THE PLAN
No,” As soon as Enola heard the Colonel's plan, she glared. “Colonel Evenclear, it is impossible.”
“All this time, Enola, you have represented yourself as a princess, and you now tell me that you cannot assure a Native alliance.”
Her eyes flashed as she looked at the British soldiers, staring her down. She was not afraid; she did not think she was in danger. However, what they were suggesting was impossible.
“My people have chosen to stay out of this war. My tribe may be large, and others may have chosen to side with you, but that is a choice. We cannot...”
“We need the numbers,” Colonel Evenclear stared her down.
Enola felt so many words at the tip of her tongue, and none of them were polite. Luckily, Jacob saw the anger on her face, and cut her off.
“Enola will find a way, sir. She always does. Leave it to us; we will have their numbers.”
“Jacob!” Enola snapped, but he put a hand on her wrist, warning her. She gritted her teeth, but fell silent. The colonel glanced between the two of them, and then nodded.
“So it will be done. You gentlemen have no objection to this?”
“No sir,” Harold said. “I think it’s a brilliant plan. The easiest way to win a battle is simply to outnumber them.”
“I would like to talk to my strategist,” Aaron put in, and all heads turned toward him. Holde raised an eyebrow.
“Can you not make a decision yourself, Captain?”
Jacob's eyebrows went up in shock, and Enola glanced to the scruffy Army Captain. Everyone else was offended, but she saw something else in the words that came out a bit too harsh. His words spoke of someone who wanted a mate like that; someone who was alone and desperate for help on such important matters. He was jealous of the assistance that the Pirate Lord clearly had.
“Of course I can,” Aaron said evenly. “But he is brilliant at these things. He was---” He suddenly glanced at Harold, and changed his mind. “He is good at these things.”
“Of course,” Colonel Evenclear turned to Holde. “Major?”
“It is fine,” Holde said. “The more the merrier.”
“Excellent,” the Colonel said. “Then, my Lord. Gentlemen. My Lady. Dismissed.”
Enola noticed the pirate lord's eyes flicker at the title, but he said nothing. There was something curious about the way he looked up, as if he thought his own name was being called. Enola did not particularly want to talk to Jacob after that exchange, and she fled from the tent as soon as she could, walking with purpose down to the river.
Of course he thought she could do it; of course he thought that she could bring the Natives together. He did not know just how bad the situation was; that she’d walked away from them. He was a forgiving sort; he thought that all would be well.
In addition, maybe, if she had been born low, that might be the case. However, she was the daughter of the chief, as high ranking as any princess from the world Jacob had come from.
This was not going to work and she knew it. They would not just be able to walk in and get the entire tribe on their side.
Enola crouched down by the stream, dipping her hand into the cool water to center herself. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise around her.
Sometimes, she felt like she belonged here. Other times, she was convinced that she was completely lost.
Footsteps alerted her, and she turned.
“Jacob, I---” The fire was there in her voice as she rose. However, when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that it was not Jacob at all, but Major Holde. “Sir.”
“I wanted to apologize,” he said, surprising her. “For the way they treated you in there. That was no way to speak to a lady and I should have spoken up.”
“Oh,” she said, trying to swallow her words. “It is fine. Really.”
“It is not,” he said. “I have been in the brothels of London and I have been to court to see the King and I have never heard any class of people speak to a lady that way.”
“Things are different in the colonies,” she replied, drawing her cloak closer around her. “We are more equal, we work...harder. Not harder, that is not the right word, but...”
“I think I understand what you mean,” he replied. “My wife, she worked within the military, alongside the men, and would be horrified if I suggested otherwise.”
“Your wife?” she said, surprised. He was married, and she did not know why the fact hit her like a punch in the stomach. What did it matter if he was married? Most of the officers were, the women taking solace in their high salaries and the freedom that their absence gave them. “What did she do?”
“She---” Holde cut himself off, shaking his head. “It does not matter.”
Enola knew at once that it was his wife who had died. Moreover, from the way he was reacting, it was clearly something tragic; unexpected. Her heart broke for him. She knew loss, she knew grief, had seen it many times. Even though she was at peace with the bodies returning to nature, it did not make the gaping hole of being alone any easier.
“My mother died unexpectedly,” she said quietly. “She was killed by an American skirmish. We were only trying to help.”
“The Americans will do that,” he replied. “Kill without thought; civilians, it does not matter to them. The British do not do that.”
“I would not say that,” Enola answered. “But my anger is with the Americans on most days. That is why I chose to help Jacob.”
Holde smiled softly. “And has the lad not offered to marry you yet?”
