in the low valleys, burning up by mid day.
This was a wall of white. Stubborn, adaptable, swallowing everything in its path, even the light casting forth from the headlights. When Seamus's truck reached the harbor's edge, the only sight there to greet them was a dozen mastheads bobbing in an ocean clouds.
“Here we are,” announced Seamus, cutting the engine.
“And with your brother's car taking up the rear,” Will confirmed, finally allowing his muscles to relax. He'd kept half his brain on the treacherous road ahead, and the other half on the headlights of the car that trailed them.
He glanced in the rear view mirror to catch sight of their backseat passenger. Elizabeth's questioning eyes, bright in her worried face, sought his gaze in return.
“Loads of boats make port in this harbor,” Seamus remarked, pushing open his door. “Everything from small crabbers and skiffs, to larger trollers. We're getting a late start, though. Most commercial vessels are gone by sunrise.”
“The fog won't slow them?” Will questioned as he climbed from the truck. The fog revealed nothing. Not even the sea, stretching before them.
“A bit,” Seamus conceded.
“Not much choice, though,” Killian called out, emerging from the fog. Liam trailed behind him, carting a pile of life vets. “Half the island depends on the sea trade to put bread on their table.”
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was struggling to open the rusted backseat door. Will reached for the door handle. It opened with a rusty groan.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his outstretched hand as he helped her down. Her feet touched the slippery harbor planks. Rather than letting go, she kept her fingers entwined in his, holding tight. Killian, Seamus and Liam walked ahead, boarding the boat.
"Will." There were a dozen questions in her eyes, and more than a hint of worry. “You don't have to do this. You don't have to go.”
"Have you ever known me to participate in something I didn't want to do?"
“Once, actually," she mused as they walked down the dock. The fog was thinning as they neared the water, pushed about by the wind from the sea. A line of bobbing boats was coming in to view. "The night we met, you weren't too keen on going to that party.”
"True," he acknowledged, "but that turned out well enough in the end."
"Only after a dozen false starts," she laughed.
"Most activities improve after a few practice runs." he said mildly, squeezing her fingers. He was relaxing her, Elizabeth realized. She'd wanted to be the one calming him, and yet now that they were here, all she could do was worry. This had seemed like a decent enough idea last night. But what if her brothers were too hard on him? What if he hated fishing? What if he grew seasick?
"Tell me about your brother's ship," he said quietly. "Which one is it?"
"The white one," she said, leaning against him, "With the red and green flag atop it. Green Grainne, she's called."
Magnus, their ship's captain, had yet to board. Catching sight of the couple, he cast a curious glance to Will, and one to Elizabeth, too.
“Afraid you left your sea legs in London, little sister?” Magnus signed as he passed them.
Elizabeth shook her head, her fingers tightening in Will's grip.
Interesting, thought Magnus. She was unwilling to release Will's hand, even to talk to her own brother. That was more of an answer to his unspoken question than even Elizabeth realized.
“Eilis,” the deaf man spoke aloud. “I'll trust you to show Will how we undock the ship. Let him board, then I want you to cast the spring lines off and jump aboard yourself. After that, I'll need you in the wheelhouse.”
Magnus walked onward towards his ship, jogging up the ramp. His boat welcomed him with a slow list from side to side. The instructions he'd given Elizabeth and Will would keep the couple busy for the next few minutes, and offer Elizabeth something concrete to do so she could shake off her nerves. Meanwhile, Magnus could offer fair warning to his brothers.
The lads had assembled in the galley. Liam was looking longingly at the tea maker, too sleepy to go without, too lazy to make it himself. Killian was sorting fish hooks. Seamus was counting angling rods.
“How rough of a ride should we take him on?” questioned Killian. “Tide's still high enough south of here, and the edge of last night's storm front is probably still lingering there."
“We won't go south. We're headed west,” Magnus announced in a series of signs. “Calm waters and blue skies.”
“Ah, you're no fun,” remarked Liam. The youth leaned back in his chair, dragged his baseball cap from his head and balanced it over his eyes. "Wake me when we get there."
“If it counts for anything," Seamus added, "my money's on the Englishman, whether we head south or not. The man's got a steel spine, and no mistaking it. We met some poor road this morning, and he was steady as they come. He didn't flinch once.”
“I won't be able to judge is character until I've watched him do a hard day's work,” Killian admitted.
“Give him a fair chance,” Magnus warned. Seamus might be the eldest brother, but here aboard the ship, Magnus claimed captaincy. “If not just for himself, than for Eilis."
As far as Magnus was concerned, he'd seen the writing on the wall, and there was no mistaking it. Their sister, the Unsinkable Elizabeth Bennet, was completely and wholeheartedly in love.
***
Once they set sail, Will was due for a proper tour of the ship. And it was Magnus himself who would give it to him.
"Magnus, Will is waiting for you above deck,” Seamus said as he squeezed himself into the small wheelhouse. The brawny veterinarian could barely maneuver in this tiny room without bumping into something. “He seems keen on learning the workings of the ship. I was teaching him the difference between a clove hitch knot and a bow line. He caught on right away.”
When Elizabeth offered to tag along, Magnus laughed and pointed her towards the captain's chair.
"But I'd like to come," she said.
“Why?” Killian questioned plainly, glancing up from his seat at a nearby table. He'd taken up one of the small chairs clustered around it, intent on studying a tide table. Liam occupied the other chair.
“Because—because...” All four of her brothers were now staring at her. She both spoke and signed her answer. “Will doesn't know sign language.”
“Then Magnus won't use sign,” Seamus spoke up. He offered Elizabeth odd look. “And Will can manage for himself, lass.”
“But--”
“Eilis,” Magnus signed his answer to his sister. “I'll not throw your sweetheart overboard. You have my word on it. Radio the marina with our callsign in the meantime, will you?”
“But-” she signed. But he'd already departed. Arguing with a deaf man could be remarkably straightforward. Once he'd left your sightline, the conversation was well and truly over.
“I've never seen you so anxious on a boat before, Elizabeth,” Seamus observed plainly. “You capsized that kingfisher of yours in a squall, two leagues from shore, and handled it more calmly. Remember that?”
“I know, but--” she drummed her fingers nervously on the edge of the pilot's wheel. She'd forgotten how exasperating the presence of four level-headed brothers could be. “This is different.”
“Clearly,” Killian said dryly.
“Come along, Love,” Liam said, rousing himself to alertness for his sister's sake. “Magnus is a good sort, he'd like to get to know your fellow. And he asked you to use that beautiful voice of yours to radio our call-sign to the marina. Do that in the meantime.”
**
As for Will, unaware of the negotiations going on between below deck, he was finding his feet above. Literally.
He was a strong swimmer. He'd gone fishing in streams, he'd been sailing in rivers. He'd swum in the ocean and relaxed on the beach.
But he hadn't met the water headlong like this before. The greater the body of water, the larger his aversion to it. That fear grated on him.
Which was partly why he'd wanted to do this. Why he'd needed to. Elizabeth wasn't the only one who'd felt a jolt of fear this morning. She was just the only one to admit to it.
It wasn't the water that had caused the death of his family. It was the impact, the crush of the guardrail before the car teetered off the bridge.
But the water had damn well nearly done him in, and his sister with him. He had the scars to show for it. If his fear wasn't rational, nothing was.
Still, he reminded himself, he'd never let fear beat him yet. And today wasn't his day to start.
“Will,” Magnus touched his arm. “Ready to meet the ship?”
Will pushed from the rail. “More than ready.”
They began with the engine room, the heart of the ship. A new engine, Magnus explained. New on a relative scale, anyway. They're replaced it three years back. It was a large investment, Magnus confessed, one that was still cutting in to his quarterly profits.
"Is your interest rate fixed," Will asked. "Or variable?"
"Variable," Magnus admitted. "I'm not one for numbers either. I've been making monthly payments to the bank, but it doesn't seem to make much of a dent."
"Do you have the paperwork aboard?"
"Sure," Magnus said.
"If we have some free time, maybe I could look at it?"
Next came the holding room. It was a frigid space, currently absent of fish, but packed with ice nonetheless.
“Stability is key,” Magnus explained. "Three weeks at sea can yield a hundred pounds of fish, but we have to make sure we keep the cargo packed properly. The steel mast connects to the boom chain, and that keeps our balance, but the foundation keeps us steady. An uneven distribution of weight, and we could capsize.”
Just what he wanted to hear.
Next came the cramped galley, with a kitchenette on one end and a pair of bunkbeds on the other. The cots were bolted to the wall. They would rock and sway with every shift in the changing currents.
