At Bamber Manor, Aaron had recovered enough to settle on the couch, Gwendolyn at his side. His daughter was well aware that her father was not healthy, and she took it in stride. So far, she showed no sign of inheriting her father's illness, which made Aaron so grateful to the Lord above. Harold was sitting opposite from him, his voice low and even as he spoke. Gwendolyn was young; she didn't understand the gravity of what Harold was saying.
“We will be out numbered in a matter of days. Our plans are running circular, and our top strategists are confused, to say the least.”
“So you need Wesley,” Aaron said.
“I need more than Wesley,” Harold said. “I need the charisma of the most trusted officer in the Navy. Even Captain Willcock, the man completely out of his mind and downright cruel, loved you. If I could have you and Wesley back, my God, the strides we could make in this war.”
“You know what that entails, though,” Aaron said. “You know it's impossible. Wesley, perhaps, although I do not think that he is eager to return to that life. But I can't come back, not unless the rest of you want to swing from the noose.”
“I'm aware of that reality every single day,” Harold said. “You know how grateful I am...”
“Father, why don't you mobilize the pirates?” Gwendolyn asked, suddenly. Both of the men turned to her.
“Gwendolyn, the pirates aren't like the Navy. I can't send a message and just...”
“Of course not,” she answered “But if they loved you there, why wouldn't they love you as a leader here? You're a good pirate, Mommy says.”
“She does?” Aaron responded in surprise “Well, that's nice to know. Maybe Mommy can help me, hmm?”
Gwendolyn giggled.
“Maybe.”
He leaned over to tickle her as if she were six again, which produced a louder giggle. Harold smiled, glad that his best friend was able to have these moments.
The door bell rang then, and Harold looked up.
“I wonder who that could be,” he said, looking at the clock. “I'm expecting no one.”
They heard the butler open the door, and heard a voice asking for the Lady of the manor.
“I need to go upstairs and now,” Aaron said, realizing that someone was going to be directed into the room they were sitting in.
“There's no time,” Harold said, grabbing him by the elbow to pull him up. “Quick, behind the book shelf.”
“It's like you're ashamed of me,” Aaron joked, but knew that there was a secret passage behind there. “Be good, Gwendolyn.”
“My father is dead and I am the saddest child,” she answered, deadpanned. Aaron winked at her before slipping behind the book shelf.
Only once he was behind the book shelf did his smile fade. This was his life now, hiding in the spot he used to play as a child. He pressed his ear against the loose book, listening to the stranger entering the living room.
“Can I assist you, sir?” Harold rose.
“Ah, you must be the Lord Bamber,” said a voice. “The one who took over the title.”
“Since my brother-in-law's death, yes,” Harold answered. “And you are?”
“I am Gilles Owens,” he said “Your wife's forth cousin. And the rightful heir to this place.”
“Excuse me?” Harold struggled for words. “What do you mean by that, sir?”
“I mean, sir that you are a usurper,” he answered. “And I expect you to vacate this house.”
“My wife is the rightful heir to the Bamber estate,” Harold answered. “As our children are. I have a son who will inherit.”
“Your wife, as I'm sure you are aware, is a woman. A woman cannot inherit.”
“Why have you come here?” Harold asked. “Because I assure you that throwing facts in my face that you claim as true are not going to get us to pack our bags. And we should not be having this discussion in front of children.”
“Is this your daughter?” Gilles asked, turning around to look at Gwendolyn. “My goodness, you look like your mother.”
“My father is Lord Aaron Bamber,” Gwendolyn raised her chin. “And he was the greatest father there ever was. If he was here, he would be taking care of me and nasty men like you.”
“Gwendolyn!” Harold said in surprise. Aaron only raised an eyebrow. She was certainly like her mother indeed, although it wasn't who Gilles assumed.
He had vaguely heard the name Gilles Owens before. The man lived in South Africa, in one of the colonies. He ran a sign shop, and he was such a distant cousin that no one was quite sure of his relations.
He couldn't possibly be claiming to be the heir over Annabelle, could he?
Yet here he was, marching in as if he owned the place.
“Oh, that's right,” Gilles answered, with a sneer. “The child of the former lord and his peasant mistress.”
“Sir, you will not speak that way in my home,” Harold said. “I will have to ask you to leave.”
“In my home, may I point out,” Gilles said, even as the butler approached with two footmen.
“Leave!” Harold answered. “Now.”
There was a bit of a scuffle, and then Aaron heard the door slam. He waited a few moments more, until Harold knocked on the book shelf.
“You are safe,” he said. “Come on out.”
“Are you alright, Gwendolyn?” he said, immediately, sweeping out from the book shelf and reaching to hug her. Gwendolyn raised her chin high.
“Of course, Father,” she said, in such a way that made him smile. She was so strong and so easy going. Nothing seemed to bother her, and he was glad of it. Still, he was disturbed by the encounter, and turned to Harold.
“Has that happened before?”
“No,” Harold answered, clearly equally disturbed. “Do you know him?”
“I've never met the man before in my life,” Aaron answered. “I've heard his name, distantly...but he's so vaguely related, that I can't believe that he would make his way here. I'm not sure he's set foot on British soil in nearly 30 years....”
