Sequel to CAPSIZE
The adventure continues as Celia finally escapes Elizabeth's iron grasp, but the horrors that await the recently free, seemingly happy couple surpass their expectations.
Set in 1500s America
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The shrill wailing pierced Celia's ears and woke her from a peaceful slumber. She groaned and pushed herself upright, blinking a few times as her vision cleared from her sleepy haze and adjusted to the darkness. Her eyes wandered the room until they landed upon the two month old baby wriggling around in the crib at the foot of her bed.
She placed her feet on the cold floor, wincing at the sudden shift in temperature, and shuffled across the room, leaning down and hovering over her shrieking child. "Shhh, shhh," she said as she carefully lifted the baby, bringing it to her chest. The song her mother would croon to soothe her when she was a child crept into her mind, and suddenly, without any thought, her lips began to move, her voice gentle as it laced through the winter air. "Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast?" she began to sing softly. "Look how the snowy mountains. Heav'n's sun doth gently waste. But my sun's heav'nly eyes view not your weeping that now lies sleeping. Softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping."
She jiggled her arms as she hummed the rest of the song, the baby's cries slowly hushing until they were no longer audible. Celia smiled as the baby closed its tiny green eyes and drifted back off into sleep, its pink lips parting as it sighed with comfort. She swayed a little longer until she was completely sure that the baby was asleep, and placed it back into the crib.
Before climbing back into bed, Celia stood beside her baby and looked down. "How I wish your father were here."
✿
"Ale?" Jane asked. The young girl spoke softly and timidly as she held the pitcher of ale in her small, rough hands. Celia presumed she was around fourteen years old, and by the looks of her hands she had been in service for many years. There were callouses littered across her slightly tanned skin and scars from burns, undoubtedly from boiling water or stoking a fire.
Celia shook her head and waved off the servant. Her eyes shifted and fixated on her plate full of food below her that she had not touched. Before she could even think about shoveling a scoop of the mash into her mouth, the baby began to wail. Celia stood up and walked away from her place at the table, and picked up her baby from its crib, cradling the four month old child in her arms as she rocked back and forth, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"Good morning," Isabel chirped as she entered the dining room. Her blonde curls bounced against her back as she walked over to the table and lowered herself down slowly, bracing the arms of the chair for support.
Celia smiled at her sister. "I remember the days when it was so hard to get up and down that I thought I would never move again."
Isabel laughed softly and looked down at her round belly. "I'm just ready to meet my son."