It was a dimly lit room, with only two portholes. Perhaps to compensate for the cramped atmosphere, they'd adorned the walls with pictures. Faded Polaroids, old snapshots, color prints, all taped up with sturdy fishing tape. One figure stood out for him. Elizabeth.
He saw her as she'd been at age six, a tiny creature hoisting a salmon nearly as big as she was. He saw her at twelve, sporting snorkeling goggles, her damp hair caught up in braids. He saw her at seventeen, with shorter hair and longer legs. She was standing on a beach, surrounded by a gaggle of boys, all of whom outflanked her by inches. None of those boys were her brothers, and quite a few had more interest in looking at her than at the camera. She wasn't aware of any of their gazes. She was too busy looking forward, towards the camera. Towards her future.
“Will?” Magnus spoke up.
“Yeah?”
“There's one last room to show you.” Magnus gestured towards the door. “The wheelhouse.”
The doorway to the wheelhouse was a cramped stainless steel. The space itself seemed equally small, barely large enough to fit all the Bennet children at once, let alone a visitor. Which was perhaps why two of the Bennets had vacated. Only Liam and Elizabeth remained. Elizabeth was curled up in the pilot's chair, her face meditative, her legs drawn up. A log book was balanced in her lap. A pencil was in her hand. While Elizabeth worked, Liam had his feet stretched out on a nearby chair. He seemed to be doing nothing more taxing than watching the brass compass on the wall slowly drift westward. Neither of them noticed his entrance.
“Elizabeth,” Liam was goading his sister, “make me a cuppa or two of tea, out of the kindness of your heart, will you lass?”
“It's just like our teapot at home. Go to the kitchen and make it yourself, you lazy goose,” Elizabeth mumbled, dutifully logging both their longitude and latitude.
"Aaah, but I don't know how," Liam answered.
“We've a latitude of fifty-one degrees, thirty-two minutes, fifty five seconds," she continued. "Longitude is eight degrees, thirty-five minutes, thirty-two point sixty-eight seconds.” She tapped the radar screen with her pencil point. “I wonder if Magnus wants to round Old Head and head northward into muir cheilteach?”
“He does not,” Magnus spoke up. “We'll make anchor here.”
“And I can handle the tea,” Will volunteered.
She looked up, her concerns for longitude, latitude, muirs, and directions instantly forgotten. Her big green eyes, bright in the midmorning sunlight, focused squarely on Will. “Hello.”
“Safe and sound, just like I promised,” Magnus signed to his sister.
“And he's making us tea. A generous soul.” Liam beamed.
Elizabeth set the log book aside. “Honestly, Will, you don't have to make Liam tea.” She pushed from the chair just as the ship listed to one side. Which sent her, conveniently enough, sliding right towards him.
He caught her with both arms. In that moment, she forgot the presence of her brothers, the worries clouding her mind, his past, their present. Everything but the calm strength of his hands and the steady warmth of his arms. Though his dark eyes remained steady, his mouth hinted at a playful grin. “Who said anything about making it for him?”
“Hmm?” she said stupidly.
“The teamaker.” He didn't seem any more eager to release her than she was to step away from his arms. She felt his fingers through her sweater, slowly kneading the tension from her shoulders. “You said it's the same one in your mother's kitchen. Is that the one we used last night?”
“Yes, it's just the same. But--”
"Then it's fresh in my mind. I'll teach him how to do it himself.” Will cast a glance towards young Liam. “Get up.”
Liam started from his seat. “Huh?”
Will gently squeezed Elizabeth's arms one last time, then carefully released her. “You mind if we take leave of you for a bit?”
“Oh---" she blinked. It was a good idea, she thought, teaching Liam something he should have learned ages ago. "Sure.”
“Thank you, Magnus, for the tour.” Will dipped his head to him. “I'd like to take a look at your profit and loss reports, if you don't mind. There should be a way for you to pay down that new engine more quickly, even if it means refinancing through another bank.”
“Absolutely,” Magnus agreed.
With that, Will was off again, with Liam tagging along. Affection welled within her, mixed with a breathless, dizzy longing. That he could make her feel that with the simplest interactions--she raked back her hair, as if that would help her sort out her thoughts.
He needed this time with her brothers, she knew that. Selfishly, she wanted him to herself. She would have preferred a party of two, herself and Will, and her small kingfisher sailboat. They could have gone sailing in the safety of a nearby bay and picnicked on the beach.
Magnus met her gaze with a smile of his own. She expected to see good-natured teasing in his eyes. What she saw instead was deep affection, a touch of sympathy, and more than a little approval. “He's a good man,” he signed, before sliding his arm around her.
“The best,” she agreed with a sign, before silently resting her head on his shoulder.
**
Will had been bracing for a rough ride on 'Green Grainne'. What he found instead was a smooth easy drift into the Celtic Sea.
Which made it easy for him to relax that morning as he worked with Magnus, pouring over numbers, studying profit margins, debating the benefits of the variable interest rate and payoff strategies for his loan.
“Ready for some deep sea angling?” Killian said, popping into the wheelhouse. "Seamus says the fish are growing restless."
“I'll help you set up,” Magnus signed his offer to Killian, pushing from his chair. "Will," he spoke aloud, "you might want to get some lunch first. These are big fish we're searching for. It's back breaking labor."
“You'll be fine," Liam assured him. Surprisingly, of all the Bennet brothers it was Liam who had the quickest knack with numbers. He'd been keen to sit in on the discussion regarding Magnus's loan. "If you can teach me to cook. We can teach you to fish.”
“Tea's a start,” Will agreed.
“A small one,” Elizabeth remarked from the pilot's chair, “but now my brother can answer affirmatively when asked if he can boil water. You've done us all a favor.”
Will's attention drifted, as it had most of the morning, back to Elizabeth. She offered him a soft, lingering smile in return. Enough to wake him up, he thought. And to warm his blood. A buzz of the VHF radio was enough to drag her attention away from him and back to the task at hand.
She was the youngest of all the Bennet children, and yet she knew as much about the fishing industry as any of her brothers. And twice as much about the equipment. All morning, she'd organized and prioritized the tasks involved in piloting the ship. She worked with steady focus, with efficiency and with sharp intelligence.
He admired her for all of it. Her mind. Her will. Her focus. Her intellect. And her body, he admitted. Will caught his breath, thoughts of budgeting abandoned as she arched her back, shifting in her chair to pick up the radio headset. He watched her brush her hair back, pushing away dark tendrils that tickled her throat. It was a fascinating study for him---watching her soft, quiet movements. Studying the line of her neck. Seeing the curve of her body as she stretched.
“Will?” Liam prompted him.
“Yes?” Caught ogling the very sister of the man sitting next to him, he tried to hide his distraction with a cough. “Sorry. We, ah, were talking about--”
“Taking a break,” Liam finished for him. “Lunchtime. You should get some.”
“I'll make it.” Elizabeth stood from her seat. She studied the pair with a fond smile. “And not because I'm the only lass aboard, and too helpless to fish for my own meal."
“For the record,” Will threw down his pencil. "I'd say you're a far cry from helpless."
“Would you now?” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.
"A far cry from it," he repeated with an appreciative grin.
"What word would you use?"
“Right.” Liam said, standing abruptly. Liam thought his sister was lucky he was the one catching this flirtation, and not Seamus or Killian. Mild though their words were, the underlying charge between this pair could power the boat from here to Alaska. “Eilis, go on and feed your lad. I'll be topside with the boys.”
“You don't want anything to eat?” she asked.
“No, Love.” Liam chose to sign this part. “I'd better get out of the way. A minute longer and your lad would have started drooling.”
“Because he's hungry?” she asked her brother with a quick sign.
“Because of you,” Liam signed back. “And the looks you're tossing him in return aren't exactly fit for a chapel.”
The assessment turned her ears pink. Mostly because it was true.
“The truth is, it's probably best to get this out of your system now, and while the others aren't in view. I'll get out of the way. Send him above deck when you're through snogging,” Liam continued in sign language, “and then the lads and I will teach him how to fish.”
"But-" she sputtered aloud.
"You know I'm right," he said with a grin.
The air felt heavy once he'd left. And the room felt very, very crowded, though Will was her only company.
"What was that about," Will asked.
Barely two days here in Ireland, and he was already developing a fisherman's tan. He certainly had the build of a fisherman, too, capable and strong. The Irish sweater accentuated the lean strength of his shoulders, the cobalt blue shade complimented the depth of his dark eyes. He looked like he carried the warmth of the sun on his skin. Aware of her examination, he lifted his brows, both amused and curious.
Okay, Elizabeth, she thought with a nervous exhale. Maybe Liam was right after all.
