The ship docked in the twilight hour. I have convinced myself that I watched that very vessel pull into port from the window facing the sea, but so many came and went as I sat admiring the landscape, that I cannot be sure. A knock at my door lifted me to my feet and I opened the door to find a young man, dressed in the clothing of a ship's hand, his arm extended with an envelope laying in his hand. I smiled and thanked him, completely unaware of its origin. I returned to the window and used the dwindling light to see from whence the letter came and my heart stopped: "Massachussets," I spoke aloud.

Every fiber of my being shouted out for me to open the letter and see what news was brought from the colonies, but something in me stayed my hand from doing so. I turned, quickly and made haste to the square to see if Signore Stern was anywhere about. I found myself quite often seeking his perspective and well-balanced advice when in La Rocca; he would know what should be done.

I found him standing outside the tavern, and quickly curtsied, showing him the letter in my trembling hand, asking him for his counsel, and he wisely suggested we go to his office to learn what might be detailed within, for it would be best to know, than to suppose. He ushered me into his office and sat silently, at his desk, and the gravity of such a dispatch settled upon me. I knew that no matter the tidings, there would be a great amount of change, yet again, in my every-day life. Finally summoning the courage to slip the sharp opener into the envelope, I sliced across and opened the letter, my eyes seeking out one sentence in particular, and there it was...

"...regret to inform you that the Baron left this earth on....."

We discussed the potential for myself to be sole heir of the Baron's fortune, and the unlikelihood of his being in any real debt and it was suggested that I ask my father's solicitor to see to the matters of the Baron's will. There were so many intricacies to death that I had not imagined. I was very grateful to have Signore Stern to guide me through the landscape.

Time seemed to speed up, suddenly. I was packed and aboard a ship, then back to England in a carriage before my mind could digest what had happened, as the sun peeked over the horizon. I arrived at the manor, and before doing anything else, saw to my black being put in order. I chose an appropriate gown and gathered the servants to tell them the news; the Baron's old servants were visibly upset and I found a duty in consoling them gently, despite our unhappy beginning. So much to see to, even without a body laid out in the parlor, that it was nearly nightfall before I knew it, and after a small meal, I went for my evening walk.

I stretched my neck as I walked, the warm breeze cooling as it blew across the surface of Ardingly Lake, and I finally made it around to my friends, the lions on the fountain, before the sun fully set. I looked up, watching the sky transform from blue to pink and orange and smiled, then looking down into the fountain's base to see my reflection: a pale and travel-weary young woman, dressed in black, wavering as the water's surface was churned from the spigots' endless stream. Beyond the image, a small coin lay alone in the water.

Quite suddenly, I was overcome with emotion. It seemed that I had been a prisoner all of my life; to the honor of my name, to the wishes of my parents, to the expectations of society, or most recently (and thankfully short-lived) a coarse and crude husband. And here I was on the threshold of the cage whose door had just been opened, and like so many kept in captivity I simply stood there, unable to step through.

The warm summer sun, in a final act before acquiescing to the moon, beat down upon the stones, removing all trace of rain. The fading rays peeked through the clouds sending diamonds afloat on the shimmering water of the fountain. My walk brought me here on many nights since I became mistress of the manor, and tonight was no different.

My vision lowered to the floor of the fountain's pool and I wondered that there were no coins there. Had the Baron become so accustomed to his method of acquiring wealth and lands and provision that he had forgotten how to wish? My breath became labored as his image came to mind. Rough hands and rougher manners. Briefly, I imagined him on his sickbed and yearned for news of his demise. I shook my head as if to ward off the mental picture, and refocused.

The lions on the plinth roared silently as an endless stream of liquid poured from their fearsome mouths into the base. I reached into my pocket, and my hand closed around an object. I brought it out into the fading light and smiled at the ducat; or moreso, what it represented: the images of La Rocca, and of my friends so well-met there. I hoped that recent letters sent had reached them in time to urge them come and keep me company.

My teeth grazed my lower lip and I felt a small surge of hope in my breast. Quickly, I dispatched it, and held the coin between index finger and thumb over the fountain whispering so that even the nearby birds could not hear me:

"I would wish for love. I would wish for adventure. I would wish an escape from my current situation. But no . . . none of these shall be mine until fortune bestows on me that which I need and not desire. And so, today, I simply wish...."

