April 12, 1891 - The docks in Plymouth

Evander Darrow

Returning to dry land, specifically to England, was nothing like arriving in the first place, nor leaving. The adventure Caroline had longed for had found her, forcing a price she had not yet fully anticipated. The ocean still sang to her, still rocked her, was still immensely beautiful. But it was terrible too. She could feel the icy cold fingers of the water that had surrounded them, the dread that had pooled in her stomach had remained even after Alfred had rescued them. Yet she had found herself ill at ease aboard his ship, and all too grateful when it docked the day after her rescue.

She worried, as she descended the gangplank, over the fates of Nimiane and Hope. She could only too clearly picture Shawn's stern face attempting to mask his worry when he inquired over his wife, his anger when Caroline admitted she didn't know. Instead, her brothers had embraced her, pulling her tight to them the moment she stepped off the wooden walkway, her legs shaking at the sudden lack of movement. She clung to them, holding back the sudden tears that had sprung to her eyes at the sight of Tony and Shawn. Nimiane had arrived home already, it seemed, and was resting, indeed, Caroline was the only one they had found themselves fearing for. Then they stepped aside.

Evander. Caroline's mouth was dry as she saw her fiancé standing beyond her brothers. She should have known to expect him, he had always been so protective of her in his own way. But the sight of him made her stomach flip and the tears come unbidden to her eyes even as a smile grew across her lips. She wanted to throw herself into his arms but decorum demanded better of her. She stepped toward him, realizing as she did so that she hardly looked like the woman he had waved off. Her silk evening gown was stained with salt water, stiff and ruined on her, even the shawl she had pulled around her could hardly hide that. Four days of little food and water had taken their toll, her face and body had grown thinner and her lips were cracked. Her pale complexion was red with sunburn. At least she had managed to a brush for her hair, but it lay in a simple braid down her back instead of an elaborate style he had always seen. "Evander." Her words were a whisper of greeting even as an irrational fear that he might not want her in this state came to mind.

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   Evander Darrow

He was never going to be able to say a bad word about Alfred again. He was sure he would have felt this too, even watching the rest of the rescued arrive - but he scarcely saw their faces, hinged as he was on just one.

He had planted himself a little past her family, and remained rooted there while they each folded her into their arms the way he very much wanted to. Instead Evander dug his fingernails into his palms, deep enough to reassure himself this was real, and waited, trying to smooth the creases of his face away from the expression that had lived there for the last few days.

“You’re alive,” he said hoarsely, having not dared to believe it until this precise moment, until Caroline was here in front of him, finally close enough to touch. Thank Merlin. And perhaps he had meant to restrain himself, stay back and just take stock of her - the cracked lips and sea-ruined dress, the same bright eyes set in her sunburned face - but taking her by the hands did not seem enough. So he wrapped his arms around her in sheer relief, not knowing how to verbally express his gratitude that she had not died. “I thought -” He shook his head uselessly. That he would never see her again.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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His arms wrapped around her, warm and sheltering, a harbor - her harbor. "Oh, Evander." She could find no other words as her arms wrapped around him, clinging to him. The tears she had managed to hold back began to well, she felt one trickle down her cheek and then another.

It had been horrible for her. But it had been a different type of horror that Evander faced, one she had faced with Nimiane and Hope. But it was different too than even that. Those had been the ties of sisterly love, bonds build from friendship. Evander's worry was something she hoped she would never experience.

She could feel the depth of his emotions - her stoic fiance - as he held her close to him. He had thrown all thoughts of what others would think away in his fear and relief for her - if that didn't say something than Caroline wasn't sure what would. No, he loved her, just as she loved him. There was no room for doubts anymore, he had sustained her soul on those waves, but the press of his arms was enough to make her realize that she didn't care if she were chained to parlor for the rest of her life, only that he would be there waiting for her.

"Don't." The word was soft, gentle, murmured against his ear. Whether to reassure herself or himself, she wasn't sure. "I'm here. You're here. That is all that matters." She pressed her arms tighter around her, hiding her face against him. She never wanted to leave his side again. It was a startling thought, but a realization that settled with calm certainty into her very being. This was the life she chose. A life with Evander by her side.

  

She had said his name again and wrapped her arms around him as well, and Evander barely registered that they had rarely, if ever, held each other like this, or so tightly.

And he ought to be the one comforting her rather than let her attempt to comfort him - and she was right; she was back, alive, what more comfort could he need? - but his throat was still too dry to say I know aloud. Instead, he shifted one hand up to her hair, resting it there at the crown of her head to hold her more firmly against him. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, wordlessly, but for all he knew it could have been hours and still would not have been enough.