"Lunch. Come with me," she said, taking Will by the hand.
"It would be harder to make it in here," he agreed as she tugged him to his feet. He didn't mind the rush, though once they neared the stainless steel doorframe, he barely ducked in time. "Easy now. Some of us exceed the height requirements, remember?"
"Oh no," she winced as she pulled him down the corridor. "Are you okay?"
“I'm fine. But Elizabeth-” Will laughed as she pushed him into the small kitchenette.
“Hmm?” she asked, shutting the door.
Maybe it was ridiculous to take love advice from her brother. Or maybe Liam was right. Goodness knows he knew more about sneaking away to steal a kiss or two than anyone else in the family. And their time back at the house would be filled with aunts and uncles, and nieces and cousins and questions and curiosity, and absolutely everything but solitude.
This was her boyfriend, she had permission to want him. It was hard for her to be confident acting on her impulses, though. She might make stage kisses part of her profession, but he had more experience with the real thing. She'd never met a man who kissed as well as he did. Part of her was still afraid of making a fool of herself.
“Elizabeth.” There was laughter in his eyes as he leaned his back against the kitchen counter. She was grateful for the posture, and for the slight leveling of their heights. It would make this maneuver easier for her. “Where's the fire?”
“Oh.” There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as she approached him. Don't overthink this, she told herself. Just...trust.. She rested a hand on his chest, bravely choosing to meet his gaze steadily. “It's here, I think.”
And then she touched her lips to his.
This wasn't a demure kiss she offered him. It was inviting. Exploratory. More than a little shy, but full of all the sweet, simple desire she held for him in her heart. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know it.
He had quick reflexes, she had to give him that. The jolt of surprise he offered was quickly pushed aside. He wouldn't make her strain to kiss him. It took him less than a heartbeat to meet her halfway.
He wanted her. She could feel it in his body. She could taste it on his lips. But there was something else building in him; the more she kissed him, the more she felt it. Restraint. A willingness in him to go where she led. He didn't want to control this moment. He wanted to enjoy it, and her, and whatever she offered him.
She wasn't used to taking the lead, physically. It made her feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
She drew back, looking him in the eyes. “Fitzwilliam, is this---am I--” Elizabeth whispered, licking her lips. She wasn't even sure what she was asking him. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he whispered, before capturing her lips again.
His mouth was coaxing her onward, but once again he encouraged Elizabeth set the tone this time. As her confidence grew, it felt more like an equal exchange. Passion for passion; heat for heat. Long kisses built, spark after spark. Instinct took over as she clung to him, gripping the knit of his fisherman's sweater between her fingers. As if she was right on the cusp of tearing it apart. Or tugging it off.
It was then, right at that moment, that Will drew back. “Elizabeth--” he whispered.
“Yes?”
He needed a minute to gain control of his impulses. She stared up at him, breathless, vulnerable. Waiting. She was so beautiful, she kicked the air right out of his lungs. If he pushed her away, she'd feel rejected. If he let her continue, he'd lose his mind. And his self control.
Gently, slowly, he slid his hands down her arms. Even now, he was aware of the medication still filtering out of her blood. The risk.
She had accepted his kisses, but this was the first time she'd had the confidence to kiss him first. He was proud of her. He wanted--he needed--Elizabeth to have confidence in her own desires. As for how he was going to encourage that, and keep hold of his own restraint in the process? They'd figure that out as they went along.
“You're beautiful,” he spoke at last.
The remark wasn't a ploy. It was the simple truth as he saw it, as well as the best answer he could think to give. But it did make her pull gently away, laughing as she did so. “Will...”
“I don't think I say it enough,” he admitted honestly.
“I just—I don't know how to answer you.” While she walked to the fridge, pulling a carton of freshly stocked soup out.
“You could just agree with me,” he said mildly. He wouldn't tell her he was grateful for the distance. He needed a minute to calm down. More than a minute. He wandered over to their wall of photos.
“Wait till you see my cousin Jane," she called out. "She's the real beauty of the family. There should be a picture of her up there somewhere.”
“I hadn't noticed,” he admitted.
“Really? She's the only cousin I have. Blond. Willowy. Blue eyes.”
At Elizabeth's instance, he studied the photos again. Ah, here was one. A blond with long hair, hugging Elizabeth. He squinted, examining the photo. Yes, Jane Bennet was pretty enough, he decided. Mostly he thought this because he saw hints of Elizabeth in her features. A blonder, less vibrant version of Elizabeth. And much, much less beautiful.
“Isn't my cousin lovely?” Elizabeth prompted. Behind him, he heard her put a soup pot on the burner, clicking the pilot light on.
“She's not you,” was his diplomatic response. “You should know I'm not partial to blonds.”
“Good. Then I won't worry about her stealing your heart when you meet her at Killian's wedding.”
“No chance of that,” he murmured. “There's a different picture of you here...you're holding a trophy. When was this?”
“Oh...um...” She sounded self-conscious. “It's the Three Villages Regalia.”
“It's a contest?”
“Yes, for sailing. Ballydeirc hosts it every summer. The kids from the neighboring villages take part as well.”
“And you won it,” he finished. “Out of everyone, including your own brothers, you won the trophy.”
Three times, she thought as she stirred the soup. She'd won it three times between the ages of twelve and seventeen. She could speak freely enough about her dancing. It was the rest of her life she hesitated boasting about. She didn't know why.
“Could you tell me about some of these other pictures?” Will asked.
The clam chowder was pre-made. It needed little attention. She moved over to the cutting board. She began cutting a loaf of fresh bread she'd brought aboard. Then she moved to apples. “There's not much to tell.”
“I disagree,” he said. “When was the last time you went snorkeling?"
“Oh, I don't know...” she said as her knife sliced through a shining red apple. "I'd have to think about it."
"It's that recent, huh?"
“Five years, I guess. Not since I earned my contract to dance in Dublin...” Not since the world of the ballet took over her life, she realized suddenly. “After that, well...there was never time. There was always something else to train for. Some new show to work on.”
He was noticing a trend. Before Ballet, and After. The more the art took over her life, the less of a life she seemed to have. He was strolling back towards her. “But what if you did have the time?”
“It's not a very practical thought,” she said, looking up at him. “The ballet season runs until late summer. Even if I'm not with the British Opera Ballet, once I'm feeling stronger I'll have to start training again. And then, after the new year, I'll start auditioning for smaller companies.”
“I thought you were coming to terms with not dancing for the British Opera.”
“Yes,” she agreed cautiously, surprised by the serious turn in the conversation. “But ballet's still a huge part of my life, Will.”
“But not the only part. You told me that yourself.”
“I know, but--” She began chopping again, more forcefully now. “It's complicated. You know that. You just went to Paris to try to argue my cause to Bertram.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I regret my failure to persuade him. But I did it because I thought it was what you wanted.”
“Of course it was what I wanted,” she said, a touch snappishly.
"So my question is, what else do you want?"
“I--” Trapped between a concession on one hand, an argument on the other, and that deep, dark gaze of his, she said the only thing her pride would allow. “This conversation was more fun when words weren't involved.”
“For both of us,” he said evenly. “But the question stands. When was the last time you did something you wanted to do? Just for yourself?”
“Five minutes ago," she said primly. "You were my test subject.”
Gentleman though he was, he could conceal his wolfish grin. “Well, that's a cause I'm willing to offer myself to.”
“Good,” she laughed, setting her knife down. “Are you hungry? We should eat...”
“In a minute. When was the last time you went on a holiday?”
“Well, my time here is a holiday, isn't it?” Elizabeth shrugged. “Sort of. I mean, you know, it's...family. As for a real vacation...well, who doesn't dream of a weekend trip to--"
"To where?" he pressed.
"I don't know—Vienna or something. But it's just not possible.”
“It is for me.” That declaration, and the frankness with which he spoke it, prompted her to offer an arched look. “I have an apartment in Vienna. We could go there.”
“But—but—” An apartment in Vienna. She vaguely recalled mention of a properties in France and Italy as well. She knew he was rich, but honestly. Did the man hopscotch around Europe collecting real estate the way other people collected postcards?
"I go there sometimes for business,” he continued. "Next time a meeting comes up, I could take you along. If you were interested, that is..."
Well, who wouldn't be interested in going to Vienna? She studied his face; she saw no apologies and no hesitation. For him, this was a simple, straightforward proposition. Like he was offering her a mini-break in Manchester.
Like a mini-break in Manchester, only...not.
“I can't just jet off to Austria,” she said.
“It seems to me that for the first time in quite a few years, you could. One weekend away when we have the time, Elizabeth. I'm not asking for a lifetime.”
