MOVING OUT
Lola wasn't sure whether she wanted to see Wesley or not when she came to the camp that afternoon. She had agreed to collect the wedding presents the night before. Even though Enola and Holde had said they didn't want any, there were lots. Holde's men had put together trinkets, and Annabelle had gone all in, buying the things one would buy a normal couple. Of course, Annabelle hadn't thought that neither of them had a house, or a life they were setting up. They were crossing the country together, and living out of tents. They had no need for matching cutlery, but Lola had promised to deliver it from the church today nonetheless.
The camp was a flurry of activity, and she alighted from the carriage with haste. She knew the feel of an army in a panic, and she was worried that the American forces would come over the bridge at any moment and jump into battle. She took a moment to take stock and noticed that they were carrying boxes and sacks. They were moving out, and it was with haste. “Aaron,” she caught him as he went by, scraggly pirates at his elbow. “Aaron, what's happening?”
“Miss Lola,” Aaron said with a grin, his old nickname for her. “We're marching off today, as you can see. Nothing is in order, everything is chaos and that's the fun of it.”
“Today?” Lola paled. “But you can't... not so soon.”
“That's the way it is,” he paused. “The wedding gifts, of course. I forgot.”
“Should I just...take them with me?” she asked, unsure about how to proceed. “Where's Enola?”
“She and Holde should be at the loading carts...Here, come with me,” Aaron said and indicated she should follow. Lola fell in line beside the pirates, catching sight of Matheson and smiling as they hurried across the field. “You'll want to see him before you go,” Aaron said as they were walking.
“Who?” she asked, confused.
“The King,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Your husband, who do you think?”
“No, that's fine,” she answered, but her voice betrayed her.
“You still love him,” Aaron said softly. “I know you do.”
“I love who he used to be,” she said. “Not this drunken sod who thinks nothing about killing. I know it's part of your job, as fake lives are mine, but he shows no remorse. He seems the most comfortable when his sword is dripping blood.”
“That's not true,” Aaron said, although he knew that Wesley had been acting more bloodthirsty as of late. “He's just...trying to distract himself.”
“From what?” she asked. “He wasn't on trial; he didn't die. He has a house he can come home to, he isn't in hiding. And while I appreciate his solidarity with you...that was not the decision we made for him.”
Aaron stopped, the men going around as the chaos swirled around him. He shared a look with her, remembering that night in the hospital when they decided their whole world had changed.
“No,” he agreed. “That is not the choice we made for him. And I agree, he should come home to you. But I fear time has ravaged him, Lola, and you need to be gentle with him; kind.”
“Why, when he does not return it?” she asked. “I have always been clear that I will be true to myself first and foremost. I am a lady of the stage, he knew that, and now he is ashamed by it.”
“He's not ashamed!” Aaron cried. “He's terrified of it.”
“What?” she gaped.
“Lola, you travel the world, you are adored. The most beautiful people surround you, and everything is romance and beauty. Wesley was a shy, speechless, puppy dog, with his brain too fast for the rest of us, before he met you. He is an earl, yes, but the world that you live in, he fears you will see right through him.”
“That's ridiculous,” she replied. “I loved him.”
“You loved him?” Aaron asked and Lola shook her head. The past tense of the word bothered him, mostly because he knew it wasn't true. The two of them got on so well before, and he couldn't accept that it was over. He needed to know there was some happiness left in the world; some normalcy.
“I can't do this,” she said. “Not right now. Just take me to Enola and Holde; they can decide what to do with their things. I have to be on stage tonight.”
Aaron sighed, continuing to walk. “I would give anything for Shauna to be here with me,” he said quietly.
“I know that you scarified everything for the rest of us to live,” she cried. “Aaron, don't think I don't know that every moment of my life. However, does that mean I have to create a love I no longer have? Am I to be on stage even when I am off?”
“No,” he said softly. “You are free to choose what you like, Lola, and I will support you. I just wish you happiness.”
She said nothing to that, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes and stop her heart from breaking. “If you ever want to stop being a pirate and grace the stage, Lord Bamber,” she said at last. “I'm sure we'd be glad to be dazzled for you.”
Aaron smiled at that as they reached Enola's tent. “Perhaps one day, Miss Lola,” he replied.
“Hello,” Enola said when she saw Lola, interrupting them. Then her eyes widened as she realized why Lola was there “Oh my, the gifts. What are we going to do with them? We are marching, so we can't carry much.”
“Perhaps take what is useful to you?” Lola said. “And I can donate the rest?”
“That would be...preferable,” Enola said. “Let me just find Patrick.”
“Patrick,” Lola said to Aaron, as Enola scuttled off. “I see they are getting on well.”
