For someone who was many miles from home and with an uncertain future, Hattie slept well. The only time she woke during the long night was when the revelers from the hotel's bar spilled out into the streets in the hour before dawn and started singing a loud sea shanty. At the sound of the less than Sunday hymn like tune, she rolled over in her bed and stuffed the pillow over her head.

Her father, wherever on the high seas he was would be horrified to know that his daughter was sleeping above a tavern. She chortled softly before going back to sleep.

The morning however, found her in a more somber mood. Somewhere in the jumble of her dreams Hattie had seen the grief-stricken faces of her parents. She woke, sure in the knowledge that her parents believed her dead.

“How stupid could I have been? How selfish,” she cried.

While she had been sitting drinking wine with Will and enjoying the delights of the local cuisine, her parents were likely beside themselves with grief.

No one had seen her jump from the ship. For all they knew she had fallen overboard somewhere far from land, never to be seen again.

Seated on the edge of her bed, she hugged herself as sobbing shudders of guilt wracked her body.

No matter what she thought of her parents' decision to take her to Africa, they did not deserve this cruel punishment. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do to alleviate their pain. A letter sent on the fastest ship would still take many weeks to catch up to them. She had made a rash decision and left others, including Will, to pay for it.

The damage was done.

When her maid knocked on the door a short while later, Hattie reluctantly allowed her in. The last thing she wanted to consider was which one of her pretty new gowns she was going to wear that day. The most she felt she deserved was to wear her old salt stained gown and get about bare foot.

Dressed in the plainest of her new gowns, she sat in front of the dressing table while her maid set her hair in a simple style. The maid had the good sense not to mention the tear stains on Hattie’s face and her bloodshot eyes.

There was a knock at the door, and Will’s voice drifted in from the hall. The maid quickly opened the door and Will stepped into the room.

He took one look at Hattie’s face before turning to her maid and pointing toward the hall.

“Te importaria?” he said.

The maid scurried from the room and closed the door behind her.

Will came to Hattie’s side and looked at her reflection in the mirror. There was no hiding the fact that she had been crying. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Don't tell me you sat up all night thinking of your heartbroken fiancé and decided that he wasn't such a bad chap after all. That perhaps you had misunderstood his intentions and you should have stayed on the boat. If that is the case, I would suggest it is a little late for tearful regrets,” he said.

Hattie's tears began to fall once more. Not only had she caused her parents' untold misery through her actions, but because of the lies she had already told Will, she could not share her troubles with him. She was now trapped in a thickening web of lies.

“I didn't leave a note to tell my parents I was leaving with Peter. We eloped. My parents must be sick with worry as to my whereabouts,” she explained.

It was as close to the truth as she dared to tell him. And in a way, it was the truth. Her parents did not know where she was and, they would be left with the obvious conclusion that the very worst had befallen their daughter.

“We shall be back in England within the fortnight. I am certain that your safe return will overcome any anger or possible recriminations. Besides, any letter you wrote and sent from here, would probably leave on the same boat as us so you are just going to have to bear up and be patient. I promise to speak to your father and explain things on your behalf,” Will replied.

Distressed though she was, Hattie noted the undercurrent within his words. Will was probing yet again. Seeking the truth in her story. Seeing if he could prise a little more of it from her lips. Though he did not know it, Will had given her the first hope for making amends with her parents. The first chance of redeeming herself in their eyes.

As soon as she was back in London, she would pen a letter to her parents in Freetown. She would explain it all. Her reluctance to marry Peter Brown. The certain knowledge that she was not cut out to be the wife of a missionary. And finally, the truth which had been the eventual catalyst for the drastic choice she had made.

That she was not prepared to abandon her friends in the filthy, rookery of St. Giles. Vulnerable friends who even now could be in deadly peril. It was because of them that she had finally found the courage to jump ship. She had found her calling with the weak and vulnerable of London, she owed it to them to go home. To continue her work.

She wiped away the tears, acknowledging that there was nothing she could do to ease her parents suffering until she got home. With time, perhaps they would understand and forgive her. Will was right, until then she would just have to make the best of things.

She reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket.

“Thank you” she said.

“Good.”

They silently stared at one another in the reflection of the mirror for a minute longer, before the soft voice of Hattie's maid came from outside in the hallway. Will looked toward the door.

“May I attend to the senorita, Senor? Your prometida may wish to finish dressing,” she said.

“Prometida?” Hattie whispered.

Will turned and gave her warm smile.

“It's Spanish for fiancée, which considering your current predicament is probably the best thing you can pretend to be until we arrive back in England,” he replied.