There was a light in his eyes as he said that, as if he were on the cusp of adding something else. Still, the moment passed. Neither spoke further. And the chowder was bubbling. She reached to turn off the burner.
“I'll tell you what, Will Darcy,” she said, “survive the week with my family at the famously exotic 'hotel Bennet' first. Then we'll see what other propositions we can cook up together. Deal?”
“Elizabeth,” he conceded this with a nod of his head. “I couldn't have said that better myself.”
**
Once their lunch concluded, Will and Elizabeth parted ways again. Elizabeth headed back to the wheelhouse, Will headed topside.
Deep sea fishing, he thought with more than a little caution. How hard could this be?
The Bennet brothers had set sea rods along the portside rail. Five fishing rods, all in alignment, with chairs beside each one. Will would use Magnus's rod, a sturdy, fifty-pound pole made of carbon fiber.
“You'll need one that strong,” Killian informed him flatly. Killian's eyes, shielded by a pair of sunglasses, offered nothing but a reflection of sea.Will eased into a seat beside the policeman. The middle Bennet seemed to think the least of him, which made him all the more willing to plant himself right in Killian's path. “The fish we're searching for today can weigh upwards of sixty, seventy, even eighty pounds.”
Seamus stretched out in the chair to Will's left. Liam was dozing in the furthest seat on the end. Magnus served as their overseer.
“Deep sea fish are strong. Stronger than what you'll find in a harbor or a bay,” Magnus said aloud, “because they fight against the weight of the sea, and the shifting currents.”
“We're fishing for monsters, we are,” Liam informed him with a grin, spreading his hands wide. “Halibut this wide.”
“It can take hours to hook one,” Seamus added, “and just as long to reel one in.”
It took three long hours. The men spent the time discussing politics, debating football teams, and dissecting Will's background.
For Will it was an exercise in tactical evasion, delving into some topics and deliberately avoiding others. He chose not to mention his fortune, his family name. The Gardiners knew, of course, but he could trust their silence. The rest of Elizabeth's family would know soon enough. In the meantime, he'd rather be Will, just Will, judged on the merits of how well he fished and how much he loved their sister.
Much of the conversation revolved around his knowledge of Elizabeth: when they'd met, how long they'd dated.
"She's living in the dredges of London," Killian remarked. "In some rundown flat that the dumbest thief in London could break into on his off day. Do you approve of that?"
"Elizabeth's wellbeing is always at the forefront of my mind," Will answered. Seeing a tug on his fishing line, he sat up. "As for her living arrangements, I trust in her ability to take care of herself. I've never met anyone so self-sufficient."
"Hooked yourself a fish, have you Will?" Magnus observed.
"Looks that way," Will muttered. The tip of the fishing rod wavered, and then bent low. The stronger the pull, the bigger the fish. This looked large enough nearly to snap the line. He pulled the rod up and wound it tight.
"It's not like Elizabeth's living alone, either, Killian," Liam pointed out.
"Although there was some change up with her roommates-" Seamus mused. "It's been awhile, since I've checked. Does she have one roommate now, or two?"
"One," Will answered coolly "A good friend. Someone who will look out for her if the need arises."
"He's right," Elizabeth spoke from behind him. "Not that the four of you need to worry over me."
“We can't help it, lass,” Seamus spoke up, lighting a cigarette as he did so. “You'd best take care of yourself.”
“Says the man currently filling his lungs with smoke. Your lovely wife would have lovely words for you about that,” she said, before turning her attention to Will. “And Will's hoisting a fifty pound fish from the ocean. That might interest you, given we came out here to fish.”
Liam sprung up. “Ah. It's a fine catch you've got. See how the line's tightening?”
"Have you got it?" Seamus said. "It's a fighter. Don't let it go now."
“I'm fine,” Will muttered, ignoring the fire in his shoulder that screamed otherwise.
“Liam, he's nearly reeled it in," Elizabeth spoke quickly, "Grab the harpoon for me, will you? ”
The wind was picking up, spraying a sea mist against his cheeks.
“You've a feisty one on your hook,” Seamus spoke up. “There's a trick in reeling it in though. You don't want it fighting you the whole way.”
“They're clever creatures, and no mistake,” Liam agreed from the other side. “And heavy. Seventy pounds, do you think, Killian?”
“Feels like it,” admitted Will, gritting his teeth as the rod bowed and bent again.
“We need a buoy to balance it out,” Killian moved quickly to hook a red buoy on his line. “You're tiring her out, Will, but you can't give it too much fight all at once. The creature might grow angry and pull the line taut. If it breaks the line, you've lost the fight and the catch. You have to loosen the line a bit, let it relax a bit, then swoop in for the catch.”
“A wee bit more--” Liam added.
“Easy does it-” warned Seamus.
“That's it,” Killian agreed. He was barely aware of the surrounding conversation, or any of their movements. At least until Elizabeth climbed the rails, leaning her hips over the edge of the boat with a harpoon in one hand.
“Elizabeth--” Will said, nearly losing his focus completely.
“Ah, she's fine, lad. She won't fall,” Seamus spoke with a grin. “Lizzie might not be strong enough to reel this in, but she's a steady shot with a harpoon. She'll stake it for you. It's the last step before you pull the halibut aboard. Wouldn't want an eighty-pound fish slapping you in the face.”
Seamus was right. He watched her do it. Looking more like a modern Amazon warrior than a dainty dancer, she pierced the halibut clear through. In one last burst of energy, Will hoisted his fishing rod up, tugging the fish to the boat.
“Brilliant,” Seamus clapped him on the back once he'd dropped the fish down to the deck floor. “Let's clean him up.”
Killian knelt to examine the catch. “You've a knife on you?
Magnus did. He snapped it open, handing it to his brother.
“Here's the trick, Will...you want to cut here...right by the gill,” Killian advised, sliding the knife beneath the gaping gill. “And another cut here in the back--careful not to cut too deep. Nice and even.”
His hands were sore. His back was sore. His shoulder was—Will rotated it with a wince. His shoulder was a problem. It would be a bloody nightmare tomorrow. But he didn't regret any of it. The Bennet siblings worked around him, talking and laughing and betting each other and counter betting. Prodding him to place a bet.
“What do you think, Will? Eighty pounds at least,” said Liam. “I'll bet a euro on it.”
“It's a fine catch, Will,” Killian admitted. “A very fine catch.”
“Eighty pounds is conservative. I say this fish weighs eighty-five pounds, and we'll make the bet two euros.” Seamus offered a grin to Will. “And your first try, too.”
“Eilis,” Magnus signed to his sister, “bring us a case and some ice to pack this in. Our lone catch of the day. When we get home, we might as well make a feast of it.”
After she left, it was Liam who spoke up.
“You know, Will..” he said thoughtfully. “There's an old Irish tradition related to a man's first catch.”
Will stretched his neck, hiding a wince as the muscles in his back complained right along with them. “Oh?”
“Ah, yes,” Liam continued. “The tail, you see, it guides the halibut along. And so if the man who catches his first halibut consumes that tail, well, he'll have the luck of the sea for all his fishing trips ever after.”
“Is that right?" Will tugged off his fisherman's gloves.
“Oh, it's a fact, lad," Seamus agreed. "But you'll have to eat it."
“Raw,” Killian finished, cleaving the tail completely in one clean slice. “Here.”
Magnus folded his arms, observing this, saying nothing. They all studied him, waiting. Watching. Will used his good arm to pick the fish tail up, balancing it in his hand. He lifted it, motioning as if he were bringing it to his mouth.
“To be honest...” he paused, holding up the tail with a grin, “I'm not the superstitious type. And with your sister in my life, I think I've got all the Irish luck I need.” And, with a throw worthy of the pitches he'd played on, he tossed the sliced tail back to the watery horizon.
For a moment, the Bennet boys did nothing. Said nothing. And then, just as suddenly, they all spoke at once.
“We almost had you!” laughed Liam.
"No," Will laughed. "You didn't."
“Ah, he's too clever by half!” roared Seamus.
“Liam, you're lucky he didn't shove the fish tail in your face,” Magnus warned his brother with a grin. “Eating the tail, indeed. We'll have a story to tell at dinner tonight...”
"He did a fine job." Seamus clapped Will on the back in two hardy thumps. It nearly felled him completely. It was worth it, he thought. He'd earned his seat at the Bennet table. "A fine job."
“I'm buying him a pint when we get inland,” Liam magnanimously.
“No, I'm buying him a pint when we get inland,” Elizabeth announced her return, a grin on her face. “The rest of you can get in line.”
