Pain stabbed his chest, pounded his nape, and he clutched at it as his leg gave way, bringing him to his knees, gasping, breath wrenching, head rattling with agony.
Was the sea to claim him now? Jested with him for all these months?
Shadows shifted as he fought to remember…
Blades of pain slashed, drowning the present, the hands that clasped him, the voices raised in concern.
A face… Always out of reach.
The sea of memories overwhelmed him.
And he plunged once more into that ocean of blackness.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTERONE
“And with the light of a full moon, if we should want it, we set out again in quest of new adventures…”
Observations and Reflections Made in the Course of a Journey…
Mrs Thrale. 1789.
The Evans’ Family Estate. North-west Wales. 2ndDecember 1816.
“So, tell me, Miss Millichip, why should I employ you as travel companion?”
“Hah!”
“Hah?” Gwen queried with rather less stridency.
The lady rapped her ferocious-looking walking cane upon the floor, causing Gwen to swallow and lean back in her father’s study chair.
“It ought to be self-evident, Lady Gwen. I shall keep you safe.”
“S-safe? From what exactly?”
“Inappropriate adventures, of course.” Miss Millichip tutted and rammed her cane once more, no doubt gouging a pit in the new parquet. “Not to speak of marauding camels, over-spiced foreign fare, over-exuberant local customs and over-amorous continental males.”
Gweninwardly sighed as marauding camels apart, she rather wished to experience all of those inappropriate adventures.
The interview progressed in much the same manner – the lady promising to impede Gwen’s gaze from straying upon unseemly Roman statuary, prevent exposure of one’s ankle when mounting a mule, thwart propositions from Italian gentlemen, and ensure effective English language communication by speaking loudly and clearly.
Clearing her throat, Gwen clasped her hands. “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Millichip. Your references are excellent so I shall peruse them forthwith and let you know my decision before Christmas.”
Stitches strained as the lady yanked on her gloves, rose to her stout boots and glared across the desk. “Young chits such as yourself can too easily become lost in the sands of Egypt or the ruins of Rome so I urge you not to dally. I shall be staying in Caernarfon no longer than Tuesday. Good day.”
Young chit?
“Miss Millichip, I’ve thirty-one years to my nam…” But a billowing brown cape met Gwen’s frown as the lady plotted course for the door, glowered at the awaiting footman who hastily shoved it wide and then voyaged out like a ship in full sail.
Gwen let out a puff, dipped her quill within the ink pot and put nib to paper, scratching a line through Miss Millichip’s name. Becoming lost in the ruins of Rome was in fact number six on her rather unladylike list entitledDeeds and Intrigues to be Sought and Gained whilst Rambling Around the Continents and their Environs.
OrD.I.S.G.R.A.C.E.for short.
Other adventures to be sought were to wander the pyramids on a donkey, sail the Danube with loosened hair, pick ripe oranges in Italy and perhaps embark upon a torrid affair with an Austrian archduke. She bit her lip as mayhap that last adventure would be beyond the capability of her nature but…
Gathering her shawl, she signalled the footman to depart, then rose from the study chair and wandered to the window.
