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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Nine months later...
Beads of sweat gathered upon her forehead, creating a crystal-like crown on her flushed skin. Celia lurched forward with a groan, her body searing with pain. As the waves of torture began to subside, her body fell back onto the plush, now sopping wet pillows beneath her back.
"Get ready to push, my lady."
Celia pressed her palms onto the sheets of the bed and wiped the dampness from them. She then gathered the fabric in her fists, bracing herself for the immense pain that she knew was coming. Feeling a cool hand on her bare arm, she flinched and looked to her left.
"Bea," she breathed with relief, "You made it."
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Beatrice replied with a tender smile, her familiar blue eyes shining in the candlelight.
Celia took Beatrice's hand in her own and squeezed it tight. The cramps in her abdomen were indescribable. The world around her blurred and she could no longer hear the encouraging words of Beatrice, nor the words of wisdom of the midwife. All that she had to guide her were her instincts. Feeling a rush of energy, she did the only thing she knew to do. With all of her might, Celia pushed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the pain relented for a moment. She collapsed backward again, her surroundings returning to their normal state and her hearing began to return only slightly.
"You're doing wonderful, Celia," Beatrice cooed.
There was not enough time for her to respond. Another painful wave overcame her entire being. Once again, the voices disappeared completely. She could see the face of the midwife; the wrinkles forming on her forehead and her once encouraging smile fading to a thin line. Celia began to panic. She watched the mouth of the midwife as she spoke, but could only hear the high pitched ringing in her ears.
Distressed, Celia jolted upright and looked at Beatrice with fear in her eyes. Her friend gently pushed her back down as she spoke inaudible words. Celia felt tears form in her eyes. Without thought, she began to push, slowly feeling the energy being drained from her as she did so.
She screamed, feeling her throat go raw from the strain on her voice, but could not hear it. Her head grew heavy and her vision blurred. The world around her was fuzzy and silent and dim. She rested her head against the pillow and fixed her eyes on the door of the room, studying the intricate engravings in the dark wood. The swirls confused her. Was it her vision, or the design that the carver had intended? She blinked a few times, trying her best to focus on the details, when a sharp cry pierced her ears.
The door flew open. Harry, clad in a half-buttoned up white blouse and skintight pants, burst into the room with wild eyes and parted lips. His glittering emeralds skimmed the room for the cry of his child, finding it swaddled in the midwife's arms. He then shifted his attention to his wife.
Celia lay on her back, her face pale and almost lifeless as her breathing slowed to a steady pace. Harry dashed to her side, where Beatrice once stood, grasping her hand with his. He smiled at her, but she was far too weak to return the gesture.
Beatrice walked toward the couple with their bundle of joy in her arms, her face expressing a strained happiness as she handed the baby to Celia. "It's a boy."
Celia held the baby close to her heart. She gazed down at him, feeling her energy come back to her slowly, and smiled.
Harry placed his hand atop the baby's head, rubbing it lightly. He had a full head of hair, just like his father.
"What shall we name him?" Celia asked, her voice gravelly and soft.
"Walter? After Walter Raleigh—he was like a father to me."
She nodded gently. "It suits him perfectly," she said as she looked down at him.
A light knock on the door broke Celia and Harry's silent gazes and caused them to look up at the door as it opened slowly. James stepped through the threshold with Nerissa and Izzy at his feet. At the sight of her new brother, Nerissa eagerly ran over to her mother's side, towing Izzy along behind her by the hand.
"You have a little brother, darling," Celia said to her daughter.
Harry scooped Nerissa up, allowing her to peer down at her brother with wide, glittering eyes. She cooed as she looked down at him, her tiny lips curling into a smile at the sight of the new addition to their family.
A comforting silence filled the air, casting a sense of peace across the room's inhabitants. Celia's eyes wandered around, moving from face to face, absorbing every feature of every person.
James, with Izzy on his hip, stood near the door with his eyes downcast. Celia felt sorry for him. The death of her sister was a plague for both of them, but it seemed to be incurable for James. Celia had her own family to fill the void in her heart left by the absence of Isabel, and James had only little Izzy, who was a constant reminder of what he had lost. He channeled his grief into love for his daughter, but there was a permanent gray dullness in his eyes and a black shadow that followed him constantly. She worried that he would never recover.
Her eyes flickered over to Beatrice, who was alone at the foot of the bed, nervously twisting her wedding ring 'round and 'round on her thin finger. Guilt flooded Celia's senses; Beatrice had been unable to produce a child. She chewed on her lip and tried her best to not look melancholy, but Celia could see right through her facade.
"Bea," Celia said. Beatrice looked up at her friend with doleful eyes, and Celia immediately lost her words. There was nothing she could say that would accurately depict her feelings of regret and pity, so she simply gave her a sympathetic smile.
It was as if her thoughts had been translated through the action perfectly. Beatrice nodded as tears filled her eyes. She blinked vigorously in a desperate attempt to be happy for her friend, but they spilled down her cheeks instead. Before anyone could notice, she wiped them away with a swift motion and smiled back at Celia, erasing any previous emotions from her face, even though they still remained in her heart.
Celia looked up at her husband, who met her gaze in an instant. "My love, could you give Bea and I a moment?"
He nodded in agreement and placed a kiss on her forehead, then doing the same to his son before heading for the door, ushering James and Izzy out as well.
"Celia?" Beatrice said as the door clicked shut, her brows quirked with confusion.
"Come," she said, bobbing her head to the space next to her on the bed. Beatrice complied and sat on the edge of the bed silently. "It's been so long... I didn't think you would come, your response to my letter was vague. What is this condition you wrote of?"
"I was granted leave by the Queen on the condition that I would persuade you to return to court with me."
"I don't understand," Celia said, her features ridden with astonishment. She propped herself up to brace herself for the remainder of what Bea had to say.
"Her Majesty is ill, the physicians know not how much longer she will last. She wishes to make amends and to say goodbye before her time comes. Will you accompany me? After you heal, of course. And your family is urged to come along."
Celia pursed her lips in thought, looking down at her baby boy as if he would give her the answer of what to do. He was beautiful; the perfect product of herself and Harry. Had the Queen not banished them from court, their life could have been much different—Walter might not have been born. She rolled the thought over in her head and then looked back up at Beatrice. "We will."
