Gunpowder & Rose - a Return To Sanditon Novella

Twenty-Two

The day of the regatta dawned warm and bright. Rose woke early and readied herself. Restless, she decided to take a walk along the beach. The early morning sunshine reflected off of the water like a mirror, calm and untroubled. Her thoughts, by comparison, skipped and danced from one worry to the next. Today she would decide her fate if fate did not choose for her.

In the distance, she noticed a solitary figure lost in thought; staring out across the ocean. Crowe. He turned and began to walk slowly away from the water's edge, and as he ambled towards her, Crowe lifted a hand in greeting.

Smiling, she walked forward until they had each covered half of the distance between them. "Good morning, you are about early."

"You are a welcome sight, Rose. I find I enjoy mornings these days, and no one is more surprised than I at the discovery." Smiling, he added, "Are you well?"

He studied her carefully and noted the tension that marred her brow. "Have you much on your mind this morning?"

As he took hold of her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, they continued to walk along, without direction nor destination.

"I keep thinking of all the possible outcomes that may befall us this day. The chances of things going entirely to plan are somewhat slim, don't you think?" Rose looked at Crowe, searching for some sign to suggest that he was confident in their plan.

Crowe sighed, "I will own that things have grown a deal more complicated." He took a deep breath before proceeding to tell her all that they had discovered.

"How truly shocking," Rose exclaimed in disbelief and outrage. "Those poor women! Something must be done, surely? My situation is nothing compared to the suffering they have endured."

"The three of us reached the same conclusion. Babington has an acquaintance, Hargreaves, who is joining us today," Crowe advised. "He is a man with interesting connections, so I hear. We hope that he may have some thoughts on how we proceed."

They walked along in companionable silence for a short distance, each lost to their own thoughts. Crowe could feel the tension running through Rose. It was a lot to take in, he knew that, but as they walked, he feared that her resolve to see this through was wavering.

He stopped, "Rose? We will get through this; you know that don't you? There is nothing; not a single consequence, that could possibly divert us from the path we are travelling."

He reached up to tuck a wild strand of her golden hair that had been captured by the sea breeze, behind her delicate ear and met her sky-blue eyes. What he saw there took his breath away; her belief and trust in him. He hoped he was worthy of her faith. However, there was also a shadow that proclaimed her concern. By the end of today, he hoped he could banish that shadow for good.

The morning moved on at pace. After Crowe had left her at the hotel, Rose broke her fast. She swapped her plain cotton dress for a pretty sprigged muslin in a cheerful sunshine yellow. She needed every defence in her armoury today, even if the best she could muster was a splash of colour.

After leaving Rose at the hotel, Crowe made his way through the streets to Waterloo Road. He and Babington had agreed that their affairs should be conducted in the privacy of their friend's residence. The last thing that they needed at this juncture was their adversary to suspect that they were conspiring against him.

As he crossed the threshold, he heard voices. Babington's was easily discernible, but another spoke that was unfamiliar. Stood next to the fireplace, was a dark-haired gentleman. Dressed sombrely, he held himself in the manner of a military man. His countenance gave nothing away; both guarded and yet alert. The eagerly awaited Hargreaves, he presumed.