Hatherton, December 12th, 1711
One morning, Edward awoke from a drunken stupor, blinking in the morning light, only to find Caroline already dressed for the day ahead.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, then turned and left the room.
---
One night Edward sat in the Livid Brews. He'd like to say he was not his usual self, as he sat with his back to the rest of the tavern hunched over his tankard, taking great big gulps in between dark thoughts and watching the level fall. Always, watching the level of his ale fall.
But the sad fact of the matter was that Edward was his usual self. That younger man, that rogue always ready with a quip and a smile, had disappeared. In his place, still a young man but one who had the cares of the world on his shoulders. It seemed like an eternity ago: running water, electric lights, a pair of mates like Anders and Nathan, the idea he could make something of himself.
On the farm Caroline helped Mother, who at first had been horrified by the idea, saying Caroline was too much of a lady to work on the farm. Caroline had just laughed and insisted. At first when Edward watched her stride across the same yard where he had first seen her sitting astride her horse, currently wearing a crisp white bonnet, work boots, a smock and apron, he’d had a proud feeling. But seeing her in work-clothes had come to be a reminder of his own failings as a man.
What made it worse somehow was that Caroline didn’t seem to mind; it was as though she was the only person in the area who did not see her current position as a descent down the social ladder. Everybody else did, and none felt it more keenly than Edward.
“Can I get you another ale?” Edward recognized the voice that came from behind him and turned to see Emmett Scott, Caroline’s father. Edward’d last seen him at the wedding, when he refused his daughter her dowry. But here he was, offering his hated son-in-law a drink. That’s the thing about the drink, though. When you’re into the drink like Edward was, when you watch the level of your ale fall and wonder where your next one is coming from, you’ll take a fresh mug from anyone. Even Emmett Scott. Edward's sworn enemy. A man who hated Edward almost as much as Edward hated him.
So Edward accepted his offer of an ale, and he bought his own, pulled up a stool, which scraped on the flag-stones as he sat down.
At that moment, talking to the hated Edward Kenway, Scott looked pained. Edward felt completely at home in the tavern, as it was an environment in which he could lose himself, but it didn’t suit Emmett at all. Every now and then he would glance over one shoulder, then the next, like he was frightened of being attacked suddenly from behind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a chance to talk,” he said. Edward made a short, scoffing laugh in reply.
“Your appearance at the wedding put paid to that, did it not?”
Of course the booze had loosened his tongue, made him brave. That and the fact that in the war to win his daughter Edward had won. Her heart, after all, belonged to him and there was no greater evidence of her devotion to Edward than the fact that she had given up so much to be with him. Even Emmett must have seen that.
“We’re both the men of the world, Edward,” he said simply, and you could see he was trying to make himself seem in charge. But Edward saw through him. Edward saw what he really was: a frightened, nasty man, browbeaten in business, who kicked downwards, who probably beat his servants and his wife, who assumed the likes of Edward ought to be bowing and scraping to him, like Edward's parents had done at the wedding. (Edward felt a sudden twinge of anger at the thought, but there was little to do about it now.)
“How about we do a deal like men of business?”
Edward took a long slug of his ale and held Emmett's eyes. “What did you have in mind, father-in-law of mine?”
Emmett's face hardened. “You walk out on her. You throw her out. Whatever you want. You set her free. Send her back to me.”
“And if I do?”
“I’ll make you a rich man.”
Edward drained the rest of his ale. Emmett nodded towards it with questioning eyes and Edward said yes, waited while he fetched another one, then drank it down, almost in one go. The room was beginning to spin.
“Well, you know what you can do with your offer, don’t you?”
“Edward,” he said, leaning forward, “you and I both know you can’t provide for my daughter. You and I both know you sit here in despair because you can’t provide for my daughter. You love her, I know that, because I was once like you, a man of no qualities.”
Edward looked at him with his teeth clenched. “No qualities?”
“Oh, it’s true,” he spat, sitting back. “You’re a sheep-farmer, boy.”
“What happened to ‘Edward’? I thought you were talking to me like an equal.”
“An equal? There will never be a day when you will be equal to me and you know it.”
“You’re wrong. I have plans.”
“I’ve heard about your plans. Privateering. Becoming a man of substance on the high seas. You don’t have it in you, Edward Kenway.”
“I do.”
“You don’t have the moral fibre. I am offering you a way out of the hole you have dug for yourself, boy; I suggest you think about it very hard.”
Edward sank the rest of his ale. “How about I think about it over another drink?”
“As you wish.”
A fresh tankard materialized on the table in front of Edward and he set to making it a thing of history, his mind reeling at the same time. Emmett Scott was right. This was the most devastating thing about the whole conversation. Emmett Scott was right. Edward loved Caroline yet could not provide for her, and if he was truly a dutiful husband, then he would accept Emmett's offer.
