The Call of The Sea

George: 29th May

If I had been a fool before, I had far surpassed myself by this morning. Emilie had left early in the morning, and I had let her walk straight out of my life. Because I felt it was my duty to do so. I had no right to her.

What we had shared last night had been indescribable in any words. For a few hours, she had belonged to me. I possessed her, and she was mine. And it was the most incredible feeling in the entire world.

I had watched her sleep for a few hours, her heavenly beauty magnified by the peace of sleep. Gently wrapped in my bedsheets and my arms, the feeling of possession was heightened.

I couldn't sleep with her there in my arms and I was loathe to disturb her, so I left her. Her curls spread across my pillow with a soft smile playing across her lips as I gently extricated myself.

I walked over to and stared out of the window, daring not to gaze on her sleeping form. I wasted the last moments I would spend in her presence as if they meant nothing. In truth, they had meant everything.

She told me she loved me. Laid her heart open to me again. And as before, I wanted to return the courtesy; tell her how I loved her so much that every thought I had managed to summon in the last days had been of her.

But the guilt overwhelmed me once more. Now she would not be with Mr Gasper, she would return home and build a life with a man who deserved her. A man who could bring her everything she wanted. A man who was not me.

Removing the image of her in another man's embrace, I remained very still until I was sure she had left the ship. I felt that if I moved, my resolve would have shattered. Rising, I regarded the feminine influence that had been injected into my cabin so briefly. The memories only heightened my melancholy.

When I collected the shirt I had abandoned upon the floor, I touched the collar, much as she had the night before. I neatened up the bedcovers, absorbing every inch of her poignant scent that had rubbed off onto the sheets. For a second, I felt a weakness that brought me down to my knees with loss.

Distractedly dressing and determined to put thoughts of Emilie Somerson far from my mind, I left the ship for an aimless perambulation. Somehow, everywhere I walked held memories of her.

Gladdon Place, where she had come to seek me, and I had taken her onto my ship. Hyde Park, where I had realised that I had no right to her. The street of the house where the ball had been held, where I had kissed her without reproach.

It was only as I walked over the bridge where I had met her the first day that I stopped walking. In the middle of the bridge. Transported back to that moment, I could almost feel the fabric of her dress as I had caught her. Almost see the relieved smile that spread over her enchanting features. Almost smell that feminine scent that migrated from her.

It had been a happy accident. A twist of fate that had brought us together. I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring this painful memory. With no little shock, I realised that tears were falling down my face.

Raising my hand to wipe them away, I broke into a run. I had to see her. Just one more time. Or I would definitely go insane. Running through the crowds of the busy London streets, I could barely see straight. Her visage appeared in the back of my mind, and it only made me run faster.

Reaching the square, I saw a carriage pulling away from her house. My heart sank, and I stopped abruptly. Seeing through the window of the carriage, Emilie had her head bent. Dressed beautifully in a new outfit, she looked nothing like the woman I had bid goodbye an hour or so ago. She seemed perfectly cool and collected, with no sign of the chaos within my own head and heart.