Chapter 38 Part 1
The stormy night ceded to a foggy day ashore. If you could call this fog, Will thought, squinting to see through the thick clouds obscuring their path. Pemberley had fog, a pale, hazy mist that gathered in the low valleys, burning up by mid day.
This was a wall of white. Stubborn, adaptable, swallowing everything in its path, even the light casting forth from the headlights. When Seamus's truck reached the harbor's edge, the only sight there to greet them was a dozen mastheads bobbing in an ocean clouds.
“Here we are,” announced Seamus, cutting the engine.
“And with your brother's car taking up the rear,” Will confirmed, finally allowing his muscles to relax. He'd kept half his brain on the treacherous road ahead, and the other half on the headlights of the car that trailed them.
He glanced in the rear view mirror to catch sight of their backseat passenger. Elizabeth's questioning eyes, bright in her worried face, sought his gaze in return.
“Loads of boats make port in this harbor,” Seamus remarked, pushing open his door. “Everything from small crabbers and skiffs, to larger trollers. We're getting a late start, though. Most commercial vessels are gone by sunrise.”
“The fog won't slow them?” Will questioned as he climbed from the truck. The fog revealed nothing. Not even the sea, stretching before them.
“A bit,” Seamus conceded.
“Not much choice, though,” Killian called out, emerging from the fog. Liam trailed behind him, carting a pile of life vets. “Half the island depends on the sea trade to put bread on their table.”
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was struggling to open the rusted backseat door. Will reached for the door handle. It opened with a rusty groan.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his outstretched hand as he helped her down. Her feet touched the slippery harbor planks. Rather than letting go, she kept her fingers entwined in his, holding tight. Killian, Seamus and Liam walked ahead, boarding the boat.
"Will." There were a dozen questions in her eyes, and more than a hint of worry. “You don't have to do this. You don't have to go.”
"Have you ever known me to participate in something I didn't want to do?"
“Once, actually," she mused as they walked down the dock. The fog was thinning as they neared the water, pushed about by the wind from the sea. A line of bobbing boats was coming in to view. "The night we met, you weren't too keen on going to that party.”
"True," he acknowledged, "but that turned out well enough in the end."
"Only after a dozen false starts," she laughed.
"Most activities improve after a few practice runs." he said mildly, squeezing her fingers. He was relaxing her, Elizabeth realized. She'd wanted to be the one calming him, and yet now that they were here, all she could do was worry. This had seemed like a decent enough idea last night. But what if her brothers were too hard on him? What if he hated fishing? What if he grew seasick?
"Tell me about your brother's ship," he said quietly. "Which one is it?"
"The white one," she said, leaning against him, "With the red and green flag atop it. Green Grainne, she's called."
Magnus, their ship's captain, had yet to board. Catching sight of the couple, he cast a curious glance to Will, and one to Elizabeth, too.
“Afraid you left your sea legs in London, little sister?” Magnus signed as he passed them.
Elizabeth shook her head, her fingers tightening in Will's grip.
Interesting, thought Magnus. She was unwilling to release Will's hand, even to talk to her own brother. That was more of an answer to his unspoken question than even Elizabeth realized.
“Eilis,” the deaf man spoke aloud. “I'll trust you to show Will how we undock the ship. Let him board, then I want you to cast the spring lines off and jump aboard yourself. After that, I'll need you in the wheelhouse.”
Magnus walked onward towards his ship, jogging up the ramp. His boat welcomed him with a slow list from side to side. The instructions he'd given Elizabeth and Will would keep the couple busy for the next few minutes, and offer Elizabeth something concrete to do so she could shake off her nerves. Meanwhile, Magnus could offer fair warning to his brothers.
The lads had assembled in the galley. Liam was looking longingly at the tea maker, too sleepy to go without, too lazy to make it himself. Killian was sorting fish hooks. Seamus was counting angling rods.
“How rough of a ride should we take him on?” questioned Killian. “Tide's still high enough south of here, and the edge of last night's storm front is probably still lingering there."
“We won't go south. We're headed west,” Magnus announced in a series of signs. “Calm waters and blue skies.”
“Ah, you're no fun,” remarked Liam. The youth leaned back in his chair, dragged his baseball cap from his head and balanced it over his eyes. "Wake me when we get there."
“If it counts for anything," Seamus added, "my money's on the Englishman, whether we head south or not. The man's got a steel spine, and no mistaking it. We met some poor road this morning, and he was steady as they come. He didn't flinch once.”
“I won't be able to judge is character until I've watched him do a hard day's work,” Killian admitted.
“Give him a fair chance,” Magnus warned. Seamus might be the eldest brother, but here aboard the ship, Magnus claimed captaincy. “If not just for himself, than for Eilis."
As far as Magnus was concerned, he'd seen the writing on the wall, and there was no mistaking it. Their sister, the Unsinkable Elizabeth Bennet, was completely and wholeheartedly in love.
***
Once they set sail, Will was due for a proper tour of the ship. And it was Magnus himself who would give it to him.
"Magnus, Will is waiting for you above deck,” Seamus said as he squeezed himself into the small wheelhouse. The brawny veterinarian could barely maneuver in this tiny room without bumping into something. “He seems keen on learning the workings of the ship. I was teaching him the difference between a clove hitch knot and a bow line. He caught on right away.”
When Elizabeth offered to tag along, Magnus laughed and pointed her towards the captain's chair.
"But I'd like to come," she said.
“Why?” Killian questioned plainly, glancing up from his seat at a nearby table. He'd taken up one of the small chairs clustered around it, intent on studying a tide table. Liam occupied the other chair.
“Because—because...” All four of her brothers were now staring at her. She both spoke and signed her answer. “Will doesn't know sign language.”
“Then Magnus won't use sign,” Seamus spoke up. He offered Elizabeth odd look. “And Will can manage for himself, lass.”
“But--”
“Eilis,” Magnus signed his answer to his sister. “I'll not throw your sweetheart overboard. You have my word on it. Radio the marina with our callsign in the meantime, will you?”
“But-” she signed. But he'd already departed. Arguing with a deaf man could be remarkably straightforward. Once he'd left your sightline, the conversation was well and truly over.
“I've never seen you so anxious on a boat before, Elizabeth,” Seamus observed plainly. “You capsized that kingfisher of yours in a squall, two leagues from shore, and handled it more calmly. Remember that?”
“I know, but--” she drummed her fingers nervously on the edge of the pilot's wheel. She'd forgotten how exasperating the presence of four level-headed brothers could be. “This is different.”
“Clearly,” Killian said dryly.
“Come along, Love,” Liam said, rousing himself to alertness for his sister's sake. “Magnus is a good sort, he'd like to get to know your fellow. And he asked you to use that beautiful voice of yours to radio our call-sign to the marina. Do that in the meantime.”
**
As for Will, unaware of the negotiations going on between below deck, he was finding his feet above. Literally.
He was a strong swimmer. He'd gone fishing in streams, he'd been sailing in rivers. He'd swum in the ocean and relaxed on the beach.
But he hadn't met the water headlong like this before. The greater the body of water, the larger his aversion to it. That fear grated on him.
Which was partly why he'd wanted to do this. Why he'd needed to. Elizabeth wasn't the only one who'd felt a jolt of fear this morning. She was just the only one to admit to it.
It wasn't the water that had caused the death of his family. It was the impact, the crush of the guardrail before the car teetered off the bridge.
But the water had damn well nearly done him in, and his sister with him. He had the scars to show for it. If his fear wasn't rational, nothing was.
Still, he reminded himself, he'd never let fear beat him yet. And today wasn't his day to start.
“Will,” Magnus touched his arm. “Ready to meet the ship?”
Will pushed from the rail. “More than ready.”
They began with the engine room, the heart of the ship. A new engine, Magnus explained. New on a relative scale, anyway. They're replaced it three years back. It was a large investment, Magnus confessed, one that was still cutting in to his quarterly profits.
"Is your interest rate fixed," Will asked. "Or variable?"
"Variable," Magnus admitted. "I'm not one for numbers either. I've been making monthly payments to the bank, but it doesn't seem to make much of a dent."
"Do you have the paperwork aboard?"
"Sure," Magnus said.
"If we have some free time, maybe I could look at it?"
Next came the holding room. It was a frigid space, currently absent of fish, but packed with ice nonetheless.
“Stability is key,” Magnus explained. "Three weeks at sea can yield a hundred pounds of fish, but we have to make sure we keep the cargo packed properly. The steel mast connects to the boom chain, and that keeps our balance, but the foundation keeps us steady. An uneven distribution of weight, and we could capsize.”
Just what he wanted to hear.
Next came the cramped galley, with a kitchenette on one end and a pair of bunkbeds on the other. The cots were bolted to the wall. They would rock and sway with every shift in the changing currents.