When he loosened his arms at last it was only to prop her up at a short distance away and rake his eyes over her in another burst of worry. Caroline was crying, and it broke him a little inside - but he put both hands up to her face to brush away the tear-tracks, remembering the rain on her face from an Irvingly summer and forgetting, for a fleeting moment, all that she must have been through to lead her here.

“Are you - well?” Evander said, when at last he had lowered his hands to find hers, to keep her here in front of him. His bottom lip felt like it was almost trembling; he hadn’t known relief could feel so impossibly tidal in his chest. “How did you - what - I -” he stammered, hardly caring which unarticulated question she answered or what she said next, as long as it came with more proof, in the sound of her voice, that she’d come home. He had been so certain she wouldn’t, and he had never been more glad to be wrong.

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In some small back corner of Caroline's mind that had worried over Evander's lack of affection, his hesitation toward touch, the doubts melted. His hand gently touched her hair leaving her with the feeling of sinking deeper into him. It was amazing how much comfort a simple gesture could bring. A comfort that Caroline allowed herself to nestle into, safe and secure for the first time in what felt like her whole life. She lost track of time, of holding Evander, of Evander holding her. Time simply didn't matter.

When Evander stepped back the cold air blew back between them and Caroline's heart sunk. If she could have stayed like that all the rest of her days she didn't think she would have minded. When he only moved enough to see her face though, her mind calmed and a small smile crossed her lips as he gently wiped the tears away. His fingers left a trail of warmth behind.

Then his hands found hers like an anchor holding her sheltered in the harbor. "I am." In truth she wasn't sure, but she hated the lines of worry around his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead that had creased him since she had left, she would not add to them. She would be fine in the long run, she was sure. "Just tired." And hungry and thirsty.... and scared.

His questions barely formed but she knew what he meant and squeezed his hands gently in reassurance. "A gentleman was kind enough to help me." She started, her smile tired on her lips. "When I reached the lifeboats they were almost all gone and all full and Elsie made sure I got on one." Otherwise Caroline was quite certain she would have been left to the waters and that ending would not have been as good of one. But that was where Caroline stopped. She was not ready to worry him with what it had been like on the boat of scared women with little food and little water. "Your brother finally found us yesterday." She ended tilting her lips into a smile.

  

Now that he had pulled back enough to look at her, Evander was less convinced of her answer that yes, she was well. She did not look - herself; he had never seen her look quite like this, and he raked his gaze over her more worriedly, whatever she said, scared that it was more than just exhaustion and dishevelment.

But his eyes eventually returned to hers as she managed a few details of what she had been through - as if he had not considered it in great detail, imagined all the horrific things that could have happened, the myriad ways in which she might have drowned. A gentleman - well, good, as he should was all Evander could think at that; and he didn’t know who Elsie was, but he was grateful to her too; and he might have been outraged at the lifeboats being almost all gone (of course these cruise ships did not plan properly for disaster, they probably thought it a waste to have any lifeboats at all), if she had not gone on to mention his brother.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Evander got out - for all of it, really - and he managed a weak smile back at her. “And thank Merlin for him and his damned ship, I suppose -” he said, with almost a laugh at the absurdity, because Alfred’s ship had been actually cursed once, and his whole career had seemed cursed, and now it felt like it had all been a blessing. If he had not even had Alfred’s letters detailing his progress out there, how much worse would have Evander been these last few days, knowing nothing at all? “I - I wish I could have been there,” he added, without really thinking about it, although in truth he would have been utterly good for nothing at rescuing people from shipwrecks and probably no comfort to anyone either, even Caroline. He squeezed her hands, and then realised she had said she was tired, was probably dead on her feet. “Here, you ought to sit - you ought to go home -” he blurted out, knowing it was necessary and the most sensible course, although at the same time he could not fathom letting her out of his sight so soon.

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At his sentiment Caroline smiled, she had been thinking of Evander when salvation had arrived in the form of his brother. She had selfishly a small part of her had half hoped he would be on the boat to greet her - foolish thinking, she was much more pragmatic than that. But she had wanted to see Evander, to be held in his arms. Even seeing Shawn and Tony, nothing had reassured her of her safety like Evander's embrace had. "You are here now." Her face softened with her gentle tone. How she would hate having to leave his side, she felt certain now that she had returned to it that she would never wish to leave it. But the wedding was months away yet.