I left my fate to fortune as the sun glinted off the coin before it sank into the horizon. End over end over end, and finally, noiselessly, sliced through the surface of the water and gently landed at the bottom of the fountain. A wavering mark of my hope, barely visible, but clearly present.

I turned, walking toward the manor and stopped to pick a bloom, breathing in its sweet perfume and softly murmuring: "I shall be patient."

I wandered about the manor tonight as a ghost, haunting each room before finally opening the doors to the Baron's private library. My fingers played along the spines of his many books, likely unopened, I mused. I disliked that he was so unlikable, but I disliked myself even more for how very much I wished him ill. It seemed patently unfair to me, that I should end up in such a situation; the prospect of widow or drudge staring me down from wherever the fates might reside.

Letting out a shaky sigh, I turned to leave, when I noticed that the evening sun had created a pool of light upon the Baron's desk. The sun glinted off the glass jar of ink and beckoned me to write... but to whom? And of what? All that I knew and trusted knew of my plight. And yet... within my heart, a single letter remained unwritten.

I moved past the heavy chairs toward the desk, my skirts rustling like dried leaves in autumn as I passed. I lay my hand on the sheet of blank parchment there and it was warm, inviting me to pour my thoughts onto it. I sat, then plucked the quill from its resting spot and dipped the point into the ink, obliging the paper, and began to write.

"Edward:

You will never know the sorrow I endured at your handling my heart as if it were the mere plaything of a child who had grown too old for such frivolous diversions and so casts it off as refuse:

Unneeded, unwanted, unloved.

As I read your letter, above the crashing waves and the shrieks of gulls, above the noise of the marketplace, and cries of the purveyors and footfalls and wagon wheels, I heard my heart softly shatter. And each shard, as it fell, embedded in my very soul. You not only cast me out of your life, but into an abyss of darkness so pitch black and seemingly bottomless that I fell beyond its core, and upon finally hitting ground, found myself in a landscape that surely even the depths of Hell cannot boast. No tree bore leaves or fruit. No water lapped at the cracked and thirsty shore.

And there I resided; exiled by your cruel and off-handed rejection. You may be satisfied that your regard for me, once so highly esteemed, once taken from me, left me there to perish. You may well rebuke yourself for your behavior, for well you know that you did not display friendship to me as your letter proposed.

It matters not, for regardless how long I resided in the darkness, my tears cannot fall forever, although, in truth, they still fall, at times when I am alone, and left to my thoughts. But these more recent tears are not for you, but for myself.

My tears fall for who I once was; for surely you have committed the most unspeakable murder of t he innocent and naive girl who believed your professions of love, and who willingly gave up everything to run away to be with you.

And who is left standing in the shadow of that corpse? I look into my mirror and I do not see your victim, but a young woman who, daily, feels the sharp pains of healing in a still-hopeful heart. Her eyes have lost the glimmer of idealistic fancy, and her heart is now cracked, but not irreparable.

My heart still beats within my breast, and my eyes look outward to the future with the hopes of one who is wary but wiser, and the knowledge that out there, somewhere is someone who will claim this fragile and damaged heart.

Gently placing the quill down, and leaving the balance of the letter unwritten, I blotted the page gently, preserving each neatly penned word. It seemed apropos that I should leave it open and not sign it. I knew that someday I would be able to write a preferable postscript, and one that I would joyously affix my name to.

I sat back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before rising and carefully folding the letter into the shape of a heart. I walked to the mantel and held it up before the flames, watching as the glow transfused itself into a deep orange and red upon the paper, and did not shed a tear as I spoke quietly "Goodbye, Edward" before tossing the letter into the flames, watching it curl as it turned to ash.

" I shuddered to think he might come limping back to England after our triumph there, hailed as a hero, and looking to have me tend to him day and night, turned from young woman to drudge. This, I could not bear. I had to set to work so that the wheel of fortune might once again spin in my favor."

See the full post at:

http://oliviachapman.blogspot.com/2013/07/o-fortuna.html

"...I looked up quickly, into the eyes of the man who would be my partner on the journey of life, and saw not love, but something else. I had seen that look before on the faces of the many merchants who had come to see Papa. It was the look of a deal well made..."

