Debt of Dishonour Book II: Epilogue
Part VIII
The following night, home once more, the three officers lay in bed together. All were tired from their journey and Horatio had already fallen asleep. His companions, however, were still awake.
On the mantelpiece lay souvenirs of their trip to Brookhill Abbey for their generous host had given each a gift by which to remember their visit. To Horatio, Stansford had given the book on Sir Francis Drake that he had so admired; to Edward, the music for one of Sacchini's operas that they both loved; to Archie, a most beautiful book of poetry decorated with angels. Each item had come with a personal note and a poem dedicated to each of them.
Edward Pellew stretched a little and sighed with pleasure as his fair-haired lover trailed soft lips from warm neck to broad shoulder.
"Archie, I really am quite fatigued from our long journey - and from last night."
"I suppose we all are," Archie sighed. "Last night was..." He trailed off trying to find a suitable expression.
"Yes, it was, and I really am quite worn out."
Archie sighed again, memories of the previous night dancing in his mind. After a while he reflected, "What a place!"
"Hm?" his sleepy partner queried.
"Brookhill Abbey. Such a place I have never seen."
"Hmm, but I have to agree with Nelson; a few too many towers."
"William loves them. He is very fit."
"So he is."
"Edward, I'm curious," Archie remarked after a while.
"Hm? What about?"
"You and William, alone in the oratory."
"So we were."
"And how, pray tell, did you and William pass your time all alone in the oratory?"
Edward grinned. "We... confessed our sins."
"Is that all?" Archie asked slyly.
"Ask Mr Stansford!"
"But I am asking you!" Archie tapped a finger on Edward's chest. "Did you pray together?"
Edward could not help but smile. "In a manner of speaking."
"What do you mean?"
"Allow me to show you, my lad!" Edward declared, an air of mystery in his voice.
Without further ado he rolled over and kissed Archie, at the same time lifting his nightshirt high as his hand delved beneath it to massage his lover's sturdy mast.
Within seconds Archie was groaning, shortly emitting a soft wail as his body convulsed in utmost bliss.
Still gasping, he opened his eyes to see a somewhat smug expression on his lover's face.
"You...?"
"Did you enjoy it?"
"You learnt how to kiss like William!" Archie accused. Edward nodded. "In the oratory?" Again Edward nodded. "In front of the altar?" Another nod. Archie shook his head.
"I should think the knowledge will come in very handy," Edward mused, reaching for a washcloth and handing it to his lover.
Archie grinned at him, slowly shaking his head.
"You are a wicked man, Edward! Wait until you try it on Horatio! I can not wait to see his face!"
"But I can keep you satisfied, lad! Both of you!"
Without warning, Archie began to giggle, his laughter shaking the bed.
"Oh, Edward, I just had the most delicious thought! Instead of fighting our enemies, you could just kiss them! Just think, Edward, there would be no more war! You could conquer Napoleon himself!"
Edward chuckled.
"Now how am I going to kiss Napoleon? Even supposing that I wanted to kiss the brute!" he added.
"Pish tosh! Leave it to me!"
"And what are you planning, my boy? Going to put a little something in his drink?"
Archie grinned. "I am good at that!"
"Cheeky boy! Come here!"
Archie rolled over to nuzzle his lover's neck as Edward gathered him into loving arms.
"William was so sorry to see us leave," he ventured after a while.
"Mm."
"What was it he said?"
"Archie, you need to study your French more."
"I know. What was it he said?"
"He said, 'For you, these doors are always open'."
Archie smiled. "For all of us."
"Yes."
"I have never seen such a huge set of doors in my life."
"Nor anything quite as tall as that tower."
"I overheard a man say that the place would fall down one day."
"Perhaps. Ask me about ships, not buildings."
"Well, if it does fall down one day, at least we have seen it."
"Yes, we have been privileged to see all of Brookhill Abbey - and its infamous owner!"
Archie grinned. "Not many people can say that I dare say."
"Nor can we, my love. A great many people still think the man is an infidel. If our own association with him became common knowledge, our reputations would suffer accordingly."
Archie sobered, his face sad.
"Do you think we shall see him again?"
"You like him very much."
A dreamy faraway look came into Archie's eyes. "He is... amazing," he finally decided.
Edward ran gentle fingers through Archie's soft hair. "And do you love him?"
Archie smiled. "A little," he confessed, fingering the silver St Anthony that hung around his neck. He glanced at the one Edward also wore for indeed Stansford had given one to each of them, explaining that they had been blessed by his guest the Abbé Macquin. "Do you?"
"A little."
"I think we were all under a spell at Brookhill. An enchanted spell."
"Hm-hm."
"Sleep well, my Edward."
"Good-night, my love."
*
William Stansford lay quietly in his small truckle bed, his mind filled with thoughts of the previous night. His memory was flawless as he recalled every touch, every gentle caress, every kiss that he gave and was given.
Touching his lips briefly, he smiled at the tenderness he had felt in their strong arms. The power of their joining had been beyond words, and he would carry the memories of that night to his grave.
He thought of the war that these brave and handsome souls would go to fight once more in their tall, wooden vessels, virtually at the mercy of the elements. He still had friends in high places on the Continent, especially in France and Portugal. There, he was respected as he never would be in his own country. Tomorrow, he would make a vow to the saint he loved that he would use whatever influence he had to bring an early end to the war.
"I will see them again," he vowed, his clear, grey eyes gazing at the stained glass window and imagining the blackness of the sea that lay beyond.
As hard as a Carmelite, his mind recalling in perfect detail his new favourite reverie, William Stansford drifted off to sleep, love warming his heart.
*
In his dream, Archie Kennedy climbed a very tall tower; a tower that seemed to be of Gothic design for it had finials, as he discovered when he reached the top. As he gazed down from its dizzy height, he saw not the view from Brookhill Abbey's central tower but 'Renown'. She was sailing away without him and he was inordinately glad that he was not on her. She was in the past now, and he had the feeling that he would never see her, or her like, again.
Turning, he beheld his future.
In brilliant sunshine and silhouetted against a sapphire blue sky, William Stansford gazed on him most fondly, a smile on his pink lips, his arms outstretched in welcome. In one hand was a large, creamy white rose, its petals displaying a soft, pearlescent lustre, its centre a brilliant, shining gold streaked with pink.
As Archie stepped closer Stansford attached the lovely flower to his uniform before enfolding him in slender arms.
"Sweet boy," he murmured.
Archie hugged him and accepted a kiss before Stansford indicated to his right.
Turning, Archie saw Horatio waiting for him, lips curved in a smile of warmest welcome. As he went into his lover's arms and they embraced heartily, Archie felt his whole being soar with pleasure as Horatio, too, pinned a very lovely rose to his breast, this one of deepest pink.
"Lover," Horatio whispered before kissing him. However, he, too, now stood back to make room for one other.
Lieutenant Archie Kennedy of 'Indefatigable' turned to see his commanding officer, Commodore Sir Edward Pellew, dark eyes shining as they gazed on him with undisguised affection. The older man was holding out a large, scarlet rose. Reverently, Archie accepted it, holding it up to inhale its sweet, heady perfume before pinning it to his breast.
His heart full, Archie stood to attention before his commanding officer, pride shining in his clear blue eyes. His lover whispered a single word.
"Beloved."
