Previous Instalments:
The Quiet Between Battles
Introduction:
In the late August the air hung heavy over the rolling Welsh hills, the scent of damp earth and the impending turn of the season, within the dim of the Hunter Safehouse though, this mixed with the bitter taste of the events from Lancaster – Cathryn sat silently by the fireplace, she had recovered physically from her fall in the Pennine Mountains, though some of her wounds were still tended too by her adopted daughter; Norina, at present though; her mind was not on the fight against the Imperium, but her daughter; Lydia – her slow recovery following her capture and brutal captivity to Cultists Edward and Joséphine.
Despite what Lydia had gone through – she had shown mercy in the face of the offer presented to her by George; Lydia had shunned giving into her ‘want’ for revenge and had instead turned it around demanding Joséphine’s release before George had left.
Cathryn’s long raven-dark hair, with silvery streaks fell forwards curtaining her face, hiding her silvery-grey eyes as she felt a growing sense of failure; failure for not giving any of her daughters a safe existence in a world full of danger.
Across the room; Thomas sat watching her quietly, he saw the slump in Cathryn’s posture – the silence of the room seemed to weigh heavier than it had since they’d relocated; a gentle creak above drew his gaze; upstairs, Lydia lay on her narrow bed still recovering; her face buried in a pillow to stifle sound – while her physical injuries were healing, her psychological scars remained raw – and still amongst them, Joséphine was now a resident amongst them, locked in her own room to keep both her and the rest of the group safe, Joséphine had made no efforts to escape, no efforts to manipulate or pick; she simply accepted the decisions to keep her safely at a distance while still providing her the care she felt she did not deserve after her role in what had been done, she recognised the strength it had taken Lydia to not give into that desire for revenge.
Chapter 1:
The 23rd of August, 1910
Wales
The late evening: Cathryn had moved to the back room with Thomas, her elder twin daughter; Elizabeth and adopted daughter; Norina, as she leaned over the table, Cathryn’s eyes roamed over the map unrolled across the table, her breathing soft and even as she gently tapped her fingers against the table in a steady rhythm.
Thomas leaned sideways against the wall, his head turned towards the table, eyes flickering over the map and various documents waiting; occasionally he’d glance towards Elizabeth or Norina; it wasn’t often he would spend such a long period around Norina, in fact he barely interacted with her even when he’d joined earlier that year; but now that he got to see her properly, he saw the eerie similarities Norina had that made her Lydia’s double; the same angelic innocence, the same raven-dark hair and silvery-grey eyes; the only difference between them was the posture, the gentleness; with Lydia being so serious and presenting a steely façade she looked ‘hardened’ even if he knew it hid something softer beneath, but Norina, she was simply the innocent one of the group.
He understood why Norina was so easily mistaken as Lydia’s actual twin despite being Italian and two-years younger, where as Elizabeth; she was the opposite.
Unlike Lydia and Norina who matched Cathryn physically – Elizabeth seemed to be the female embodiment of her father despite similar looks in her face, she shared her fathers Blonde Hair and Icy-Blue eyes, matching her mother’s taller stature unlike the smaller Lydia, she often presented a clipped aristocratic detachment that came across as cold and uncaring; but, from careful observation, Thomas could see that it was the same as her sister; a façade that kept things within her control, to avoid feeling the sense of powerlessness.
“We are runnin’ low on supplies” Cathryn said; her northern drawl softening but carrying the weight of authority, her eyes slowly drifting across the map – Thomas’s eyes now fixing back onto Cathryn, the subtle rustle of fabric from Elizabeth’s jacket as she leaned towards the table
“An’ the pantry is a bare; but we cannot risk tha’ village for a supply run” Cathryn continued, inhaling slowly as she looked towards her eldest daughter
“Where would we go if not to the village?” Elizabeth’s brow knitted in confusion as she watched her mother carefully “I doubt there is much we can scavenge from around the woods that would provide much benefit”
Cathryn thought for a moment, her gaze falling down to the map a moment, then, she clicked her tongue and felt a light tug at her lips “Aye, no…, not tha’ woods love, I think I know somewhere we can get the ‘elp we need ‘ere” she gestured towards a mark on the map “There is a farm ‘ere we can safely get help.., the woman I called mam after I came to the Smythe Estate”
Elizabeth’s expression maintained its expression of confusion as she watched her mother carefully “You called someone mum?” she queried, eyes widening in surprise
Cathryn chuckled lightly “Why is tha’ so surprisin’ love”
“I…, just never imagined….” She went quiet as she looked down at the map, Cathryn simply smiled “So…, who do you want to go, obviously my sister is in no state, Davidson here would be better served as a guard here, I doubt my sister would be happy if he was to go”
Gesturing towards Norina; the younger woman’s head popping upwards to meet Elizabeth’s gaze “Norina is unlikely of a choice, she is not a fighter, and obviously the Manchurian…, what is his name again…; Xian?…” she thought for a moment “Yes, Xian, he and Damir have not yet returned”
Cathryn shook her head slowly, her grin still present “Obviously Lizzie; you” she felt her lips tug up a little more “I want ‘er to meet ye” she told her warmly “Take Miquel with you; he has after all been…, keepin’ ye company as of late, and I am sure he’ll keep ye safe”
Elizabeth felt the warm rush up her neck, rising to her cheeks as she stares at her mother “I can take care of myself” she responded with a slight squeak to her voice, immediately defensive
“Aye; I am certain, now’t endangers me little icy-flower now does it” Cathryn joked “Go on love”
Elizabeth glanced away a moment, unable to meet her mother’s eyes as she felt her cheeks burning, slowly, she moved back, glancing at Thomas’s little smirk “Don’t say anything” she threatened; Thomas offering his hands in surrender but saying nothing
Along the winding path through the valley – fog began to roll in, Elizabeth walked with a determined purposeful stride, almost like a soldier’s gait, her boots crunching against the stone and dirt, the satchel bouncing at her hip with each movement, the holster sometimes peaking from beneath her jacket where the revolver hung – beside her was Miquel.
