Once the Colomba had made French port and settled all affairs allowing the landing party to set boot to pier Biatta, still very drunkenly and sickly spoke with Captain Beppin. It was privately done in the Captain’s own cabin that had been given the couple for the voyage. She only had the satchel that Sasha had helped her pack, with nothing much in it but half of their funds, a weapon, make up and items of attire that could not be easily obtained in short notice.

“Captain Pasqualigo I thank you so much for your kind help at keeping me from polishing your deck with my personal froth the entire trip. And I want to settle our accounts before we depart your vessel.

I am so grateful you were able to bring us here and if I have calculated the travel distances correct we are on a tight schedule. If anything should delay or waylay us I don’t see how we could make it back to the ship in time, and I will not have you wait and potentially fall victim to any revolutionary mischief on our behalf.

As we agreed this is the entire sum for both passages, to and from for the Colonel and I. I want to pay you now for the return passage in case we also run out of funds or are stricken of them somehow. If we make it back no harm, if we don’t you’ve made a handsome profit or you can reimburse me any remaining funds when you return to Venice.

And please remember that It was Pietre Stoiyankov that sailed with your crew from Venezia.“

Biatta smiled softly at Beppin, she was not very steady as yet and still much too inhibited from the liquors she consumed to keep her from feeling washy. And when she handed him the small pouch of coin she held his hands a bit longer then needed and offered a silly smile. She liked Beppin and hoped they would return quickly to set sail from France with his crew.

“Sir I do think you will need to invest in much more of your Sambucca for the return trip.”

And she let go his hands laughing at herself and her current state. Poor Sasha. She’d have to make it up to him somehow. For he had done his best to soothe her, spoon fed her when she could eat and distract her when she couldn’t. And it was painfully obvious that she’d never be a sailor. Or at least not one on a smaller vessel.

While she was settling affairs with the Captain Sasha had taken it upon himself to find passage across land for them. He knew where they were headed and the time frame if they were to return home on the same vessel. Biatta trusted him to do what was needed for them both, she trusted him with her life. The thought squeezed her chest tight and brought a silly smile again to her lips. He’d not leave her sitting in a convent if he were living. And that thought had her tearing up, ‘God damn what the hell is wrong with you Elizabeth?’

She had both their satchels and was saying her fare wells to the crew that were so kind to her and kept the Colonel busy when nothing more could be done to calm her. Then she had to defeat the gang plank again to make it to the pier. One of the boys took the bags and tossed them over to a crew mate below on the pier. And Biatta balled her fists and descended that flimsy, bouncing set of boards to the dock.

The cabin boy shouted down to her, “Aye miss you are getting your sea legs yet, you handled that plank better this time then the three others!”

Biatta laughed and turned spinning a bit too much. “No Lad you’re Captain just kept me drunk!”

They waved at one another and she was laughing a bit too freely. Tears one second and laughing the next. And her body was loose and her gut utterly devoid of anything. She was so happy to be foot to ground and she did not have any of that land sickness, or so she desperately hoped. Then the thought on the carriage motion made her slump. The spirits surely hate me. Three days one way, three days back. One day to root out the information. ‘How do military men do this?’

And speaking of such there he was walking the dock back towards her. His fitted leather making him stand out among the sea farers. Biatta could watch him walk towards her any time. It just made her heart sing to see him. Maybe she was still too much intoxicated but she felt like dashing to him and wrapping him up in her arms. Arms that were now holding their satchels. And she did just that, sans the wrapping him up in her arms part, and he could see as she moved to meet him that she was beaming and still very inebriated.

“I want more.”

And she proffered him that smile, which told him exactly how nefarious her thoughts were. She was on land, land! And look at him, just look. And look she did.

The trip had been uneventful as concerns the weather. No storms to trouble it, and good wind making for up to twelve knots sometimes.

Margareta’s health was slowly improving. She still had to lay in bed, as immobile as possible, for the bones to stick together properly and mend, but the fever hadn’t been as high after the first day at sea. Fernand wasn’t next to her only when on watch or when he slept. And when on watch, there was Jean-Pierre, most of the time, to spend his time with her, or Rino, or Fantin, who were her childhood acquaintances.

