Work Text:
The tide went out, and Will went with it.
Elizabeth watched the sails dwindle from inside her carriage, parked on a bluff well out of view of the docks. Then she rapped her hand on the carriage wall.
The carriage lurched into motion like a yawing sloop. Elizabeth smoothed her taffeta skirts.
Will had left behind his officer’s uniform and all the other bits and bobs that went with it.
“No one earns their first commission,” Elizabeth had tried to soothe him, like oil on a fire.
“Of course they do!”
“Not in society! Only midshipmen on charity-“ She knew immediately that she’d torched her own skiff.
Will had rounded on her, blazing. “I’m done with this. I’m done with you.”
Elizabeth had spent all winter trying. She’d tried with parties and gifts, dinners and loving touches.
Elizabeth thanked the coachman and stepped into their lovely cottage: her lovely cottage, now.
She went upstairs and waved off Betty and took off her blue taffeta, and cried to feel Will’s phantom hands on her.
Her father met her for tea. “My darling, you will get through this. You will be just fine.”
He patted her hand. “I have a surprise.”
Elizabeth stared as her father lumbered to the rowboat like a benevolent duck in silk. He put on a cork vest and held one out to her.
“Father,” she started, as she tied it on. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
She gave an uneasy glance to where the driver and the footmen and her father’s assistant were lounging in the shade. There were no sailors there.
“Yes, dear,” said her father, climbing in like a walrus and forcing her to finish tying on her vest and scramble to steady the boat. “It’s a beautiful day and you’re dressed for it already.”
That was the first time he’d mentioned her slacks, which she hurriedly rolled up as the water licked at them.
She took a hasty glance back, to see the group on the shore studiously ignoring her calves.
“Come, come, Elizabeth. My pirate queen. Don’t mind them.”
Her father patted the bench in front of him, and Elizabeth stared at him and pushed the boat off the sand and climbed in.
Father had an oar in the water, and looked at her expectantly. “Where shall we row? We’ll want to picnic.” He tapped the hamper under his seat.
Elizabeth gently took the oar from him and drew the other oar out from the side of the boat, and set them in the oarlocks.
“I know a spot,” she said, and began to row.