“She doesn’t want me to go away,” he said.
“And you want to?”
“I want for her to support my plans.”
“She never will.”
“I can but hope.”
“If she loves you as she says, she never will.”
Even in his drunken state Edward could not fault Emmett's logic. Edward knew he was right. Emmett knew he was right.
“You have made enemies, Edward Kenway. Many enemies. Some of them powerful. Why do you think those enemies haven’t taken their revenge on you?”
“They’re frightened?” There was a drunken arrogance in Edward's voice.
He scoffed. “Of course they’re not frightened. They leave you alone because of Caroline.”
“Then if I was to accept your offer, there would be nothing to stop my enemies from attacking me?”
“Nothing but my protection.”
Edward wasn’t sure about that.
Edward sank another ale. He sank deeper into despondency. Emmett was still there at the end of the night, his very presence reminding Edward how far his choices had shrunk.
When Edward tried to stand to leave, his legs almost gave way and he had to grab the side of the table just to remain on his feet. Caroline’s father, a disgusted look on his face, came to help him and before Edward knew it Emmett Scott was taking him home, though not because he wanted to see him safe but because he wanted to see to it that Caroline saw Edward in his drunken state, and indeed she did, as he rolled in, laughing. Emmett Scott puffed up, and told her, “This tosspot is a ruined man, Caroline. Unfit for life on land, much less at sea. If he goes to the West Indies, it’s you who will suffer.”
“Father . . . Father.”
She was sobbing, so upset, and then as Edward lay on the bed he saw Emmett Scott's boots move off and he was gone.
“That old muckworm,” Edward managed. “He’s wrong about me.”
“I hope it so,” she replied.
Edward let his drunken imagination carry him away. “You believe me, don’t you? Can you not see me, standing out there on the deck of a ship that is sliding into port? There I am, a man of quality . . . With a thousand doubloons spilling from my pockets like drops of rain. I can see it.”
When Edward looked at her she was shaking her head. She couldn’t see it.
When Edward sobered up the next day, neither could he.
It was only a matter of time. Edward's lack of prospects became like another person in the marriage. Edward reviewed his options: Emmett Scott offering me money in return for having his daughter back. My dreams of sailing away.
Both of them involved breaking Caroline’s heart.
[[ nfi, nfb, taken from the Black Flag novelization. tw for alcoholism. ]]
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, then turned and left the room.
---
One night Edward sat in the Livid Brews. He'd like to say he was not his usual self, as he sat with his back to the rest of the tavern hunched over his tankard, taking great big gulps in between dark thoughts and watching the level fall. Always, watching the level of his ale fall.
But the sad fact of the matter was that Edward was his usual self. That younger man, that rogue always ready with a quip and a smile, had disappeared. In his place, still a young man but one who had the cares of the world on his shoulders. It seemed like an eternity ago: running water, electric lights, a pair of mates like Anders and Nathan, the idea he could make something of himself.
On the farm Caroline helped Mother, who at first had been horrified by the idea, saying Caroline was too much of a lady to work on the farm. Caroline had just laughed and insisted. At first when Edward watched her stride across the same yard where he had first seen her sitting astride her horse, currently wearing a crisp white bonnet, work boots, a smock and apron, he’d had a proud feeling. But seeing her in work-clothes had come to be a reminder of his own failings as a man.
What made it worse somehow was that Caroline didn’t seem to mind; it was as though she was the only person in the area who did not see her current position as a descent down the social ladder. Everybody else did, and none felt it more keenly than Edward.
“Can I get you another ale?” Edward recognized the voice that came from behind him and turned to see Emmett Scott, Caroline’s father. Edward’d last seen him at the wedding, when he refused his daughter her dowry. But here he was, offering his hated son-in-law a drink. That’s the thing about the drink, though. When you’re into the drink like Edward was, when you watch the level of your ale fall and wonder where your next one is coming from, you’ll take a fresh mug from anyone. Even Emmett Scott. Edward's sworn enemy. A man who hated Edward almost as much as Edward hated him.
So Edward accepted his offer of an ale, and he bought his own, pulled up a stool, which scraped on the flag-stones as he sat down.
At that moment, talking to the hated Edward Kenway, Scott looked pained. Edward felt completely at home in the tavern, as it was an environment in which he could lose himself, but it didn’t suit Emmett at all. Every now and then he would glance over one shoulder, then the next, like he was frightened of being attacked suddenly from behind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a chance to talk,” he said. Edward made a short, scoffing laugh in reply.
“Your appearance at the wedding put paid to that, did it not?”