As if echoing her fears Evander began to suggest going home. She wasn't ready to leave his side yet, oddly the thought brought fissures to her composure and the sting of tears to the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened and she shook her head as she tried to think of the words to convince him that wasn't necessary, her hands tightening their grip slightly on his own. Honesty was the best in this case, she decided. "I'd rather stay with you." It didn't matter how exhausted she was, or that her legs felt weird on solid ground, it just mattered that he was with her.

  

A stiff upper lip, emotional reserve were the prerogatives of this side of the Atlantic, Evander well knew. It was not that Caroline Delaney was not expressive, because she was: in that light, airy, easy way that spoke to natural confidence and charm, something in the way she had been raised. But there was usually something still composed about her, a kind of imperviousness that left her untroubled by wasps and thunderstorms at picnics or boggarts or fireworks or situations of personal danger or glowering step-nieces or even particularly hopeless partners in conversation (by which he meant him); so the wavering look on her face now was a sign enough of just how bad the shipwreck had been.

“I don’t know what I’d have done if I had lost you,” he admitted, loud enough for only her to hear, and the rue in his shaking head and his helpless smile illustrated that well enough, how lost he would be without her now. More than he had known, maybe. He was not sure he would have been able to get over it - and he really ought not to say these things, but she was so exhausted perhaps the feeling in it would safely pass her by.

In any case, he cleared his throat and spoke next in a more usual tone. “Well, it’s probably best you catch your breath a little before you apparate anywhere,” he advised, and this was mostly excuse to loiter a little longer with her, rather than giving her up to her brothers immediately. (He might have accompanied them home, but he was of the opinion that family ought to come first in these things, and as yet, he was not quite hers.) “Here, at least sit down,” he said, dropping onto the low stone wall beside her; and perching on walls outdoors like a couple of vagrants was a far less dignified activity than befitted either of them, but after all she had gone through and how relieved he was to have her here at all, he supposed he could bear it just this once.

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There was something so gentle in his gaze that she had no doubt of his words, in case she had his tone would have dispelled it immidately. But for once Caroline could think of nothing to say nothing to do other than to gently squeeze his hand. It did not do to dwell on things that had not come to pass, after all.

It was excuse, they both knew it, but Caroline merely nodded and allowed him to tug her down on the wall, grateful to rest her legs - despite the days she had spent sitting the life boat. Her brothers, she was sure, ,were watching, Tony might have turned around, but Shawn was much too protective to do that. Caroline found she didn't have the energy to care. "Thank you." Her words were hushed as she merely took in his presense.

Another moment passed and Caroline knew she should say something - anything. Her mind tumbled over pleasantries, finding them hard to formulate after all that had passed. It was clear she could not ask after Evander - he had been shaken to his core, his admission had said as much. Work was likely not much better, from what she could tell the Ministry had been helping with rescue attempts, and his family - well she knew more about Alfred's current movements than likely Evander did. Which left his niece. "How is Charity?"

  

If he allowed himself to sit a little nearer to her than he ordinarily might have, enough to feel her arm against his, Evander pretended he had done it unwittingly, and not because she was a grounding presence.

For a moment neither of them spoke, and Evander was at just as much of a loss of what to say; it seemed grossly insensitive to ask about the rescue mission, and equally so to ignore it in favour of the pleasant holiday the first part of the cruise might have been, but eventually Caroline found solid conversational ground, too.

Well, theoretically. Charity’s a morbid little creature sometimes, and I have the unpleasant suspicion she would have been pleased if you had been lost at sea, Evander did not say. That he could not say. Nor could he explain she was well enough, but I was a wreck and possibly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

So his first answer was written only in his furrowed brow, but by the time he glanced sidelong at her, he had mustered up a false smile to make up for it. “Oh, she’s - resilient. Quite unfazed, for someone so young...” He did not want to say odd, but - well, Caroline was a cheerful presence, that would be good for Charity. Miss Clearwater was perhaps more the motherly, disciplinary presence she needed, but Caroline would nevertheless be - a role model, and perhaps a friend to her. Evander could only imagine what would become of Charity if left alone with him. Rather a grisly, downcast picture the two of them made.

“I doubt if we will be venturing on any cruises, ourselves, though,” he added, which - was not at all a joke. Hopefully Alfred would not think to take her sailing again anytime soon after all this, and after the things Charity had ruminated about, like being lost beneath the waves. “But she will be - glad to hear you are safe,” Evander said hurriedly.

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"Good." Caroline demurred, not having the energy to truly consider his words. She would think on them, his facial expressions, all of it later when she had had some rest. Gotten her mind back together and her feet on the ground, so to speak.