Miquel, a Kenyan-born subject of the Empire – 2-Years Thomas’s junior, he had joined Thomas’s regiment just at the end of the Second Boer War, and encountered the hardened soldier who would become his best-friend, now, despite having initially seen Thomas’s efforts to pursue Lydia after that first encounter in 1907, Miquel had begun to see his presence amongst the strange Hunter group not as just a companionable choice for Thomas, providing Thomas that extra support, but genuinely wanting to be part of the group, after the recent months and chaos, he had built a somewhat strange relationship with Elizabeth, initially viewing her as just another pampered elitist due to the icy-detached nature and even outright hostility during their first encounters which had been brief in 1908 during the year Elizabeth would switch from her father and the Imperium and to her mother and sister amongst the Hunters.
The recent months had built something uncertain, fragile; but, real – it now influenced his views on the group.
Elizabeth too had also noticed it, developing a sudden tendency to pull the much larger man by the wrist without asking, initially it had been to Miquel’s surprise; now, it was just a normal occurrence that he found amusing.
Chapter 2:
As Elizabeth and Miquel made their way through the valley; he noticed the way she seemed to be cataloguing threats, angles and the logistics of their return trip; slowly shaking his head, he couldn’t supress the urge to grin “You are walking to fast bibi” Miquel said softly; his voice a deep rumble with the Kenyan lilt “The supplies will not run away”
Her eyes briefly rolled “Efficiency is key Miquel” she responded – her attempt to be stern, though her voice softened ever so slightly as she tried to balance her usually clipped tone “We are exposed out here”
“And we’re exposed in a city, a village, a town; the safehouse we sleep” he countered, easily matching her stride, his rifle gently bouncing against his arm as his fingers wrapped around the strap “Yet, you do not walk around the safehouse with such haste”
She looked at him, her eyes narrowing a moment in an effort to look more serious “Are you criticizing me for being cautious?”
“Never” he grinned “But I am criticising your tension” he added, a small playful smile twisting his lips upwards “You hold yourself like you’re ready for going into battle for the first time, and at this rate, you’ll snap before we even reach the farm”
“I am fine” she turned her head away
“You’re brittle” he corrected gently – reaching his hand forwards, he gently brushed hers as he moved beside her before bringing his hand upwards to reach for the strap of her satchel noticing it was close to falling down the side of her shoulder – the brief contact though was electric; Elizabeth flinched as if she’d been burned, snapping her head around
“Do not touch me” she told him, though the command lacked its usual bite
Miquel just maintained his playful smile; unbothered “You know, you are like a rose bush; beautiful, sharp; yet you still need the rain”
“I am not a rose bush” she muttered, turning her face away to hide the flush creeping up “And I am not in need of…rain” she hesitated as she kept looking away
“Aren’t you?” he purposely moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers “You know, I have seen you watching your sisters and your mother, you carry a weight for all of them, you can see it, and that is on top of everything else you carry; but…, who carries you?”
“I carry myself” she answered, her voice was quieter than usual, the icy-façade cracking just a fraction
Miquel gave a slow nod
“Maybe….” Miquel paused, watching her carefully “But that is a lonely burden; Thomas has begun to present himself as a steady figure for Lydia alongside your mother, and Norina, she even has Erin to carry her confusion; but who teases the ice from your veins”
Elizabeth stopped walking, taking a moment to think then glances off to the distance for a moment processing then looks towards him, a gentle breeze flicking the strands of blonde hair across her eyes; she retained the fierce, guarded look, yet, even then she still looked undeniably vulnerable “You’re bold Miquel”
“I’ve survived a lot” he said, purposely stepping into her space, close enough she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze “I am not afraid of a woman that hides behind a wall of ice; I would just like to know what lies behind it”
For a moment, they stood there; the world seemingly to shrink around them within those moments, the first real shift since she’d woken up that morning at old mill they had taken up safety; how she’d awoken sleeping against him, how since that day they’d grown closer, while balancing it with the seriousness of trying to stop Cultists; finally, she exhaled, a shudder running through her “You are infuriating”
“And you are beautiful when you are angry” he replied, deliberately leaning downwards, his voice dropping into a soft murmur; bringing his left hand up to brush stray strands of hair from her face before gently bringing his hand to the side of her face – this time she didn’t make an effort to pull away, instead, she leaned into it, her face gently pressing into his hand, just barely – a silent admission for surrender “Come” she whispered, gesturing with her eyes “We have supplies to collect”
Miquel smiled, knowing he’d won a small, yet significant battle “Lead the way bibi”
Chapter 3:
Nestled within the valley – a stone cottage, surrounded by a field filled by grazing sheep, an isolated sanctuary hidden by the rolling Welsh hills; as Elizabeth and Miquel approached, Elizabeth felt a sudden apprehension.