See the whole post at:

http://oliviachapman.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-baron-takes-wife.html

((Although Belgium was known as the "Austrian Netherlands" during the period of this story, I've kept it simple and left it by its current name -- it may not be era-specific, but it's easier, and easy always wins... or something))

For two weeks, we sailed. The ocean lurched and rolled, mimicking the anxious nature of my heart. Dressed in common and concealing rags to stave off unwanted advances from the crewmen, Lady Gabrielle and I have done our best to earn our passage. We have learned to tie knots, and done laundry with sea water. My hands are red and raw, my neck and arms are tanned hide from the sun's reflection on the waves, and my hair ... oh dear, my hair. But all of these great sacrifices are happily paid, so that I might see a certain man at a cafe, and learn the whereabouts of my beloved. I would withstand a year of this, and worse, to look upon his face again.

The food aboard is quite unpalatable to me, but each night I have taken a bowl of soup or stew and a heel of bread with grateful hunger and enthusiasm, for each meal marks another day we are at sea, and another strike upon the days until I see him again.

Yesterday, I stood on the main deck, beside my loyal and true friend. Lady G and I were doing exceptionally poorly with our knot-tying lessons from a sweet boy, Dan, who did his best to be a gentleman and not to laugh at our miserable failures. So intent were we on our lesson, and for so long did we toil that I did not see a land mass, rising magically from the endless blue rippling satin of the ocean.

A call of "Land, Ho!" was heard from the crow's nest, above, and I froze. Hands ceased to work on the knot. Only the few tendrils of hair which I was unable to tame were brushing my cheek. I dared not raise my view for a few minutes that felt like weeks, for fear of finding it was an error, or worse, a prank. Finally, I lifted my head and there it was. A hazy smudge on the horizon that, while I watched, took shape from simple form to detailed land, and a town's walls grew from within it, as if it were being painted by some celestial hand before my eyes.

I stood, staring, and the vision blurred. I reached out my hand as if to urge the painter to continue, until I realized that this creation was not being undone; it was only my tears of happiness which robbed the details from my view.

There was a growing sound coming from the direction of the land, as well. The constant snap of the sails above and the roar of the sea below were replaced by creaking wagon wheels, cries of purveyors, and the rising and falling of the voices of those near the pier; I mused that this new sound ebbed and flowed just as the ocean, but this wave would bring me to shore.

To shore!

I dropped the length of rope I had been holding, at my feet and spun around, dashing for the cabin to do what I could to be more presentable. I ripped gown after gown out of my flung-open trunk and settled on one that would do. Turning, I held it up to my fuzzy reflection in the looking glass and found myself unsure. Would he dislike me, so disheveled, and undone? What of our future? I could not always be what he had met; surely not, now that I had left behind my inheritance. Worry tried to worm its way into my mind, until a bell rang, signaling that our ship was coming into port. Gabrielle rushed into the cabin and I grasped her hand, trembling with the deluge of emotion rushing through me: terror, exhilaration, joy and worry all rushed through my veins like a heady wine. I burst out, half laughing, half crying and made my way behind the dressing screen, and Lady G. saw that my corset was tightened, and all as it should be. Dear G. I know I should have gone mad without her temperate and reassuring voice each day.

My fichu discarded and each measure of fabric properly placed, I emerged from the cabin to see the crew sliding the gangplank down to the pier. I nearly ran to be the first disembarking, but the Captain's hand caught my arm, gently, "M'lady.... we must wait." What was he thinking!? I must depart! I must find the cafe that Edward told me of!! My face must have been full of righteous outrage, for his tone softened and he blocked the view of my paradise; my escape.

Captain Zeffirelli pulled me aside and out of the line of crewman throwing lines and securing the gangplank "We've just now landed in port, M'lady. We'll do a bit of waiting for now. My first mate has gone to speak to the tide waiters, to clear that all may go ashore. Here, I have set up a chair near the rail, so that you might watch its progress." Such a kind and thoughtful gesture brought me back to my senses and I merely smiled and allowed him to pull the chair back slightly so that I might sit; gathering my skirts as I did so, but leaning forward, intently. The Captain sat not far off, strumming a lute and I silently censured myself for not having the forethought to bring more coins with me. I would want to properly thank the Captain for allowing such dangerous cargo on board his ship.