Caroline's first insist was to protest, which she did, "Cruises aren't all bad-" But then the memories swirled around her and she had to hastily amend, "When you trust the captain." She'd learned what had happened, or the best that could be pieced together and as far as she was concerned she'd never go on a boat again where she didn't know the captain. How fortunate for her that she knew two personally and trusted the ones in her father's fleet that she had grown up with.

"But truly, I am glad that she is alright." And then, although she knew she ought not to have, she looked at him, "And you? Are you alright?" There was no need to affect concern, indeed Caroline rather thought that she should try harder to mask it. But she wouldn't - couldn't and so it was there plain on her face as the sunburn and chapped lips.

  

Evander made a scornful noise in his throat at her moment of protest; she did at least amend the sentiment, but trusting the captain was not persuasion enough for him that anyone should trust their luck aboard.

Fortunately when she was his wife – very soon, in fact – he would not have to worry about her taking off on reckless ventures like he always had his brother. No, she would be there with him and after the expected honeymoon they need not travel anywhere for a good long time. And then Evander found her looking at him, asking if he was alright, and –

“Oh,” he started, feeling the sigh bundled up in his chest somewhere, the excesses of tension still being siphoned out of him now. “You know...” Well, she knew what it was like to worry about someone lost at sea. She knew how much it would hurt him to lose her; she must do, by now. He... ought to say it, somehow, but he didn’t know how. So – “Better now you’re here.”

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It was as if she could hear the whole story in that sigh, it reminded her so much of when Shawn had gone missing. She had hoped and prayed (even though she was not truly a devout person) long after everyone had assumed that he had been lost to them. The world had not seemed right until he had walked back through the door back to them. Then it occurred to her - Evander had known this feeling before as well. Indeed, they had talked about their experiences with missing brothers. How much worse it must have been to feel this for her? She had felt it horribly out on the ocean, but this was the second time he had been subjected to it on the ocean with no news. Her brows furrowed with concern as this occured to her and she waited for his answer.

His words brought a rather wobbly smile to her lips. "I can not imagine how horrible it must have been." Her words whispered between them, and even though she knew them as truth and hardly doubted his love for her, her cheeks warmed with a slight blush. How presumptious of her. But she knew she was right, even if she perhaps ought not to have said it and so she kept her eyes on him and softened them with as much understanding as she could.

  

Evander’s jaw tightened at that. How horrible it must have been; he was fairly certain she could imagine, if she tried – after all, she had been through the same thing with her brother, even if perhaps she would not feel quite as badly to contemplate losing Evander as he had her – but the fact remained that he did not want her to imagine it.

Or imagine him that way. The mess he had been. “I would rather you – didn’t try,” he said delicately: he felt that she was searching for something out of him, almost, but what did she want him to do? Break down here, in public, now that she was back, now that he didn’t have to fear? He’d made a fool of himself in front of near everybody else he knew when she’d been away; surely he could keep a little dignity in front of Caroline, if no one else. “It doesn’t matter now. And no doubt it was far worse aboard.”

Not that he wanted to think about that anymore either: the last few days had been taxing enough, emotionally, presumably for them both. Maybe he was just too tired to talk, right now. Maybe he should leave, let her settle back in, let things return to normal once they were both recovered.

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Caroline inclined her head in agreement. For his sake she would allow herself not to contemplate it, to simply know it had been horrible for him. His words had been confirmation enough of that as it stood. She gave him a small smile and might have waved away his last statement if Shawn had not approached them. It was clear that this moment of grace from her brothers was now over. She couldn't blame them, Tony and Shawn had likely been just as worried sick as Evander. Or if not Evander than as worried as Caro had been for Shawn and Tony had been for Shawn. There she went again, imaging precisely what Evander had asked her not to.

"I think that is my cue." Disappointment layered Caroline's quiet voice next to Evander. But she gave his hand one more squeeze, wishing she could hug him or kiss him or something. With Shawn looking on that wasn't likely. "You'll visit soon?" It wasn't meant to be a question but it lilted up at the end as if it were. She hated that, but she'd hate if she didn't see him even more.

  

And there was a brother of hers, lurking as a shadow; if Evander had wanted to communicate something more just here, something to express how deeply he felt or how desperately he had feared, the moment was gone.

He stiffened slightly in place, mouth a firm line. That said, at her question, at the squeeze of her hand and the trill of a question in it – when had she ever needed reassurance like this? – Evander’s mouth softened again. “As soon as you’ll have me,” he promised. He would be there tomorrow. He would be there today, if he didn’t think she deserved a little time to acclimatise, to wash and eat and rest.

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