When the two passengers called him into the cabin, Beppin came immediately. Lady Stanley, who had been seasick almost all the time, unlike her companion, wanted to bid good bye in a specific way – namely, by settling the accounts and telling him that they might not make it in time.

”I wish you succeed to make it back to the ship in time. I can wait for you until the 2-nd of April at first light. I also wish you good luck in your endeavours. If you can’t make it, though, be sure I’ll reimburse you when you return to Venice. I like profits like any other man does, but not undeserved ones.”

He might be a smuggler, taking profit from wherever he could, but he was not dishonest. At her reminder about the man’s name, he laughed:

”Nobody can forget this. His name is written in the ship records, and he had been called so by everybody aboard.”

Her hands were slightly trembling. Beppin held them as if they were precious porcelain statues. As she said she needed more Sambucca for the return trip, his laughter was heard again.

”Here we are in Provence. It’s anisette, a slightly different variety. Be sure I’ll take supplies.”

The good bye moment came, and the whole crew bid her good bye, not only Beppin. All of them felt pity for her during the voyage. Jean-Pierre’s tongue suddenly became too loose, shouting ironies to her. Beppin caught his nape in a tight grip, scolding him loudly enough so that the two passengers could hear:

”Jean-Pierre! One shouldn’t talk like this to a lady! No shore leave for you. Some Astronomy lessons to pass your time usefully and learn what you should say and you shouldn’t!”

She admitted that she was drunk – the only way to stop the seasickness. But she was a lady to be respected, and the little one was going to learn it the hard way.

<a href='index.php?showuser=14' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-6'>@William</a> <a href='index.php?showuser=63' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-4'>@Crymson</a>

Finally, back on terrafirma... back to where he preferred... for him, it had not been a bad trip, just a long one... But he felt better than poor Biatta... and luckily, the captain was able to get her stomach settled enough with the drink he called Sambucca.

While she settled debts, he was tasked to find transportation... rapid transportation... for they had no time to spare. After asking several people where the livery was, he found the stables willing to sell the horses he required. Instead of two, one for him and her, he bought six. After relentless haggling, he was able to get the six at a cost that 4 would be... plus his ornate Russian pistol.

Then he stopped by the mercaantile shop... buying food stuffs, and supplies they did not have. Again he haggled the prices... what the hell you expect out of a Russian with solid gold and silver coins in his pockets.

Pleased he walked back with two lines of horses behind him; two saddled and 4 spares... one tied behind the other. And as he was nearing her, he saw her smiling at him... and he smirked and held up the reigns.

She moved to meet him that she was beaming and still very inebriated. “I want more.”

Sasha smirked and then chuckled... “I bet... and so do I... but we got no time... and I have a plan... but that dress will not do.” He saw she was a bit drunk and surely she would empty her stomach again... if not now, then later. He at least wanted to get out of the port city... then they could settle down for the evening.

Sasha was holding up reigns and smiling at her. Thank thee lord no carriage. She saw the many steeds and wondered briefly how they could keep the extra mounts fresh on the way over. Then realized they were for the return trip, leaving them at places along the proposed route. At least that is what she was thinking they were for. Because running them behind their saddled mounts would not work.

“I bet... and so do I... but we got no time... and I have a plan... but that dress will not do.”

She gave him a nonplused piercing glance. He was the one who threw all her clothe out of the satchel. She had breeches packed! He was the one who said he could acquire what they did need muttered under breathe about her dresses. She nearly growled at him.

“I will have you know I sit a fine gentlemen’s saddle in a dress Col… Sir.”

Remembering that he wished to use his assume name and that his rank was nothing to bloat about presently. She handed him his satchel and took the reign of one train of horses and she let him lead her and their mounts from the docks.

“And did you acquire the desired attire or do I need to scrounge for something? Since you so deftly tossed all my extra clothing aside. And if I recall you were so positive you could obtain any such need. Did you find a maid with the right waist and … what was it arm movements to fulfill the needed? “

She was not looking at him but he could tell by the tone of her voice, she was trying to control her amusement and laughter. Her cheek if he looked at her was pulled tight and round with the effort to suppress her smile as she teased him. And he deserved it in her mind, one of the things tossed aside and now he comes and tells her she needs to change. Damnable Russian.