Time passed, and we conversed. I did my best to be interested, engaging and pleasant but each moment that passed seemed to extend the distance between Edward and myself.... a distance I could not bear.

When the voice of the first mate below yelled "All clear to go ashore, Captain!" I feared that my heart would burst from my chest and I stood quickly, eyes on the Captain to be assured that we now could finally make progress. His head nodded, a small and fleeting smile on his face before returning to the proud and capable Captain. Lady G joined us, and we made our way down to the pier, and through the city gates into a bustling town center. So much noise after the wind, the ocean and creaking ship being my ear's companions. I understood now, in some small measure, why the Captain chose the serenity of the sea.

I looked around, turning this way and that, until finally catching the eye of a young girl passing with a basket of goods

"Excuse me.... would you be so kind as to direct me to the cafe?"

Her answer, a wry smile and a pointed finger over my right shoulder "Just over there, Madame"

I curtsied, slightly blushing for having missed what was so near before me and the Captain, Lady G. and myself made our way through the crowd to an empty table sitting on the square. Before long, a servant came and asked us if we would be interested in some food and drink. The Captain saw to ordering and I jumped at the chance to ask if the owner of the cafe might visit our table. So eager to find out my next destination, was I.

The servant smiled and I expected an answer in the affirmative, but was told "Oh, Madame, he is not here tonight! Tomorrow morning he will be here with the dawn, M'Lady!" before turning with a small curtsey and moving to retrieve our wine. My heart sank; so impatient to be rejoined with my heart. The Captain and Lady G. were so reassuring, so kind, so understanding.

The night passed without my eyelids meeting. Every so often I would tumble from the bunk aboard the ship and seek out any sign of dawn, while a groggy and half-sleeping Gabrielle would mutter "Daniela.... patience," so accustomed as we were to using different names to travel under.

Finally, the dark turned to a golden hue, and while my companion slumbered soundly, I pulled on my gown and fastened the robes around me. I ran my hand along the wall to guide me and alit onto an eerily empty deck. The crew, full of wine and exhausted from their merriment, no doubt, were nowhere in sight.

I made my way into the town just as the carts, full of fresh supplies were guided by their purveyors to their daily spots, and saw a robust gentleman giving direction to the servants at the cafe.

"Sir...." I quietly intruded "I have traveled weeks to reach this destination in the hopes that you might place within my hands a note of great import to my future..." His expression of annoyance at interruption was replaced with confusion, and then with realization as he snapped his fingers, remembering "Yes! I was given the task and no small reward for seeing that a certain message might reach a young lady matching your description," he replied, and without hesitation he waddled into the cafe for but a moment, returning with a letter. Emblazoned on its face: Olivia

I stood holding this treasure and smiled up at him with glimmering eyes, unable to impart my thanks for his great part in this adventure and he waved me off, saying "Go on and get your news. I hope the writer's ills don't trouble him long, he seemed quite pale but quite intent on this delivery."

I stood, perplexed, and as the shadows lengthened, stood in the town square, reading the words:

"My dear Olivia,

I shall forever feel the weight of my distress in learning that you believed I wished for you to accompany me here. I have just recently got word that your plans to marry the Baron were interrupted by some misleading fancy that I felt for you what he feels.

You must consider me cowardly for not making it plain to you sooner than this, but my dear, had I the slightest inclination that you felt for me, more than my own steadfast friendship, I would have set you straight -- this you must believe.

I pray your journey has not brought you any ill, and that your return shall be a passage of fair winds and calmest oceans. I look forward to the happy tidings of your marriage, and wish for you, my dearest friend, nothing but happiness.

Sincerely,

Edward"

The paper fluttered to the ground, soundlessly. The sun bore down in its heavenly brilliance upon the hats and heads gathered in the square. The ocean lapped at the shore. And in my breast, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

_________________________________________________________________

In England, the Duke sat seeing to documents as the Duchess embroidered near the fire, occasionally repeating things she had heard from her maid (a hopeless gossip). He did not hear her, for his mind was occupied with just one question:

Had his fastest ship been fast enough to deliver a large payment to a certain young man, and had he purchased his disappearance?

(to be continued....)