“And his relation?”
“So severed,” Aaron answered. “He's not the direct heir. Yes, we need a male to inherit, but only to a certain degree. Annabelle being my twin, my father's daughter, is acceptable.”
“Why couldn't I inherit, then?” Gwendolyn asked, even though she knew the answer. Aaron gave her another hug.
“Because I made a mistake of not being married to your mother,” he said. “And I'm sorry for that. But you know that Uncle Harold will always take care of you.”
“I know,” she said. “But if I can't inherit, than that man can't just walk in here and say those things.”
“No, he can't,” Aaron said. “And you know that. So don't worry about it.”
“Mm,” she said, giving him one last hug. “I'm going to go find Mother, alright?”
“Alright,” he said, and she scampered off. Aaron turned to Harold then, his jaw set. “Well, that was frightening. I'll speak to Annabelle, see what she can trace. I'm sure he's just someone looking for a hand out through diluted blood lines. It happens every once in awhile. Part of the perks of being a Lord.”
“I'll alert the butler not to let anyone like him back in,” Harold said. “Now, if he could solve our crisis at the Navy, I would consider letting him be a Lord part time.”
Aaron snorted at that.
“You seemed to have gained a sense of humor while I've been away. I appreciate that.”
Harold rolled his eyes.
“Sit down. You shouldn't have had that much excitement after the morning you've had.”
“There's the old Harold I know,” Aaron answered, as he settled on the couch. “Are you really worried?”
“About you?” Harold answered. “You'll be alright.”
“Not about me,” Aaron replied. “About being outnumbered by the Spanish. We're the British Navy, Harold, there's not a force on earth that can reckon with us. It will be alright.”
“It won't be,” Harold admitted. “The war is slipping through our fingers. If we keep losing battles at the rate we are doing so, we will be in French occupation within the year.”
“That's pessimistic,” Aaron said, although he could hear the seriousness in his friend's voice. “I don't know what to tell you, Harold.”
“I'm not trying to put the whole war on your shoulders, on Wesley's shoulders. And I'm certainly not trying to tell you to sacrifice your life. You have already made the ultimate sacrifice for your country. I'll figure it out.”
“Thank you,” Aaron said, and he cocked his head.
“Thank you for what?”
“Through all this, for taking care of Shauna and Gwendolyn. She wasn't bothered by that vile man, and I don't get the feeling that she is bothered or afraid of anything. You have made her feel safe, no matter which house she is living in...and no matter that I'm here or not. I have no fear, when I'm at sea, whether they are alright, because of you.”
“They would be better with you, though.”
“I know,” Aaron said. “But we can no longer discuss it like it's an option. We both have children; we both have lives beyond ourselves now.”
“Hello?” came a voice at the door and Aaron jumped. He looked up, ready to run, and then relaxed.
“Morgan! Good Lord, you frightened me.”
“You said the door was opened whenever I wanted?” Morgan answered, swaggering in with a grin on his face. “I want.”
“Well come in, have a seat,” Aaron grinned. “Harold, may I introduce you to Morgan Ouiseau, the best pirate I've ever met. Joined my crew about a year ago.”
Harold looked the man up and down, dressed in half rags, with a gold tooth and dreadlocks. He certainty looked like a typical pirate.
“Nice to uh...meet you,” he said, as Morgan helped himself to a drink. “Aaron, not to judge your Captaincy skills...but does your whole crew know of your identity?”
Aaron smiled as Morgan settled down beside him.
“Don't worry, Harold. The pirates have their own code. They've all got reasons for going underground as well, so they aren't going to tell anyone. It's more a code than the Navy some days, no obligation to report.”
“We're a trustworthy bunch,” Morgan grinned, as he threw his feet up on the coffee table. “Promise. You must be the new Lord.”
“I uh... yes,” Harold said. “Can I help you?”
“Ah, Captain here said we could drop by whenever we wanted,” he said. “So, here I am. Nice place.”
“Thank you?” Harold answered, unsure of what to do. He certainly didn't want to consider speaking about classified Navy plans, no matter how much Aaron swore that his pirates were trustworthy. “Will you be staying long?”
“I told them they could stay as long as they wanted while we were docked,” Aaron said, giving Harold a look. Harold didn't dare challenge him, no matter who officially had the title at the moment.
“Right, I'll just uh...go inform the chef we have an extra for supper then,” Harold replied, leaving the room. Morgan grinned, watching him go.
“Your brother-in-law is a bit uptight,” he said, and Aaron nudged him.
“He's just in a tough position at the moment,” he said. “He'll be alright. He'll figure things out, he always does.”
“You look like a ghost, Capt,” Morgan said, and Aaron cocked an eyebrow at him.
“That bad, hmm?”
“You alright?”
“I am,” Aaron said. “I'm just glad to be at home.”
“So I take it we're not sailing again for awhile.”
“No,” Aaron replied, thinking of Gilles and what Harold had told him. “Not for a long while. I understand if you may want to find other work...
“Don't be silly,” Morgan drowned his drink. “You're my Captain. Until the end.”
“Until the end,” Aaron said, wondering just how long that might be.