Will had resigned himself to having to make do on board the ship. Making do, transpired to be a lot more difficult than he had expected.

As soon as he and Hattie got on board that afternoon and went to their cabin, Will knew the trip home was going to be an interesting one.

The cabin would have been cramped for one person. With two it was more of a crush. With nowhere else on board to store their luggage, Will’s travel trunk had been dragged into the space between the bed and the end wall. The space it took up effectively cut the small writing table against the other wall in half. The chair at the table was now jammed in hard between the trunk and the edge of the table. The travel bag Will had purchased for Hattie sat on top of the table.

Between the table and the bed there was enough room for the pair of them to stand, but do little else. It was a tight squeeze to reach the back wall of the cabin.

The only redeeming feature, was the bank of double windows along the back wall of the cabin; the warm light and view of the sea beyond gave the illusion of more space.

As he closed the door behind him, Hattie turned to Will.

“Whilst not ideal, I can understand that you and I shall have to endure the cramped conditions if we are to make it home. What I do not understand is where the two of us are supposed to sleep,” she said.

On his trip down to the dockside earlier that morning, it had not occurred to Will that one cabin, also meant one bed. While the bed in question was sizeable and clearly designed to hold two people, sharing it with Hattie was an impossibility.

“I shall go and speak with the captain. I am certain he will have a spare hammock in the crew’s quarters in which I can sleep. In the meantime, just unpack your things and make yourself at home. I shall come and get you before we sail, so you can say your final farewells to Gibraltar.”

* * *

As the London bound ship finally drew away from the dock, Will let out a large sigh of relief. He had managed to get Hattie on board the Canis Major and in a matter of days, she would be back in England.

He looked down at his hands as they held onto the ship’s rail, surprised at how tense he had been until the moment the gangplank was finally raised.

On the walk back to the hotel earlier that morning, he had considered Hattie’s situation. From the snippets of information, he had thus far managed to garner during their short time together, he had what he considered to be a reasonable estimation of matters.

Mr. and Mrs. Wright, he deduced were her parents. Hattie’s slip of the tongue at Europa Point had not gone unnoted. Her father had seen the Rock of Gibraltar as they sailed into port.

The real Miss Sarah Wilson was likely a maid or another missionary. When Hattie had been forced to come up with a false name, she had used the name of the first person who came to mind.

As for the last member of the travelling party, the Reverend Peter Brown, Will had his bets placed on him being the fiancé Hattie had been so desperate to escape from.

That left Will with an unexpected problem.

Who was left in London for Hattie? He could not return her to England and simply let her walk off the boat and disappear into the unknown.

“I can't say I'm not happy to see the back of this place,” Hattie remarked.

Will turned as she reached the top of the steps and came to stand beside him. She surveyed the town of Gibraltar as it slowly slipped away. He meanwhile studied her.

She had taken the news of their travelling situation without a hint of displeasure. Had things been so bad with her family and fiancé that she was willing to undergo any form of discomfort just to get home?

As the ship cleared the head of the harbor, the wind began to pick up. A sudden gust had her staggering on her feet. Instinctively he reached out and took hold of her arm.

“Thank you, Mr. Saunders,” she said.

As she leaned over the ship’s railing to get a better look, he continued to hold fast to her arm. The last thing he needed was for her to topple overboard. In the back of his mind was also the notion that she may jump. Foolish though it was, he was still uncomfortable with his charge being anywhere near to the side of the ship.

“When did we go back to being formal with one another,” he asked.

He caught the edge of a frown on her face as Hattie turned away.

“I don't know. It feels a little too familiar, especially now that we are among other people,” she replied.

Considering that they would be spending the next week or so sharing a cramped cabin on board the ship, remaining on such a formal basis seemed odd. He had decided that continuing the façade of being an engaged couple was the safest option. He had to convince her to call him Will.

“Just remember the crew think we are a betrothed couple, you might want to show me a little more friendship, if not affection,” he cautioned.

If she did, there was a good chance her mask would slip a little and he would be granted a further glimpse of her true self. He wondered just how much of that she had already revealed to him.