Enola almost threw up at the suggestion. “Jacob? No. No,” she shuddered. “No.”
Holde laughed at that, a twinkle in his eyes. It was the first time she had really seen him smile. “I see.”
“Jacob is a brother to me,” Enola said. “We would never...He would never....”
“I see that the thought disturbs you,” he chuckled, holding up his hand. “I am sorry I brought it up.”
“As long as you promise to never bring it up again,” she said.
“Ah, that felt good,” he said, shaking his head. “I have not laughed in quite some time. Thank you.”
“War does not make much to laugh at,” she answered as she wiped her wet hands on her skirt. “I should not be here, anyways. I can rarely get away for a moment or two without someone needing my help. The river is quite peaceful, if you wanted a moment to yourself. It is my favorite spot.”
“Then I shall take you up on it,” he replied, dipping his head. “Thank you.”
“A pleasure,” she said, as she headed off. However, the way he smiled stuck in her mind's eye as she walked back to the camp, and she felt the tension in her chest lift just a little.
In the large white tent of the captain, Wesley was studying the plans laid out by the colonel with intensity. Aaron was perched on the edge of the desk, although Harold would have really preferred if he was sitting in a chair. As soon as Wesley gave his approval, to plan was to go see Annabelle and James, who had probably heard exactly who was in the camp by now.
“The fatal flaw,” Wesley said, his days of the fastest-rising mind in the British Navy not lost on him.
“Is here. The battle plans that he has for the attack assume that we have the Native forces with us. If we subtract their numbers, the entire plan has to change. And I do not see a backup plan.”
“Because we would not have the numbers to attack the American forces otherwise,” Harold said. “Not as we are, not even with your help.”
“Are not you two Lords?” Aaron said. “You have armies at your disposal.”
Harold rolled his eyes, giving Aaron a look. “And you know as well as I do, Former Lord Bamber, that those armies are across an ocean and difficult to raise. Your tenants in particular....”
“They always liked me,” Aaron said, and it came out harsher than he meant it to. “Sorry.”
“No,” Harold said. “They should. They mourn you still.”
“Ah well,” Aaron replied and Wesley cleared his throat.
“The situation is the same with me. My tenants in the county will be unlikely to respond quickly to a cry for help. I have been out of touch with them for quite awhile.”
“If you write Lola...” Aaron started and Wesley snapped.
“I am not writing Lola. God knows where she even is.”
“She is on tour,” Harold said, softly and evenly. “She was negotiating a new contract just as we were leaving. She was hoping that...”
“As long as the Countess Rippon continues to disgrace the name on stage, I shall have no further conversation about her,” Wesley put down the plans, practically hurling them into Aaron's hands. “That is my take on it, gentlemen.”
With that, he spun and exited the room. Harold turned to Aaron in shock. “What the…”
“Do not ask me, you were just with Lola,” Aaron replied. “What did she say happened?”
“Please can we go see Annabelle?” Harold said, instead of answering. “This is more theatrics than a production of Romeo and Juliet.”
“At least we can agree on that,” Aaron rose. “Do you want to tell Colonel Evenclear these will not work? He will take it better from a British Lord than a pirate.”
“I do not see what we are going to tell him,” Harold said. “Especially if we do not have a better solution. I cannot just hand him the plans and shake my head. Wesley could have stayed long enough to answer a solution.”
“I am sure he has one,” Aaron answered. “Could you just give him a moment to calm down? Imagine if your marriage was breaking down and you were a thousand miles away and helpless.”
“I would go back,” Harold answered. “I would not do that to Annabelle. Never.”
“Well,” Aaron replied. “Sometimes we do not have a choice in the path we choose.”
“Aaron...” Harold had not meant to bring up the tension again, but it hung thick in the air, like a rain cloud. Aaron shook his head, a fake smile on his face.
“Come, let's see my sister,” he said. “Or, to the world, the Lady Annabelle, your wife.”
Harold did not know what to say as they walked. It was so odd. They used to be in step; in sync. When they fought battles together; they knew each other’s movements, thoughts, without a word. Now, it was like they were strangers, trying to find common ground.
He had not asked Aaron to give up his life. He would have gone to the noose after the jury found that the captain had been pushed on their last ship if that was what it took. However, Aaron was supposed to be dying, he was supposed to breathe his last and save his friends. Instead, the elaborate hoax that he and Lola had concocted had fooled everyone until it was too late to change their minds. However, if they had had a crystal ball and could see the future; Harold wondered if they would have done things the same.
Was Aaron happier in this life; in this freedom he claimed to want; free from a throne; a crown; from rules and regulations? Or was a slow death without his identity much worse than a fast one?