She noted the saddle packs and extra store on the tethered spares. He had been busy and obviously had well thought plans. It made her appreciate him that much more. And wondered what he had come up with for them. She had to stop a moment. And the horse nearly pushed into her. Her body was so tired from the wrenching and the drink was slowly fading. Her stomach felt wishy washy and she took a deep breath.

“I need to sleep soon I think. Or puke. I don’t know which.”

Oh, she could be a royal pain-in-the-ass sometimes... but he loved her greatly and surely would just be truthful and upfront with her at all times... no secrets, no lies, no restraint... and her piercing glance seemed to spark a sense of non-appreciation for his efforts in his thrifty spending... but noooo, the effects of the alcohol still not having left her brain, she was being a...well you know.

“I will have you know I sit a fine gentlemen’s saddle in a dress Col… Sir..... And did you acquire the desired attire or do I need to scrounge for something? Since you so deftly tossed all my extra clothing aside. And if I recall you were so positive you could obtain any such need. Did you find a maid with the right waist and … what was it arm movements to fulfill the needed? “

Amusement and laughter was not the sentiment he would presume... he just felt unappreciated at that instant. <span style='color:darkblue'>“Shut up... and lose the attitude...”</span> and he threw a pair of breeches at her; <span style='color:darkblue'>“I stole those for you... Wear them or have your *pieshka* too sore to use later... and if that does not satisfy you, I can always cut your hair and tie down your tits to make you look like a boy...”</span> and he shook his head. And he bought them instead of stealing them... no sense drawing unwarranted attention. Damnable Englishwoman.

It may have been a bit of misunderstanding one another... or even a bit of body language and miscommunication... maybe even he had not taken into account her physical state at that very moment... and she had not taken into account that he felt good about getting 6 for the price of 4...

“I need to sleep soon I think. Or puke. I don’t know which.”

He stopped and pointed to a corner of a building. <span style='color:darkblue'>“Go stick your finger down yer throat, get it over with... that shit just sitting on your stomach...”</span> His tone a bit frustrated... Maybe it would have been better to go overland than to go by ship... he mused. <span style='color:darkblue'> “We need to get out of the city... then we can sleep... but time is of essence...”</span>

Now he was coming down; back to near normal... and his green eyes were a softer glint... and not so narrow. Should he apologize, or just suck it up to ill-health and frustration. And he was frustrated for her... not by her... as he was well-aware of the time constraints. And he looked at her... <span style='color:darkblue'>“Want me to go with you and be there when your vomit?”</span>


<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>
<a href='index.php?showuser=26' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Beppin Pasqualigo</a>

“Shut up... and lose the attitude...” and he threw a pair of breeches at her; “I stole those for you... Wear them or have your *pieshka* too sore to use later... and if that does not satisfy you, I can always cut your hair and tie down your tits to make you look like a boy...”

She barely caught the attire as it was thrown at her; she shocked at his tone and words. She blinked slowly and her mouth was set in a ‘o’ of shock. Had he learned some terrible news when he was purchasing the stores and steeds? He rarely snapped at her for no reason and he only used such strong timbre when he was irked or tired of her teasing. She shut her mouth, her face flushed and she was eerily silent.

They walked in that silence as she thought on all he had done, the steeds, the saddle and the stores. She was so grateful for his thoughtfulness and abilities. It would never have occurred to her that he was thinking she ungrateful or unappreciative of him or his efforts. The only thing she could fathom was while he was gathering the items he heard disparaging information about the area. He was hurried to leave the port. Then she felt very sick and stopped.

“Go stick your finger down yer throat, get it over with... that shit just sitting on your stomach...” His tone a bit frustrated... Maybe it would have been better to go overland than to go by ship... he mused. “We need to get out of the city... then we can sleep... but time is of essence...”

He could literally see her feathers ruffle when he told her to go make herself vomit. And the set of her eyes was no longer teasing or amused in any form. But she said nothing. Just nodded an affirmation, dropped the reigns to her train of animals and not even offering them to him, straightened her back and disappeared about a corner. She did not even hear is offer or see his eyes soften. She didn’t give him the chance to tell her exactly how she should puke to be certain she got it all cleared up.