It was a dimly lit room, with only two portholes. Perhaps to compensate for the cramped atmosphere, they'd adorned the walls with pictures. Faded Polaroids, old snapshots, color prints, all taped up with sturdy fishing tape. One figure stood out for him. Elizabeth.
He saw her as she'd been at age six, a tiny creature hoisting a salmon nearly as big as she was. He saw her at twelve, sporting snorkeling goggles, her damp hair caught up in braids. He saw her at seventeen, with shorter hair and longer legs. She was standing on a beach, surrounded by a gaggle of boys, all of whom outflanked her by inches. None of those boys were her brothers, and quite a few had more interest in looking at her than at the camera. She wasn't aware of any of their gazes. She was too busy looking forward, towards the camera. Towards her future.
“Will?” Magnus spoke up.
“Yeah?”
“There's one last room to show you.” Magnus gestured towards the door. “The wheelhouse.”
The doorway to the wheelhouse was a cramped stainless steel. The space itself seemed equally small, barely large enough to fit all the Bennet children at once, let alone a visitor. Which was perhaps why two of the Bennets had vacated. Only Liam and Elizabeth remained. Elizabeth was curled up in the pilot's chair, her face meditative, her legs drawn up. A log book was balanced in her lap. A pencil was in her hand. While Elizabeth worked, Liam had his feet stretched out on a nearby chair. He seemed to be doing nothing more taxing than watching the brass compass on the wall slowly drift westward. Neither of them noticed his entrance.
“Elizabeth,” Liam was goading his sister, “make me a cuppa or two of tea, out of the kindness of your heart, will you lass?”
“It's just like our teapot at home. Go to the kitchen and make it yourself, you lazy goose,” Elizabeth mumbled, dutifully logging both their longitude and latitude.
"Aaah, but I don't know how," Liam answered.
“We've a latitude of fifty-one degrees, thirty-two minutes, fifty five seconds," she continued. "Longitude is eight degrees, thirty-five minutes, thirty-two point sixty-eight seconds.” She tapped the radar screen with her pencil point. “I wonder if Magnus wants to round Old Head and head northward into muir cheilteach?”
“He does not,” Magnus spoke up. “We'll make anchor here.”
“And I can handle the tea,” Will volunteered.
She looked up, her concerns for longitude, latitude, muirs, and directions instantly forgotten. Her big green eyes, bright in the midmorning sunlight, focused squarely on Will. “Hello.”
“Safe and sound, just like I promised,” Magnus signed to his sister.
“And he's making us tea. A generous soul.” Liam beamed.
Elizabeth set the log book aside. “Honestly, Will, you don't have to make Liam tea.” She pushed from the chair just as the ship listed to one side. Which sent her, conveniently enough, sliding right towards him.
He caught her with both arms. In that moment, she forgot the presence of her brothers, the worries clouding her mind, his past, their present. Everything but the calm strength of his hands and the steady warmth of his arms. Though his dark eyes remained steady, his mouth hinted at a playful grin. “Who said anything about making it for him?”
“Hmm?” she said stupidly.
“The teamaker.” He didn't seem any more eager to release her than she was to step away from his arms. She felt his fingers through her sweater, slowly kneading the tension from her shoulders. “You said it's the same one in your mother's kitchen. Is that the one we used last night?”
“Yes, it's just the same. But--”
"Then it's fresh in my mind. I'll teach him how to do it himself.” Will cast a glance towards young Liam. “Get up.”
Liam started from his seat. “Huh?”
Will gently squeezed Elizabeth's arms one last time, then carefully released her. “You mind if we take leave of you for a bit?”
“Oh---" she blinked. It was a good idea, she thought, teaching Liam something he should have learned ages ago. "Sure.”
“Thank you, Magnus, for the tour.” Will dipped his head to him. “I'd like to take a look at your profit and loss reports, if you don't mind. There should be a way for you to pay down that new engine more quickly, even if it means refinancing through another bank.”
“Absolutely,” Magnus agreed.
With that, Will was off again, with Liam tagging along. Affection welled within her, mixed with a breathless, dizzy longing. That he could make her feel that with the simplest interactions--she raked back her hair, as if that would help her sort out her thoughts.
He needed this time with her brothers, she knew that. Selfishly, she wanted him to herself. She would have preferred a party of two, herself and Will, and her small kingfisher sailboat. They could have gone sailing in the safety of a nearby bay and picnicked on the beach.
Magnus met her gaze with a smile of his own. She expected to see good-natured teasing in his eyes. What she saw instead was deep affection, a touch of sympathy, and more than a little approval. “He's a good man,” he signed, before sliding his arm around her.
“The best,” she agreed with a sign, before silently resting her head on his shoulder.
**
Will had been bracing for a rough ride on 'Green Grainne'. What he found instead was a smooth easy drift into the Celtic Sea.
Which made it easy for him to relax that morning as he worked with Magnus, pouring over numbers, studying profit margins, debating the benefits of the variable interest rate and payoff strategies for his loan.
“Ready for some deep sea angling?” Killian said, popping into the wheelhouse. "Seamus says the fish are growing restless."
“I'll help you set up,” Magnus signed his offer to Killian, pushing from his chair. "Will," he spoke aloud, "you might want to get some lunch first. These are big fish we're searching for. It's back breaking labor."
“You'll be fine," Liam assured him. Surprisingly, of all the Bennet brothers it was Liam who had the quickest knack with numbers. He'd been keen to sit in on the discussion regarding Magnus's loan. "If you can teach me to cook. We can teach you to fish.”
“Tea's a start,” Will agreed.
“A small one,” Elizabeth remarked from the pilot's chair, “but now my brother can answer affirmatively when asked if he can boil water. You've done us all a favor.”
Will's attention drifted, as it had most of the morning, back to Elizabeth. She offered him a soft, lingering smile in return. Enough to wake him up, he thought. And to warm his blood. A buzz of the VHF radio was enough to drag her attention away from him and back to the task at hand.
She was the youngest of all the Bennet children, and yet she knew as much about the fishing industry as any of her brothers. And twice as much about the equipment. All morning, she'd organized and prioritized the tasks involved in piloting the ship. She worked with steady focus, with efficiency and with sharp intelligence.
He admired her for all of it. Her mind. Her will. Her focus. Her intellect. And her body, he admitted. Will caught his breath, thoughts of budgeting abandoned as she arched her back, shifting in her chair to pick up the radio headset. He watched her brush her hair back, pushing away dark tendrils that tickled her throat. It was a fascinating study for him---watching her soft, quiet movements. Studying the line of her neck. Seeing the curve of her body as she stretched.
“Will?” Liam prompted him.
“Yes?” Caught ogling the very sister of the man sitting next to him, he tried to hide his distraction with a cough. “Sorry. We, ah, were talking about--”
“Taking a break,” Liam finished for him. “Lunchtime. You should get some.”
“I'll make it.” Elizabeth stood from her seat. She studied the pair with a fond smile. “And not because I'm the only lass aboard, and too helpless to fish for my own meal."
“For the record,” Will threw down his pencil. "I'd say you're a far cry from helpless."
“Would you now?” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.
"A far cry from it," he repeated with an appreciative grin.
"What word would you use?"
“Right.” Liam said, standing abruptly. Liam thought his sister was lucky he was the one catching this flirtation, and not Seamus or Killian. Mild though their words were, the underlying charge between this pair could power the boat from here to Alaska. “Eilis, go on and feed your lad. I'll be topside with the boys.”
“You don't want anything to eat?” she asked.
“No, Love.” Liam chose to sign this part. “I'd better get out of the way. A minute longer and your lad would have started drooling.”
“Because he's hungry?” she asked her brother with a quick sign.
“Because of you,” Liam signed back. “And the looks you're tossing him in return aren't exactly fit for a chapel.”
The assessment turned her ears pink. Mostly because it was true.
“The truth is, it's probably best to get this out of your system now, and while the others aren't in view. I'll get out of the way. Send him above deck when you're through snogging,” Liam continued in sign language, “and then the lads and I will teach him how to fish.”
"But-" she sputtered aloud.
"You know I'm right," he said with a grin.
The air felt heavy once he'd left. And the room felt very, very crowded, though Will was her only company.
"What was that about," Will asked.
Barely two days here in Ireland, and he was already developing a fisherman's tan. He certainly had the build of a fisherman, too, capable and strong. The Irish sweater accentuated the lean strength of his shoulders, the cobalt blue shade complimented the depth of his dark eyes. He looked like he carried the warmth of the sun on his skin. Aware of her examination, he lifted his brows, both amused and curious.