Of course the booze had loosened his tongue, made him brave. That and the fact that in the war to win his daughter Edward had won. Her heart, after all, belonged to him and there was no greater evidence of her devotion to Edward than the fact that she had given up so much to be with him. Even Emmett must have seen that.
“We’re both the men of the world, Edward,” he said simply, and you could see he was trying to make himself seem in charge. But Edward saw through him. Edward saw what he really was: a frightened, nasty man, browbeaten in business, who kicked downwards, who probably beat his servants and his wife, who assumed the likes of Edward ought to be bowing and scraping to him, like Edward's parents had done at the wedding. (Edward felt a sudden twinge of anger at the thought, but there was little to do about it now.)
“How about we do a deal like men of business?”
Edward took a long slug of his ale and held Emmett's eyes. “What did you have in mind, father-in-law of mine?”
Emmett's face hardened. “You walk out on her. You throw her out. Whatever you want. You set her free. Send her back to me.”
“And if I do?”
“I’ll make you a rich man.”
Edward drained the rest of his ale. Emmett nodded towards it with questioning eyes and Edward said yes, waited while he fetched another one, then drank it down, almost in one go. The room was beginning to spin.
“Well, you know what you can do with your offer, don’t you?”
“Edward,” he said, leaning forward, “you and I both know you can’t provide for my daughter. You and I both know you sit here in despair because you can’t provide for my daughter. You love her, I know that, because I was once like you, a man of no qualities.”
Edward looked at him with his teeth clenched. “No qualities?”
“Oh, it’s true,” he spat, sitting back. “You’re a sheep-farmer, boy.”
“What happened to ‘Edward’? I thought you were talking to me like an equal.”
“An equal? There will never be a day when you will be equal to me and you know it.”
“You’re wrong. I have plans.”
“I’ve heard about your plans. Privateering. Becoming a man of substance on the high seas. You don’t have it in you, Edward Kenway.”
“I do.”
“You don’t have the moral fibre. I am offering you a way out of the hole you have dug for yourself, boy; I suggest you think about it very hard.”
Edward sank the rest of his ale. “How about I think about it over another drink?”
“As you wish.”
A fresh tankard materialized on the table in front of Edward and he set to making it a thing of history, his mind reeling at the same time. Emmett Scott was right. This was the most devastating thing about the whole conversation. Emmett Scott was right. Edward loved Caroline yet could not provide for her, and if he was truly a dutiful husband, then he would accept Emmett's offer.
“She doesn’t want me to go away,” he said.
“And you want to?”
“I want for her to support my plans.”
“She never will.”
“I can but hope.”
“If she loves you as she says, she never will.”
Even in his drunken state Edward could not fault Emmett's logic. Edward knew he was right. Emmett knew he was right.
“You have made enemies, Edward Kenway. Many enemies. Some of them powerful. Why do you think those enemies haven’t taken their revenge on you?”
“They’re frightened?” There was a drunken arrogance in Edward's voice.
He scoffed. “Of course they’re not frightened. They leave you alone because of Caroline.”
“Then if I was to accept your offer, there would be nothing to stop my enemies from attacking me?”
“Nothing but my protection.”
Edward wasn’t sure about that.
Edward sank another ale. He sank deeper into despondency. Emmett was still there at the end of the night, his very presence reminding Edward how far his choices had shrunk.
When Edward tried to stand to leave, his legs almost gave way and he had to grab the side of the table just to remain on his feet. Caroline’s father, a disgusted look on his face, came to help him and before Edward knew it Emmett Scott was taking him home, though not because he wanted to see him safe but because he wanted to see to it that Caroline saw Edward in his drunken state, and indeed she did, as he rolled in, laughing. Emmett Scott puffed up, and told her, “This tosspot is a ruined man, Caroline. Unfit for life on land, much less at sea. If he goes to the West Indies, it’s you who will suffer.”
“Father . . . Father.”
She was sobbing, so upset, and then as Edward lay on the bed he saw Emmett Scott's boots move off and he was gone.
“That old muckworm,” Edward managed. “He’s wrong about me.”
“I hope it so,” she replied.
Edward let his drunken imagination carry him away. “You believe me, don’t you? Can you not see me, standing out there on the deck of a ship that is sliding into port? There I am, a man of quality . . . With a thousand doubloons spilling from my pockets like drops of rain. I can see it.”
When Edward looked at her she was shaking her head. She couldn’t see it.
When Edward sobered up the next day, neither could he.
It was only a matter of time. Edward's lack of prospects became like another person in the marriage. Edward reviewed his options: Emmett Scott offering me money in return for having his daughter back. My dreams of sailing away.
Both of them involved breaking Caroline’s heart.
[[ nfi, nfb, taken from the Black Flag novelization. tw for alcoholism. ]]