Whatever her truth, he had to know more of it before they reached London. While they were on the boat, she could not hide easily from him or the multitude of questions which were currently swirling around in his head.

Will pursed his lips. He was a patient man when the mood took him, but Hattie was surprisingly testing his mettle. He reached out a hand and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek.

She shivered.

“It's cool in the sea breeze,” she said. His touch had been so light, she had not seemed to notice.

Her Spanish made cotton gown gave her little protection against the chill of the sea wind. Will quickly unbuttoned his greatcoat and offered it to her. When he had purchased several new functional day gowns for her, it had not occurred to him that she would need a coat. Gibraltar was not exactly a place for heavy English wool overcoats.

“Thank you,” she said, slipping her arms into his oversized coat. The coat went all the way down to her feet. It looked a little ridiculous, Will found it utterly charming.

She is getting under your skin.

“Well you shall not be cold up on deck if you make sure to wear it,” Will observed.

Fortunately, he was returning to England with all his belongings and somewhere within his travel trunk a second wool coat was stored.

With the ship now clear of the harbor, the captain turned the ship’s bow northward. Hattie looked back over her shoulder toward the south, toward Africa. The mountains of Morocco slowly became a tiny speck in the distance before finally disappearing.

She sniffed back tears and wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand.

“Regrets?” he asked.

She met his gaze.

“None,” she replied.

Conflict wracked Will’s brain. If he was to return Hattie safely to her family, he had to know who in London would take this young woman in and offer her a home. Her parents were on their way to Africa, and no matter the circumstances of her leaving them, he still owed them a duty to ensure he delivered her into the hands of someone in England who cared for her. His questions demanded answers.

The view from the ship's deck soon became one of repetition, the blue ocean stretched out for miles on the portside with only a thin brown line of land on the starboard. Within an hour they had both retired to the cramped cabin. Hattie curled up asleep on the bed while Will squeezed into the seat at the tiny writing desk and continued to make notes for his first few days back in London.

He had a few personal belongings with him in his travel trunk, the rest of his possessions had been shipped home the day he left Paris for the final time.

Having lived in lodgings for several years, he had not required much in the way of furniture but upon deciding he was moving permanently back to England, Will had set about purchasing enough elegant and expensive pieces of furniture to fill a house. When he got to London, he intended to rebuild his life. A wife and family lay ahead in those plans.

When Hattie finally stirred from her slumber, Will decided it was time to confront her.

* * *

She knew it was inevitable. The only thing which truly surprised her was that Will had left his questioning until this late into the sea journey.

From the moment they had stepped on board, she had been waiting for him to press her further about her origins. About her family.

As she opened her eyes she could see him seated on the chair facing her, his hands held tightly together in front.

“Hattie, we need to talk,” he said.

“Yes.”

The word was out of her mouth before she realized what she had said. Will had called her by her real name, and she fool that she was, had answered him.

Her sense of gratitude that the door of the cabin had a lock was instantly diminished by the sight of Will holding the key in his hand. Any hope for escape was effectively blocked.

How had Will discovered her real name?

The only sign of emotion he displayed at her response was to sit back in the chair and let out a low whistle. His face remained implacable. From his outwardly indifferent demeanor, she knew this was not the first time he had sat someone down and interrogated them. The tale of him being a merchant was a convenient lie.

What had he said about his time on the continent? She wracked her brains. For all her evasiveness, he too had managed to reveal little of himself or his past.

“Good. Well at least we have established your real name,” he said.

“How?” she replied.

He stood up from the chair, and put the key in his coat pocket.

“This morning I went to the shipping office down at the dockside. When you and your parents came ashore you were all registered with the local port authority. It didn’t take long for me to find your name among the list of passengers from the Blade of Orion.”

Hattie pushed her back up against the cabin wall. While it did little in a physical sense, it at least helped her to mentally create distance between them. Hot tears came to her eyes and her hands started to shake. She felt herself on the verge of losing control. She clasped her hands together and sucked in several deep breaths.