Okay, Elizabeth, she thought with a nervous exhale. Maybe Liam was right after all.
"Lunch. Come with me," she said, taking Will by the hand.
"It would be harder to make it in here," he agreed as she tugged him to his feet. He didn't mind the rush, though once they neared the stainless steel doorframe, he barely ducked in time. "Easy now. Some of us exceed the height requirements, remember?"
"Oh no," she winced as she pulled him down the corridor. "Are you okay?"
“I'm fine. But Elizabeth-” Will laughed as she pushed him into the small kitchenette.
“Hmm?” she asked, shutting the door.
Maybe it was ridiculous to take love advice from her brother. Or maybe Liam was right. Goodness knows he knew more about sneaking away to steal a kiss or two than anyone else in the family. And their time back at the house would be filled with aunts and uncles, and nieces and cousins and questions and curiosity, and absolutely everything but solitude.
This was her boyfriend, she had permission to want him. It was hard for her to be confident acting on her impulses, though. She might make stage kisses part of her profession, but he had more experience with the real thing. She'd never met a man who kissed as well as he did. Part of her was still afraid of making a fool of herself.
“Elizabeth.” There was laughter in his eyes as he leaned his back against the kitchen counter. She was grateful for the posture, and for the slight leveling of their heights. It would make this maneuver easier for her. “Where's the fire?”
“Oh.” There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as she approached him. Don't overthink this, she told herself. Just...trust.. She rested a hand on his chest, bravely choosing to meet his gaze steadily. “It's here, I think.”
And then she touched her lips to his.
This wasn't a demure kiss she offered him. It was inviting. Exploratory. More than a little shy, but full of all the sweet, simple desire she held for him in her heart. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know it.
He had quick reflexes, she had to give him that. The jolt of surprise he offered was quickly pushed aside. He wouldn't make her strain to kiss him. It took him less than a heartbeat to meet her halfway.
He wanted her. She could feel it in his body. She could taste it on his lips. But there was something else building in him; the more she kissed him, the more she felt it. Restraint. A willingness in him to go where she led. He didn't want to control this moment. He wanted to enjoy it, and her, and whatever she offered him.
She wasn't used to taking the lead, physically. It made her feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
She drew back, looking him in the eyes. “Fitzwilliam, is this---am I--” Elizabeth whispered, licking her lips. She wasn't even sure what she was asking him. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he whispered, before capturing her lips again.
His mouth was coaxing her onward, but once again he encouraged Elizabeth set the tone this time. As her confidence grew, it felt more like an equal exchange. Passion for passion; heat for heat. Long kisses built, spark after spark. Instinct took over as she clung to him, gripping the knit of his fisherman's sweater between her fingers. As if she was right on the cusp of tearing it apart. Or tugging it off.
It was then, right at that moment, that Will drew back. “Elizabeth--” he whispered.
“Yes?”
He needed a minute to gain control of his impulses. She stared up at him, breathless, vulnerable. Waiting. She was so beautiful, she kicked the air right out of his lungs. If he pushed her away, she'd feel rejected. If he let her continue, he'd lose his mind. And his self control.
Gently, slowly, he slid his hands down her arms. Even now, he was aware of the medication still filtering out of her blood. The risk.
She had accepted his kisses, but this was the first time she'd had the confidence to kiss him first. He was proud of her. He wanted--he needed--Elizabeth to have confidence in her own desires. As for how he was going to encourage that, and keep hold of his own restraint in the process? They'd figure that out as they went along.
“You're beautiful,” he spoke at last.
The remark wasn't a ploy. It was the simple truth as he saw it, as well as the best answer he could think to give. But it did make her pull gently away, laughing as she did so. “Will...”
“I don't think I say it enough,” he admitted honestly.
“I just—I don't know how to answer you.” While she walked to the fridge, pulling a carton of freshly stocked soup out.
“You could just agree with me,” he said mildly. He wouldn't tell her he was grateful for the distance. He needed a minute to calm down. More than a minute. He wandered over to their wall of photos.
“Wait till you see my cousin Jane," she called out. "She's the real beauty of the family. There should be a picture of her up there somewhere.”
“I hadn't noticed,” he admitted.
“Really? She's the only cousin I have. Blond. Willowy. Blue eyes.”
At Elizabeth's instance, he studied the photos again. Ah, here was one. A blond with long hair, hugging Elizabeth. He squinted, examining the photo. Yes, Jane Bennet was pretty enough, he decided. Mostly he thought this because he saw hints of Elizabeth in her features. A blonder, less vibrant version of Elizabeth. And much, much less beautiful.
“Isn't my cousin lovely?” Elizabeth prompted. Behind him, he heard her put a soup pot on the burner, clicking the pilot light on.
“She's not you,” was his diplomatic response. “You should know I'm not partial to blonds.”
“Good. Then I won't worry about her stealing your heart when you meet her at Killian's wedding.”
“No chance of that,” he murmured. “There's a different picture of you here...you're holding a trophy. When was this?”
“Oh...um...” She sounded self-conscious. “It's the Three Villages Regalia.”
“It's a contest?”
“Yes, for sailing. Ballydeirc hosts it every summer. The kids from the neighboring villages take part as well.”
“And you won it,” he finished. “Out of everyone, including your own brothers, you won the trophy.”
Three times, she thought as she stirred the soup. She'd won it three times between the ages of twelve and seventeen. She could speak freely enough about her dancing. It was the rest of her life she hesitated boasting about. She didn't know why.
“Could you tell me about some of these other pictures?” Will asked.
The clam chowder was pre-made. It needed little attention. She moved over to the cutting board. She began cutting a loaf of fresh bread she'd brought aboard. Then she moved to apples. “There's not much to tell.”
“I disagree,” he said. “When was the last time you went snorkeling?"
“Oh, I don't know...” she said as her knife sliced through a shining red apple. "I'd have to think about it."
"It's that recent, huh?"
“Five years, I guess. Not since I earned my contract to dance in Dublin...” Not since the world of the ballet took over her life, she realized suddenly. “After that, well...there was never time. There was always something else to train for. Some new show to work on.”
He was noticing a trend. Before Ballet, and After. The more the art took over her life, the less of a life she seemed to have. He was strolling back towards her. “But what if you did have the time?”
“It's not a very practical thought,” she said, looking up at him. “The ballet season runs until late summer. Even if I'm not with the British Opera Ballet, once I'm feeling stronger I'll have to start training again. And then, after the new year, I'll start auditioning for smaller companies.”
“I thought you were coming to terms with not dancing for the British Opera.”
“Yes,” she agreed cautiously, surprised by the serious turn in the conversation. “But ballet's still a huge part of my life, Will.”
“But not the only part. You told me that yourself.”
“I know, but--” She began chopping again, more forcefully now. “It's complicated. You know that. You just went to Paris to try to argue my cause to Bertram.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I regret my failure to persuade him. But I did it because I thought it was what you wanted.”
“Of course it was what I wanted,” she said, a touch snappishly.
"So my question is, what else do you want?"
“I--” Trapped between a concession on one hand, an argument on the other, and that deep, dark gaze of his, she said the only thing her pride would allow. “This conversation was more fun when words weren't involved.”
“For both of us,” he said evenly. “But the question stands. When was the last time you did something you wanted to do? Just for yourself?”
“Five minutes ago," she said primly. "You were my test subject.”
Gentleman though he was, he could conceal his wolfish grin. “Well, that's a cause I'm willing to offer myself to.”
“Good,” she laughed, setting her knife down. “Are you hungry? We should eat...”
“In a minute. When was the last time you went on a holiday?”
“Well, my time here is a holiday, isn't it?” Elizabeth shrugged. “Sort of. I mean, you know, it's...family. As for a real vacation...well, who doesn't dream of a weekend trip to--"
"To where?" he pressed.
"I don't know—Vienna or something. But it's just not possible.”
“It is for me.” That declaration, and the frankness with which he spoke it, prompted her to offer an arched look. “I have an apartment in Vienna. We could go there.”
“But—but—” An apartment in Vienna. She vaguely recalled mention of a properties in France and Italy as well. She knew he was rich, but honestly. Did the man hopscotch around Europe collecting real estate the way other people collected postcards?
"I go there sometimes for business,” he continued. "Next time a meeting comes up, I could take you along. If you were interested, that is..."
Well, who wouldn't be interested in going to Vienna? She studied his face; she saw no apologies and no hesitation. For him, this was a simple, straightforward proposition. Like he was offering her a mini-break in Manchester.
Like a mini-break in Manchester, only...not.
“I can't just jet off to Austria,” she said.