* * *

Will waited patiently downstairs in the main dining room of the hotel. The rooms of the Seawinds Hotel were too small to be able to partake of breakfast privately.

Prometida.

The word had slipped quickly off his tongue when Hattie's maid entered the room.

“Yes of course, my prometida would like to finish dressing. She had a terrible nightmare, but is recovered enough now. Aren't you my sweet?” he said.

When he placed a chaste kiss on Hattie’s cheek the maid giggled and blushed. The stunned look on Hattie's face had made his bold move worth it.

She had shared something of her real self this morning. He had no doubt that whoever and wherever her parents were, they were in great distress over their missing daughter. There was a deal of truth in her lie.

Her maid had in her mistake, handed him the perfect solution to their masquerade. By claiming her as his fiancée Will could pull her into his version of the story. If a false story was to be created around them, he would be the one framing the picture.

“Mr. Saunders?”

He looked up and saw a vision of loveliness which filled his heart with joy. While Hattie’s day gown was a simple pale cream, the jacket she wore over it was a magnificent deep crimson. She wore a matching crimson ribbon in her hair.

His heart lifted when he saw a smile come to her lips. The tears were gone and he saw hope shine in her face.

Rising quickly from the table, Will took hold of Hattie's hand and placed a kiss on it. As she tried to pull away, he gently rebuked her.

“It would not do to show any form of displeasure with me in public. Don’t think for a moment that the whole staff of the hotel are not currently discussing us and the little scene in your room earlier. I expect your maid could not get down those stairs fast enough to run and tell anyone who wished to listen that the English lady and gentleman must have had a disagreement, and that you had been crying.”

The small 'o' which appeared on Hattie's lips and the relaxation of her hand was encouraging. He leaned in close and murmured in her ear.

“And do not call me Mr. Saunders, we are supposed to be engaged. I am William. Will to all my friends and family. If you continue to address me in such a formal fashion, you will give the game away.”

Hattie nodded her head.

“Will,” she replied.

Over a breakfast of coffee and sweet buns, he did his best to form a more familiar bond with her. He chuckled at her puzzled face when she saw the paucity of their breakfast.

“They adhere to the Spanish way of things here for a lot of their customs. A small breakfast, followed by something a little more substantial later in the morning. The main meal of the day is partaken after midday,” he explained.

“That's odd,” she replied.

“Not really. People rise early here, get some work done and then after the midday meal they go and have a long sleep to avoid the afternoon heat. Notice how tired you were yesterday by the time you went to bed? The heat of the Spanish sun saps all the energy out of you,” he said.

As he sat and watched her, Will was once again reminded of his late wife. Hattie and Yvette shared some very similar mannerisms. The first time Hattie screwed up her face at the bitter coffee, Will came close to tears. Yvette had always liked to take the first sip of her morning coffee before declaring it undrinkable and heaping sugar into the cup.

He slid the small pot of sugar across the table, and with a flourish removed the lid.

“A large spoonful always takes the bitterness away,” he said. He hastily coughed, clearing the lump which had formed in his throat.

Hattie took several more bites of her sweet breakfast roll before sitting back in her chair. The coffee she left untouched.

“So, what now? Do I just keep to my room until the boat back to England sails?” she asked.

No matter what the truth was behind her lies, he found himself becoming fonder of her every minute. He liked that she was able to see the bigger picture of their situation. The leap from the side of the ship, was he suspected, a complete aberration of her normal behavior. That she was not by nature a risk taker. In that she and Yvette differed greatly.

“I was thinking about that while I was waiting for you. Are you someone who enjoys the outdoors or the countryside?” he replied.

She sat silent for a moment, before finally replying.

“I do like to get out and walk in the fresh air,” she said.

Anyone else would have added further details of their life. Of the parks they regularly visited or their favourite place to ramble, but not her. If she had been one of his young, still in training operatives, he would have applauded her effort. She had given him an answer, but only just enough.

Her body language however still gave her away as an amateur. A good spy should be able to utter the words and appear relaxed. Hattie had unconsciously stiffened her back.

“Good. Then I think we should agree to use the time we have remaining in Gibraltar to its best advantage. The boat leaves on the tide tomorrow night, so we have time today to venture across to the base of the Rock and to visit the cave of St Michael. I visited the cave earlier in the week and I must say it was well worth the effort. It would be remiss of me as your host not to show you the caves.

But first, I think we should make the trip up to see Europa Point. We can go later this morning. In the meantime, we can visit the local town shops and purchase any other items you might need for the sea voyage home,” he replied.