And as she disappeared about the corner she was leaking tears out the corner of her eyes. She was a mess, her emotions all over and warring from one side unto another in seconds. Scared to death of not making it in time in or out of the country, scared that the baby was too far out of her reach, scared Greyson might have learned of it and already acquired their infant, scared that she had to face those holy bitches and sick as sin from the stupid ship and drinking too much to keep her from puking all over everyone. Now the news he had heard that was pressing him to get them out of the city was making him bark at her.

When all she wanted was for him to hold her, to tell her in his same earnest way that everything would be all right and that no matter what everything would be all right. But no, her dress would not do, her ability to ride even in a dress would not do, her being sick would not do and evidently her looking like a woman--- would not do. And her fingers found her throat through her mouth and she spewed the last liquor she drank and the froth that sailing had stirred and she hoped she spewed all the things that would not do out with it. And cried alone while she cleaned herself up and slipped the breeches under her skirts.

She could not rightly remove the dress in the open and did not even attempt to. So when she returned her face red , her eyes red both from puking and crying and she had no breeches in hand. She picked up the dropped reigns and did not look at him or speak, she was afraid of what exactly might fly from her mouth, curses or crying and neither of them would do any good for either of them. No, only mounting her saddled horse and getting out of the port city would do either of them any good.

And when it came time for them to mount she did not wait for him to even hint at offering her any help. She tied her satchel to the saddle and took her seat, settling her skirts and waiting only for his lead. He’d tell her what was bothering him when he was damn well ready to tell her. And she’d stew in quiet until she knew exactly what was causing his animosity or she could say anything constructive. She had her own fears to contend with and she knew he was very capable of offering protection through proper planning and that he’d not purposely allow anything to happen to either of them.

He knew he had made a mistake... he had turned the moment when she needed him, into a moment he needed kind words from her... and he knew he had fucked up... but if he was to right wrongs... he would not do it now, for she would explode like lit gunpowder... So he would bide his time, watch her expressions and see if they’d soften... meanwhile, he’d need to find that penitent aura and wear it heartily.

And her return with red face and even redder eyes seemed to be his doom... and his gut wrenched with anxiety... he wanted her to feel better... to be excited about the trip... He did not understand the anxiety that was pent up from her past...and now it had much ado with her present. His father always told him, ‘You cannot undo, what has been done... only ensure that it does not occur again... for a truly penitent man will fail only once with like discrepancies.’ That was always said in front of mother, but father to son... “Do not fuck up twice with the same deed or word.”

He spurred his horse... and they would leave by the eastern gate of the city... for their destination was east by north. Maybe it had been the scowls upon their faces, or something entirely different, but people got out of the way of 6 horses... nor said anything derogatory to, about, or at them...

And as they passed thru the eastern gate, he swiveled in the saddle and looked at her only briefly, to apologize. “I fucked up... I was cold-hearted... my manners were atrocious, and I was thinking only of myself, when I should have been thinking about, and consoling you... Prosti menya... Ya t'bya lub lu”



<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>
<a href='index.php?showuser=26' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Beppin Pasqualigo</a>

They worked through the city in silence and people parted to get out of their way without incident. She had no idea which way they were headed and was thinking too hard about what had transpired and what could possibly have upset him so greatly. She still honestly believed he had gotten some sour information about their task and it had made her teasing piss him off. Because she had been only teasing him and evidently her words had not sit right.

They mounted at his prompting and left the city behind through the east gate. And he turned speaking at her. He was offering an apology and she was still thinking too hard. She nodded letting him know she had heard his words offering no smile or other. She was still running the event over in her mind. And she noted that he was missing his ornate pistol. The weapons she had taken serious note of when he came to her estate dressed thusly. What had he done?

She knew he would not give up a weapon for no good cause and she also knew he was separating himself from his mother land when he was not supposed to be anywhere outside of Venice. But it was a grand piece of metal smith and a good weapon was not too easily tossed away. She didn't know what was happening exactly but he was offering an apology for his barking. It was a start and hers was to stay silent and not cause more confusion.