“If one love story comes of all of this,” Aaron replied. “I think it might be theirs. But war has a way of changing everything in the blink of an eye.”
“Don't I know it,” she replied sadly.
Enola wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to ask Patrick about wedding gifts for their fake wedding. She knew that he probably wouldn't care, or that they might cause him pain after his first marriage, and that she could do what she liked with them. Nevertheless, to her surprise, he smiled, taking a moment out of his orders to walk over with her.
“There might be something useful,” he said.
“I doubt it. Cutlery and the like,” she replied. “Lady Bamber was very generous. I told her not to and reminded her that this was a marriage of convenience, but she...didn't care?”
“She might be offended if we sell them though,” Patrick replied, looking into Lola's carriage.
The actress wandered over, trying to keep a smile on her face. “Should I just keep them with me, then?” she said. “I'm going to be in the same theatre for a while, and it's not like you are going too far. From what I know, you loop back after gaining the Native forces to attack the ridge. Is that right?”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “You are partial to many of our plans, but yes,” he replied and she rolled her eyes.
“I've always known the plans. Aaron and I are the same person; it doesn't count.”
“I'm not sure Captain Bamber should be leaking sensitive information,” Patrick replied “But then...he is like that.”
“Hush,” Enola sensed a fight brewing. She knew that her new husband didn't like Bamber's sparkling attitude and attempt to smile at every turn. She knew that Patrick thought Bamber was too guarded; too fake in every interaction. Regardless, he needed to be professional and certainly not pick a fight with an actress. “What are we to do about these gifts?”
“Keep them,” Patrick said to Lola. “Perhaps one day we can collect and make use of them.”
The words caught Enola off guard. He may have meant nothing by it, but it sounded as if Patrick had a future planned for them. She hadn't considered that was really an option. She assumed that they would dissolve the marriage as soon as the task was done, somehow, no matter how they came to feel about each other.
“Enola?” Lola asked.
“That's...fine,” Enola said, trying not to sound stunned. “I've taken you away from your work, Patrick. Please, continue.”
He gave her a nod and wandered back. Lola nudged Enola. “So it seems it wasn't as terrible as you fear.”
“Don't be silly,” Enola said as she watched him go. “We're being cordial to each other, of course.”
“But last night?”
“Nothing happened last night,” Enola answered, in shock. “You are so...”
“I'm an actress before a countess, but a married woman nevertheless,” Lola smiled. “I'm well aware of the ways of the world. And I would have thought any man, marriage of convenience or not, would have...”
“Stop!” Enola cried, turning bright red and covering her face. Lola smirked.
“Alright, alright,” she said. “Anyways, I should return to the theatre so...best of luck. I'm sure I will see you again.”
“You will,” Enola answered. “I am certain of it.”
“In that case,” Lola leaned in and gave her a tight hug. “For luck then.”
“For luck,” Enola answered as Lola pulled back.
“I'll just...go say goodbye to the others.”
“Will you say goodbye to your husband as well?” Enola asked and Lola cringed.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she said. “I might wave at him from across the field if he happens to go by.”
“For luck,” Enola replied and Lola felt a pang of guilt as she crossed the camp to find Annabelle and James.
She had said goodbye to her friends so many times before that it didn't hit her hard. She was used to going on tour; to sending her friends off to war. She envied Annabelle being able to go with them, and thought of the days that she and Wesley had traveled together; happy with a few belongings, a carriage and each other.
She did see him across the field, and raised her hand to waive to him. For a moment, he looked like he considered not coming over. However, at the last moment, his feet moved and she found herself just inches from him.
“I was thinking,” he said to her without a greeting. “Whether you would consider filing for divorce? It's easier for you to do so than I.”
Her jaw dropped. “That is how you wish to march off to war?”
He let out a long breath. “What difference would it make, Lola? We're masquerading in a sham institution more than the wedding we just intended.”
She looked at the ground. “Is that what you want? I will be shamed.”
“You're an actress,” he said, and she jerked in defense. “I just meant that if you can survive society's shame of a woman on stage, you can manage being a divorcee too. What difference would it make, though, tell me?”
She felt rage, her fist clenched. “If that's what you want,” she answered. “I can manage that while you're away. You'll probably see me again; I'm not going to give up my friendships because you and I didn't work out.”
“I'm not asking you to,” he answered and swallowed, looking away.
She took a step closer to him and then cried out in alarm. “Are you drunk?”
“Does it matter?” he answered. “I know what I'm thinking.”
“Oh Lord, I'm not doing this when you're not in your right mind,” she said and threw up her hands. “File the papers when you can see straight. I'll sign them.”
With that, she turned on her heel, storming off.