[A letter is found by the maid, Katie, on Olivia's desk, marked to her parents but not sent by any courier. It is immediately sent by rider to the Northern estate house]

Dearest Mama and Papa:

I have written this over and again, in an attempt to tell my feelings, but time runs short, and I must finally have it done. I have received Mama's letter advising me to follow with haste her instructions to come North and to marry the Baron Clive. I know now that Katie must have spied upon me, and I know that she is not true and loyal to me, but to you both. This saddens me beyond words, but so be it. I shall tell you, in my own words, what she chose to tell you in her's.

These several weeks, I have come to know and to love a young man. This, in itself, should bring joy to the hearts of a young girl's parents, but I find myself instead faced with a consequence of that love which I cannot bear. I am quite sure that the Baron Clive is a fine and noble gentleman. I am also quite sure that you have the best intentions for my future in the match. But, I pray you... both of you... think back to when you first met. I have heard the story told to me as long as I can remember; how great a love that you, Papa, felt for you, Mama, and how he would bear no obstacle to your marriage.

Fortune smiled upon you, as there was no impediment to the match, in that a gentle birth was assured and peerage proven. Answer this with your heart, Papa, I beg you: Were that not so, would you have given up your great love for the betterment of your fortune?

I know that you believe me a good and loving daughter, and I know within the very core of my heart that I have, for as long as I have lived, I have followed your instruction, regardless of its impact upon myself. But, I cannot do so now. I cannot and will not do as you command. Not this time.

My heart is set upon this young man. I shall not tell you his name for I know that you would do him ill, Papa. I have packed what I am able in short time, and am leaving England this very night to seek him out in another country. I shall not tell you of my whereabouts or any details of my passage until we are joined in a bond before the eyes of the Creator.

Know that my heart is heavy with this choice, for I wish to be a good and obedient daughter, and be a blessing to you both.

Please thank the Baron for his generous and tempting offer, and advise him that I am unable to accept his proposal, for I am promised to another.

I shall write as soon as I am able, and until then, please know that I am your loving daughter, and devoted to your every happiness, but this.

Olivia

_________________________________________________________________________

In the country house, as the Duke and Duchess enjoy an afternoon on the lawn, a rider hands the letter over, and a roar of anger is expelled from her father's lungs. He immediately stands, toppling the table and the tea, as her mother takes the letter and reads. Her expression turns to one of horror as the Duke storms toward the stables.

Before he can ride off, however, the Baron arrives in his carriage holding up a small brown book and calling out to the Duke. A short conversation ensues, and it becomes clear that the maid had been watching Olivia's actions closely, and although Olivia had made every effort to hide the few trunks she meant to flee with, Katie found them, and pulled her journal from the contents. The Duke reads its contents, sure that this will prove useful in tracking her, gives his blessing to the Baron to take it, and use it as he sees fit.

Shortly after, at the pier, the Duke sees that six of his fleet of merchant vessels are sent out. Four to the North, South, East and West, one to La Rocca Sorrentina, (where Olivia had traveled to often) carrying the Baron onboard, and one to France to seek information there.

The Duke returns to find the Duchess overcome with worry. He does his best to soothe her, but something that he read in the journal comes to mind and he tells her not to fret; that he will return in a fortnight, and all will be well. The Duchess, assured of a positive outcome, seems calmer, and the Duke sets out for a destination mentioned more than just in passing in Olivia's journal. He tells no one.

____________________________________________________________________________________

To be continued....

((OOC: I would like to thank a very dear friend for the inspiration to write this story line. You've pulled me from the mire of complacency and dissatisfaction into a new world of possibilities. Yes. You did. Shush.))

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I have not written of this clearly, until now. I feel that I shall perish with the telling of it, but so it must be... I need assurance that this all actually occurred, and this entry shall be my last and only remnant of a path not taken.

Each night since seeing the man outside my windows, I had thought of him. Of how his head tilted slightly forward, the dim reflection of the moonlight on his eyes, the shape of his mouth, and his fine, clear brow. So often did I dream of him, that I convinced myself he did not exist, but was merely the projection of a bored and ill contented mind, seeing what it wished to see.

Until five days after.