Once they were set in a gait and path she bit her horse&#8217;s sides to match his pace. The city had fallen away and foot traffic had ceased on the road so she moved her mount and its two shadows besides his. It had taken her a long time to come to some conclusion that made any sense and that she could address. She looked side long at him and spoke clearly loud enough for him to hear her over the hoof beat and other sounds of their entourage.

If you have had bad word about our planned route you could have just told me outright, you did not have to bark at me. I was teasing you because right away you tell me that I need different clothing and made me pack none. I am sorry if it was poor timing to tease you. You did so much, the horses, the stores the good saddles I was so happy to see them then sit in a carriage.

Her words held no emotion only the statements. It was the only thing she could think. That it was about traveling and trouble on the road. They teased each other enough times and in worse ways. But he had given up that pistol.

What did you do with your pistol Alexander?

The only thing keeping her from being sick was that she knew how to counter the movement of her mount. She could anticipate what she needed to do by watching the track they ran over. It was a second motion for her to be riding and it was soothing to her. She would never likely be as good as a trained cavalry officer, but, she could sit well and stay thus in most common situations. She was still unhappy about them being at odds with one another and uncertain as to the root cause. But she knew one thing and she hadn&#8217;t offered it when he had. She would never parrot her affection just because someone said them to her.

I love you too Alexander. Forgive me using jest to soothe my own nerves at your behest. I do apologize and I meant no disrespect.

“If you have had bad word about our planned route you could have just told me outright, you did not have to bark at me. I was teasing you because right away you tell me that I need different clothing and made me pack none. I am sorry if it was poor timing to tease you. You did so much, the horses, the stores the good saddles I was so happy to see them then sit in a carriage.”

He had not said much to her, except the heartfelt apology... and he allowed her silence in her own space... thus, as the city and its amenities and challenges were behind them, she saddled up next to him and spoke. And he twisted his neck to look at her. His jaw moving but not his lips... but his green eyes spoke volumes as to the anxiety of the situation. <span style='color:darkblue'>“We shall take a break at the next bend and switch mounts.”</span> They had over 110 kilometers (72+ miles) to go yet, his information would be revealing, for sure.

Spurring his mount to a trot, to get the last use out of it and to allow more time at their scheduled stop. Outside Marseilles, he stopped in a small clearing, with a full view of the city behind him. He began to unsaddle his mount as she rode up. Then he saddled his second mount, the first added to the end of the string. Then helping her down, he stood there face to face, first time since the ship... his green eyes were searching her face for an acceptance of his apology.

<span style='color:darkblue'>“It was not bad... just a missed opportunity...”</span> and he grit his teeth. <span style='color:darkblue'>“There was a man who owns a balloon... and makes a weekly run from Marseilles... to Geneva, with stops in Avignon... Valence... Lyon... and a return trip from Geneva to Marseilles...”</span> and he looked down, then guided her out of his way. Then he started unsaddling her mount and resaddling her second. And as he looked at her and hands her a map. <span style='color:darkblue'>“Look at that...” </span>On it, calculations marked on the map... the shortest route was Marseilles... north to Vitrolles, a distance of 25 km (15.5 mi), then northeast to Cavaillon, a distance marked at 55 km (34.2 mi), then her following dots onward west by north along the southern bank of Durance River to Rogonas, yet another distance of 25 km (15.5 mi); and at a Rogonas, he marked where they would cross the River, then northward a mere 10 Km (6.2. mi) to Avignon. Off to the margins, he did totals... 115 km (71.4 mi). Below the total figures was a note for *ambling gaits* at 6–12 kmph = 64 – 128 km in a 10 hour day (4-8 mph, totaling 40-80 mi in a 10-hour day)

<span style='color:darkblue'>“We can do it in one day... and if needed, one day back.”</span> If needed? He would cause her to be a bit confused. “The balloon will not come back to Marseilles for 3 days...” and he forced a smirk. <span style='color:darkblue'>“My plan is risky... we ride hard there... stopping only to resaddle... and we burn thru the horses and they can rest as we ride... It is hard or rider and mount, but it CAN be done. We can be there today, before dusk... do what we need to do at the convent... sell the horses, and catch the balloon back on the third day... and if we miss the ship... we reroute the balloon to England.”</span>

“What did you do with you pistol, Alexander?”