This was the home of the woman Cathryn had claimed to call ‘mam’ – the woman that had adopted Cathryn when she was a young girl, before her life had been turned upside down by George Smythe; the cousin of Elizabeth’s own father – Anne Smythe.
Miquel noticed the sudden hesitation as Elizabeth stood in front of the gate, her hand hesitating against the wooden frame.
Taking a breath, Elizabeth pushed the gate open and continued forwards, Miquel close at her heel; though as they approached the front door, it was already in the process of opening before they even reached it; a woman stepping out wearing a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she bore the characteristic features of the Smythe Family; the Blonde Hair – her long Hair deliberately pulled back loosely, streaked with barely noticeable silver lines, and those blue eyes; unlike the usual glacial look, they came across more pale, and carried warmth yet still sharp and accessing, she blinked as she looked at Elizabeth and Miquel carefully.
Within a moment, Anne recognised exactly who Elizabeth was and moved forwards as her gaze fixed on the young woman before her; despite the sharp line in her jaw, the cold detachment and stance of someone use to being amongst aristocracy; she could see Cathryn in Elizabeth’s face “You look like both of them” Anne breathed “You can see who your father is, but you can also see your mother”
Elizabeth stiffed, unsure how to react – what to even say.
Anne’s expression softened, a look of aching recognition as she gestured inside “Come in; I have had the opportunity to meet Lydia, but you; I have never gotten the chance, I have wanted to meet you for such a long time”
Miquel gently gave Elizabeth a little pushed forwards, when she glances back he simply smiled and walked with her to join Anne inside the cottage – the interior was warm, smelling of sweet that mixed with the smell of burning wood from the fireplace; Anne had no hesitation in preparing cups of tea, approaching, she provided them both a warm cup and sat down; her eyes scanning Elizabeth’s face with a mother’s hunger “How is Cathryn…, is she well?” she asked softly
Sipping the tea, Elizabeth glanced about for a moment before slowly nodding “She is certainly better now than she was a couple of months ago” she said, her efforts to maintain the typical clipped voice, though she felt a strange vulnerability under Anne’s gaze “She has sent me for supplies, suggested coming here”
Anne simply smiled warmly, giving a slow nod “How about Lydia, and…, there is also an Italian girl from a letter Cathryn sent; someone called Norina?; how are they?”
“Lydia is…” Elizabeth hesitated a moment “…recovering; she has been struggling since being captured and, well…, what she went though, it nearly broke her, she is rather raw from her experience”
Anne looked at Elizabeth carefully, processing the way she is being careful in what to reveal – though, not to avoid details, but as if she was not wanting to speak them, not wanting to have to admit what her sister had gone through; but it was enough for Anne to work out what likely has happened “The poor girl” she said softly
“As for Norina; she is…, safe, she seems to have developed some kind of attachment to an American Cultist; or rather, a supposed former Cultist, a….” Elizabeth paused, blinking as she thought carefully then took a sip of her tea before adding “A woman…”
Anne raised her eyebrow immediately in response, a subtle twitch of her lips as she suppressed a slight grin “Interesting” Anne murmured “You know, you are so much like your mother, all that strength you posses, I can see it clearly”
Elizabeth blinked – a lump present in her throat; she had spent so many years being the ‘Loyal’ Daughter to her father, had so often shunned her mother until 1908 when she was so easily cast aside by George; and accepted without question by her mother – to even have any kind of comparison felt strange…, impossible to even imagine, to be seen as her mother’s daughter caused a swell of emotion – not realising how much she needed it.
Miquel noticed; his eyes watching Elizabeth’s face, noting the subtle tremble before deciding to interrupt the stretching quiet “We will need to return soon” he said gently
Elizabeth blinked moving her gaze from Anne towards Miquel – her demeanour shifting back to that icy detachment and more practical posture – Anne thought for a moment and smile “You’ve come for supplies, I’ll help you get them back, I would like to see Cathryn, it has been a long time since I have the chance to speak with her”
Elizabeth looks towards her; offering a warm smile “I think mother would like that” she said softly
Written By: Westley H.
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