Whilst walking along the grounds, a figure appeared in the distance. At first, just the shape of a man. And then clearer until it formed the very gentleman I saw. My heart nearly leapt from my chest, and I had to dig my nails into my palms to prevent myself from running towards him. When first our eyes met, we knew. We both felt it there, between us, like a hazy wall of light in deepest summer that makes all things seem to shimmer within its heated grasp. Finally, I learned his name: Edward Stafford. Edward. My heart wrapped around each syllable, and held it close as he spoke it. He bowed, and I curtsied, but neither of us cared of such things. The sun was warm, and only small clouds painted the canvas of the sky above our heads.

He turned and offered his arm, and I, so eager to learn more of him, accepted it gratefully. We walked but a little, stopping to turn and look at one another. So handsome, and engaging, and polite, was he. As he told me of his life, I relished each word, watching his face as it changed expression. He was a budding composer and son of a local land owner; likely to be saddled with the land and its tenancies and responsibilities, but still hopeful was he of a change in his fortune, so that he might pursue his own passions.

I pushed aside the thoughts that often came to mind in such meetings: that he would not be a match approved of by my parents, and simply walked with him as if we two were already promised, and our future union blessed. The simple act of walking with him, being near to him, and finally hearing his voice, and how he leaned over to look upon me when he made me laugh brought me to a happier place than I believe I had been in far too long.

When the rain started again, as it so often does, out of nowhere, I turned as if to bring him back to the house, but he (wisely) suggested we run beneath the nearby bridge for cover. We smiled at one another and ran, hand in hand, like children, toward the mossy stones, where I lost my footing and nearly fell into the stream. But he, so deft and quick, caught me and in a moment that I will carry with me for as long as I occupy this earth, his eyes locked with mine. I looked up at him, unaware that my arms were encircling him, and his lips were upon mine. O, I still feel them now... So warm and soft, so urgent in their passion, yet so careful and so gentle.

And from this entry, anyone would believe that my tarot reading sprang to life. That my path was clearly chosen, and that from that day henceforth, all would be as if in a fairy tale. And oh, in that day, it was. The rain with gentle tiny fingers caressed our faces as we kissed. And even in that rain, a stream of sunlight poured down upon us as if providence itself were bestowing its blessing.

We spoke again. And again. We planned our escape. He thought Belgium a place we two could steal away to. And each day I moved one gown, one pair of slippers, one hair pin, one hat, one belonging, to a place where they could be taken at a moment's notice. I used excuses of repair, of giving them to the less fortunate. Any excuse to avoid suspicion. I grew closer to stepping over the threshold and into my future and each day closer brought such joy to me, that my friends likely believed me ill. T'was that I was so deep in thought of when my horse threw me, and t'was that which brought a brighter smile to my greetings.

Oh, but such paths are not to be taken.

On the day of our first meeting. On the day of my lips first knowing their mate, I did not see my maid... formerly my mother's maid, Katie, as she crossed the bridge, returning from the market. She must have spied us. And I have no doubt that she immediately reported it to Mama. Oh that selfish, shrew! That I could go back in time and see her, I would give her anything... anything... just not to do what she has done...

Today, upon my return from a very lively and insightful book discussion, a letter was handed to me by Katie. I should have known the contents by the guilty expression on her face.

Nothing could have prepared me for this....

Dearest Daughter,

I write to tell you to come North immediately. Your Papa and I have finally agreed upon a match.

You are to marry Robert Clive a Baron of good fortune and although his age is advanced beyond what I had hoped for you, my dear Olivia, I fear that some rumors have reached me that make this match imperative.

Your things will be packed and moved upon completion of the nuptials, one week hence at the Parish here at the country estate.

Make haste, my dearest daughter, for your future awaits you, and your groom must away to the colonies shortly after.

Your own Mama

Flinging the letter to the floor as if its words could be removed if never looked upon again, I sank down against the doors. I have never cried so hard without any tears; as if my tears had turned to ash, and my dreams burned to blackened, lifeless embers. The hope for my happy future is over. Edward is away seeing to lodgings at our final destination, and when he returns, I will have gone. He will think me uncaring and I shall never be able to tell him this is not my doing. I have no doubts that the servants will do all they can to dissuade him from following me, should that be his inclination.

I am inconsolable. I can only hope that this Baron... this horrid man who has stolen away my dreams... shall go to the colonies forever...

[the entry ends with smudged droplets... evidence of tears lace the page]