He looked down, and when he tried to avert attention to the saddle, she had placed her hand on his arm. <span style='color:darkblue'>“I used it to buy our way on the balloon... My coin went to the horses... and when the liveryman mentioned the balloon, I told him we would expect to get passage in Avignon...”</span>

“I love you too Alexander. Forgive me using jest to soothe my own nerves at your behest. I do apologize and I meant no disrespect.”

<span style='color:darkblue'>“My dearest Biatta... I beg thy forgiveness... I had no right to use such mannerism with you... you did not deserve it... but I was elated to do trade... to save us money, and time.”</span> And when she spoke, he smiled, turned to her and in an embrace, reveled in her touch.

<a href='index.php?showuser=82' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Elizabeth Stanley</a>
<a href='index.php?showuser=26' rel='nofollow' alt='profile link' class='user-tagged mgroup-3'>@Beppin Pasqualigo</a>

Then helping her down, he stood there face to face, first time since the ship... his green eyes were searching her face for an acceptance of his apology.

He hadn’t sad anything other than for them to break and found the spot he wished to change mounts. He came and helped her down and she let him, because anything else would be another disagreement and she did not like being at odds with him. Not in any light. His dark green eyes searching hers and telling her more than any words as his strong hands held her and she slid from the saddle to the ground. He could see the light flush of her cheeks as he watched her, the soft tight smile.

God she loved him so much.

She still had little idea what had caused them to be at odds but when he looked at her like this she did not think anything would keep them against each other for long. She stepped into him and kissed him lightly, sweetly and said nothing else.

“There was a man who owns a balloon...

A Balloon? Had she heard him right? And there he went telling her the itinerary of the device and that he was upset they had missed the chance to utilize its course. It would have been interesting if it was safe, what if it did not have the right wind? How did they steer such contraptions? She had no idea if you did steer them even.

“You think it is reliable means of travel?’

He set to saddling her second mount and she runs over his map. He had planned so much on the ship while she was useless. She noted the route, the expected kilometers and how far he expected them to travel. She knew that he was well aware of what the animals could do; he was educated, trained and experienced in just this movement. She had no doubt that what he was telling her could be done. But she feared letting him down, slowing them up.

“One day?”

Her voice was a bit exasperated and astonished. She had thought by coach and how far the team of six pulling the coach could travel, three days and a tight three days one way. 50 kilometers a day by coach and that was pushing the animals’, fair roads, and no foul weather. But he shows over land and riding hard in one day.

“We can do it in one day... and if needed, one day back.”

She was not following, she missed something. And he continued on to explain what she had missed. That if they followed his plan they would meet the balloonist at a later stop and take it back to port. Or further on the England. He had been very busy when he was in the city. She could only nod listening to him. It was so out of her idea of travel that it was a bit overwhelming. But she would not say that she let uncertainty stop her from using whatever means were available to them.

And she had an idea about where his ornate pistol had gone. She asked, he tried to deflect and at her touch he explained. ” “I used it to buy our way on the balloon...”

She seriously hoped it was not a family heirloom or a reward for service. Not an item that he had sentimental attachments to. But he looked down when asked, and then tried to deflect. She feared it was a precious weapon.

“Was it very special to you?”

When he was done with her saddle and he looked to her once more she apologized for her behavior and told him clearly that she loved him as well. She had stayed so silent when he apologized and told her as much. She just did not want to say something she might have regretted in the confusion. Of which she understood a bit better now, but, not entirely what had transpired.

“My dearest Biatta... I beg thy forgiveness... I had no right to use such mannerism with you... you did not deserve it... but I was elated to do trade... to save us money, and time.”

They hugged and she leant into him entirely. This is where she wanted to be the moment she saw him walking back toward her with his two trains of horses. This is where she wanted to be when he had barked at her. This is where she hoped to always end up when they had parted and returned to one another.

“And you did excellent in your bartering. I can’t imagine how you got everything so quickly and in good shape. I was so happy to see the train of horses behind you when you lifted their reigns. So happy to see you walking back to me and my feet on something firm. Now then I will do my utmost to keep your pace and stay seated. I don’t want to ruin all your planning and hard work.”