“It seems to me that for the first time in quite a few years, you could. One weekend away when we have the time, Elizabeth. I'm not asking for a lifetime.”
There was a light in his eyes as he said that, as if he were on the cusp of adding something else. Still, the moment passed. Neither spoke further. And the chowder was bubbling. She reached to turn off the burner.
“I'll tell you what, Will Darcy,” she said, “survive the week with my family at the famously exotic 'hotel Bennet' first. Then we'll see what other propositions we can cook up together. Deal?”
“Elizabeth,” he conceded this with a nod of his head. “I couldn't have said that better myself.”
**
Once their lunch concluded, Will and Elizabeth parted ways again. Elizabeth headed back to the wheelhouse, Will headed topside.
Deep sea fishing, he thought with more than a little caution. How hard could this be?
The Bennet brothers had set sea rods along the portside rail. Five fishing rods, all in alignment, with chairs beside each one. Will would use Magnus's rod, a sturdy, fifty-pound pole made of carbon fiber.
“You'll need one that strong,” Killian informed him flatly. Killian's eyes, shielded by a pair of sunglasses, offered nothing but a reflection of sea.Will eased into a seat beside the policeman. The middle Bennet seemed to think the least of him, which made him all the more willing to plant himself right in Killian's path. “The fish we're searching for today can weigh upwards of sixty, seventy, even eighty pounds.”
Seamus stretched out in the chair to Will's left. Liam was dozing in the furthest seat on the end. Magnus served as their overseer.
“Deep sea fish are strong. Stronger than what you'll find in a harbor or a bay,” Magnus said aloud, “because they fight against the weight of the sea, and the shifting currents.”
“We're fishing for monsters, we are,” Liam informed him with a grin, spreading his hands wide. “Halibut this wide.”
“It can take hours to hook one,” Seamus added, “and just as long to reel one in.”
It took three long hours. The men spent the time discussing politics, debating football teams, and dissecting Will's background.
For Will it was an exercise in tactical evasion, delving into some topics and deliberately avoiding others. He chose not to mention his fortune, his family name. The Gardiners knew, of course, but he could trust their silence. The rest of Elizabeth's family would know soon enough. In the meantime, he'd rather be Will, just Will, judged on the merits of how well he fished and how much he loved their sister.
Much of the conversation revolved around his knowledge of Elizabeth: when they'd met, how long they'd dated.
"She's living in the dredges of London," Killian remarked. "In some rundown flat that the dumbest thief in London could break into on his off day. Do you approve of that?"
"Elizabeth's wellbeing is always at the forefront of my mind," Will answered. Seeing a tug on his fishing line, he sat up. "As for her living arrangements, I trust in her ability to take care of herself. I've never met anyone so self-sufficient."
"Hooked yourself a fish, have you Will?" Magnus observed.
"Looks that way," Will muttered. The tip of the fishing rod wavered, and then bent low. The stronger the pull, the bigger the fish. This looked large enough nearly to snap the line. He pulled the rod up and wound it tight.
"It's not like Elizabeth's living alone, either, Killian," Liam pointed out.
"Although there was some change up with her roommates-" Seamus mused. "It's been awhile, since I've checked. Does she have one roommate now, or two?"
"One," Will answered coolly "A good friend. Someone who will look out for her if the need arises."
"He's right," Elizabeth spoke from behind him. "Not that the four of you need to worry over me."
“We can't help it, lass,” Seamus spoke up, lighting a cigarette as he did so. “You'd best take care of yourself.”
“Says the man currently filling his lungs with smoke. Your lovely wife would have lovely words for you about that,” she said, before turning her attention to Will. “And Will's hoisting a fifty pound fish from the ocean. That might interest you, given we came out here to fish.”
Liam sprung up. “Ah. It's a fine catch you've got. See how the line's tightening?”
"Have you got it?" Seamus said. "It's a fighter. Don't let it go now."
“I'm fine,” Will muttered, ignoring the fire in his shoulder that screamed otherwise.
“Liam, he's nearly reeled it in," Elizabeth spoke quickly, "Grab the harpoon for me, will you? ”
The wind was picking up, spraying a sea mist against his cheeks.
“You've a feisty one on your hook,” Seamus spoke up. “There's a trick in reeling it in though. You don't want it fighting you the whole way.”
“They're clever creatures, and no mistake,” Liam agreed from the other side. “And heavy. Seventy pounds, do you think, Killian?”
“Feels like it,” admitted Will, gritting his teeth as the rod bowed and bent again.
“We need a buoy to balance it out,” Killian moved quickly to hook a red buoy on his line. “You're tiring her out, Will, but you can't give it too much fight all at once. The creature might grow angry and pull the line taut. If it breaks the line, you've lost the fight and the catch. You have to loosen the line a bit, let it relax a bit, then swoop in for the catch.”
“A wee bit more--” Liam added.
“Easy does it-” warned Seamus.
“That's it,” Killian agreed. He was barely aware of the surrounding conversation, or any of their movements. At least until Elizabeth climbed the rails, leaning her hips over the edge of the boat with a harpoon in one hand.
“Elizabeth--” Will said, nearly losing his focus completely.
“Ah, she's fine, lad. She won't fall,” Seamus spoke with a grin. “Lizzie might not be strong enough to reel this in, but she's a steady shot with a harpoon. She'll stake it for you. It's the last step before you pull the halibut aboard. Wouldn't want an eighty-pound fish slapping you in the face.”
Seamus was right. He watched her do it. Looking more like a modern Amazon warrior than a dainty dancer, she pierced the halibut clear through. In one last burst of energy, Will hoisted his fishing rod up, tugging the fish to the boat.
“Brilliant,” Seamus clapped him on the back once he'd dropped the fish down to the deck floor. “Let's clean him up.”
Killian knelt to examine the catch. “You've a knife on you?
Magnus did. He snapped it open, handing it to his brother.
“Here's the trick, Will...you want to cut here...right by the gill,” Killian advised, sliding the knife beneath the gaping gill. “And another cut here in the back--careful not to cut too deep. Nice and even.”
His hands were sore. His back was sore. His shoulder was—Will rotated it with a wince. His shoulder was a problem. It would be a bloody nightmare tomorrow. But he didn't regret any of it. The Bennet siblings worked around him, talking and laughing and betting each other and counter betting. Prodding him to place a bet.
“What do you think, Will? Eighty pounds at least,” said Liam. “I'll bet a euro on it.”
“It's a fine catch, Will,” Killian admitted. “A very fine catch.”
“Eighty pounds is conservative. I say this fish weighs eighty-five pounds, and we'll make the bet two euros.” Seamus offered a grin to Will. “And your first try, too.”
“Eilis,” Magnus signed to his sister, “bring us a case and some ice to pack this in. Our lone catch of the day. When we get home, we might as well make a feast of it.”
After she left, it was Liam who spoke up.
“You know, Will..” he said thoughtfully. “There's an old Irish tradition related to a man's first catch.”
Will stretched his neck, hiding a wince as the muscles in his back complained right along with them. “Oh?”
“Ah, yes,” Liam continued. “The tail, you see, it guides the halibut along. And so if the man who catches his first halibut consumes that tail, well, he'll have the luck of the sea for all his fishing trips ever after.”
“Is that right?" Will tugged off his fisherman's gloves.
“Oh, it's a fact, lad," Seamus agreed. "But you'll have to eat it."
“Raw,” Killian finished, cleaving the tail completely in one clean slice. “Here.”
Magnus folded his arms, observing this, saying nothing. They all studied him, waiting. Watching. Will used his good arm to pick the fish tail up, balancing it in his hand. He lifted it, motioning as if he were bringing it to his mouth.
“To be honest...” he paused, holding up the tail with a grin, “I'm not the superstitious type. And with your sister in my life, I think I've got all the Irish luck I need.” And, with a throw worthy of the pitches he'd played on, he tossed the sliced tail back to the watery horizon.
For a moment, the Bennet boys did nothing. Said nothing. And then, just as suddenly, they all spoke at once.
“We almost had you!” laughed Liam.
"No," Will laughed. "You didn't."
“Ah, he's too clever by half!” roared Seamus.
“Liam, you're lucky he didn't shove the fish tail in your face,” Magnus warned his brother with a grin. “Eating the tail, indeed. We'll have a story to tell at dinner tonight...”
"He did a fine job." Seamus clapped Will on the back in two hardy thumps. It nearly felled him completely. It was worth it, he thought. He'd earned his seat at the Bennet table. "A fine job."
“I'm buying him a pint when we get inland,” Liam magnanimously.
“No, I'm buying him a pint when we get inland,” Elizabeth announced her return, a grin on her face. “The rest of you can get in line.”