Hattie looked down at her tightly twisted hands. What was she to do now?

“What do you want?” she finally replied.

He met her gaze. An unexpected softness appeared on his face. The same warmth shone in his eyes as had done at St Michael’s cave. She gritted her teeth, refusing to allow herself to be fooled by his act once again.

“I want the truth Hattie. As I have said before, I cannot help you if you refuse to let me do so. I do not need to know it all, keep whatever secrets you feel you need. But after all that I have done for you, I deserve some explanation.”

She sat and stared at her hands while she contemplated his words.

They were at sea. The next landfall was England. If she did tell him the truth, there was little he could do between now and when the ship reached London. For all that he had done for her, he really did deserve the truth. Or some of it at least.

“What do you want to know?”

“Good. May I suggest a good place to start would be an explanation of how it was that you came to be floating in Gibraltar harbor,” he replied.

Hattie climbed off the bed, and walked over to the window. Under the window was a small padded wooden bench. It would be the sort of place to sit and read a book on a long sea voyage.

She sat down, relieved when Will made no indication to move from his spot closer to the door.

Where exactly was she to begin? For such a longtime, her life had been about serving others. No one had ever asked for her story.

“My parents underwent a religious conversion several years ago. My father renounced much of our privileged life as being wicked and not worthy of the path he had chosen to follow. I have spent much of the past two years working in the rookery of St Giles trying to help those less fortunate than us.

About a year ago Papa met the Reverend Peter Brown and his whole focus shifted. Peter Brown convinced my father that the poor of London were not enough. His plans were grander. Rendering earthly assistance meant nothing, when there were thousands of souls they could be converting. That’s when they hit upon the idea that a mission to Africa was what their life’s work would become.”

Speaking the words out aloud made her father and Peter Brown sound cold and calculating, but it was the truth. They now saw their work as being all about numbers. The number of people they could bring under their spiritual guidance in Sierra Leone was what drove both men on.

“And you and your mother went along with the plan; but somewhere along the way you decided to take a different path. When did you first realize that you did not want the same as them?” asked Will.

Her mother, yes. All Hattie’s life her mother had done as her husband instructed. Her parent’s marriage was a practical one. Even when her father had taken Hattie out of the London social scene in the middle of her first season, her mother had said nothing to stop him.

For herself, she had hoped for a time that the mission to Africa was a plan on paper at worst. But as the day of their sailing drew ever closer a fear began to grow within.

Reverend Brown began to pay her special attention. Her parents were oft to remark on his fine character, recommending him to her.

She had ignored the obvious signs; and thrown herself into her work. Eventually even she could not ignore the clear plans of others.

Hattie closed her eyes as tears began to run freely down her face. She had been a part of a family, yet had been so alone.

Will rose from his chair, but she waved him away. If she was to tell her story, it had to be on her terms. She was surprised by the slow anger which began to simmer in the back of her mind as she talked about her father and Reverend Brown.

When her father announced her engagement to Peter Brown she feared the battle was lost. Daily her willpower has been assailed with plans and pronouncements for their combined futures. She had come so close to capitulating.

“The day my mother told me my cat would not be coming with us. That was the day I knew,” she replied.

A nervous titter escaped her lips. It was absurd to think that it had taken the impending loss of her mangy cat Brutus for Hattie to finally see sense.

“They expected me to give up everything. My home, my life and everything I held dear. That was two months ago. I’ve been trying to find a way to avoid going ever since.”

“I panicked the morning we set sail from Gibraltar. Reverend Brown had pressed my father to allow him to share my cabin and my father had agreed. I knew if I didn’t jump, then I would likely be pregnant by the time we reached Sierra Leone. Once we arrived, there would be nothing left for me but to become his wife.”

Hattie felt nauseous. It was not the motion of the boat. She had seen the life which had been set out for her and known it was a life of misery and loneliness.

Ignoring her protests, Will pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She felt the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Her heart desperately hoping that someone finally did understand.

“Thank you. I know that took an enormous amount of courage to tell. Thank you for trusting me enough and allowing me to finally understand.”