Sail Away: Hungry to Begin (1/?)
Sail Away: Hungry to Begin
Rating: PG-ish
Pairing: BSG A/R
Thanks: Sidalicious, as always.
Summary: BSG Set in Pre-Revolutionary War America
Chapter One: Hungry to Begin
Boston, Massachusetts
Governor's Residence
May 2nd, 1772
Laura Roslin committed to sailing the Atlantic in the manner which she did most things: with economy of feeling and firm resolution. Cold wasn't the word, exactly, to describe her, but there was a reason she'd reached the age of forty-two and never been married. Everyone agreed she was an attractive woman, certainly, but there was something in her eyes, encompassing and indefinable, that made one take a step back. Still, she was an excellent dinner companion, and a much-sought partner at whist, which was why Mrs. Ferguson was so discomposed when she learned of Laura's imminent departure for London.
“But, my dear, the sea is so rough and certainly you have no friends there. Ruth Adar is quite beside herself. And the little ones! Oh, it breaks my heart. Is there nothing to be done?”
“I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Ferguson, but I have already committed to a posting. There's a school for girls there, a charity institution, and they are expecting me.”
“A charity institution?” Mrs. Ferguson echoed, scandalized. “You're leaving the Governor's house, and the Adar darlings for a...a...no, I can't even bear to think it.”
Darlings, my arse, Laura thought. She'd been engaged as a governess to the Adar household for six years now and although there were many words to describe Elizabeth and Margaret Adar, “darling” wasn't one of them. Of course, she couldn't say so out loud. She wondered idly what Molly Ferguson would say if she knew the truth behind Laura's abrupt resignation. She'd be prostrated with shock, no doubt, but not before stopping at every door on the way home to discuss all the sordid details.
In fact, the resignation wasn't as abrupt as everyone believed. Laura had been looking for another posting for six months. That the placement required relocation across the Atlantic was no matter to her, though she did feel a small stab of apprehension at the necessary method of travel. She was not very fond of the sea. However, needs must dictate and Roslins did not shrink in fear.
She smiled tightly. “I'm afraid my mind is quite made up.”
Mrs. Ferguson sighed dramatically. “When are you to sail?”
“The Colonial leaves in just under a fortnight.”
“What, so soon?”
“They have an immediate need, you see, and I'm told the crossing could take up to three months. I have taken the liberty to set up interviews for replacements and will of course give my recommendation to Mrs. Adar.”
“I must resign myself to this turn of events I suppose. Tell me, what does Governor Adar make of all this?”
Laura had not moved amongst the upper crust of Boston society for the last decade without having learned a few tricks. She schooled her features quickly and met Mrs. Ferguson's penetrating and knowing gaze without flinching.
“The Governor respects my wishes.” If her tone wasn't enough to deter further questioning, the defiant look she sent the wealthy widow was.
Mrs. Ferguson sighed in capitulation and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in the expensive silk of her skirt. “Yes, well, we must have a farewell luncheon for you before your departure. I will have Cookie begin making preparations.”
Laura knew better than to argue in this matter, though the last thing she wanted was to sit amongst stuffy old matrons being questioned and lectured. Still, she figured it was a small price to pay for her eventual freedom. She'd been too long fettered to the Governor's home, to Richard himself.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Laura replied graciously through gritted teeth.
~*~
Boston Harbor
May 17th, 1772
“This is utterly ridiculous, Laura. You're doing this to hurt me.”
The years between them had made Laura immune to his unique brand of petulance, but there was a slight tug of remorse low in her belly as she watched him mop his damp brow with a handkerchief. The air was thick with humidity already, and her upper lip was dotted with small beads of sweat though the sun had only been up for just under an hour. She wouldn't miss the sweltering heat of Boston summers, but she would miss the city itself. The bustle and hurry, the glorious shops and carriage rides in the Common. It had a pulse and rhythm like something alive.
“Laura, are you listening to me?”
“We've exhausted the subject, Richard, and frankly, I've listened long enough to your promises and excuses.”
“Why, you ungrateful--”
“Ungrateful?” Laura asked in disbelief, forcing out a short humorless laugh. “You installed me in your home as a servant, answering the whims of your witless wife and spoiled children, so I could be just down the hall when you were feeling...amorous, and you think I owe you something?”
“Of course that's not what I meant, darling,” Richard said quietly as he grasped her hand. “Forgive me, please. I'm not myself lately.”
His slid his clammy palm against hers and she fought the urge to shake him off. Up close, the lines of worry etched around his eyes and mouth were unmistakable and she wondered when he'd gotten so old.
She sighed and touched his cheek wistfully before gently disengaging their fingers.
“I have to go, Richard.”
“But...but, I love you.”
She clutched her reticule tightly and fought a wave of anguish. She'd loved this man for more than half her life, since he was a student at her father's school, awkwardly reciting Greek and Latin. There'd been talk of marriage at one point, but his family hadn't approved and he'd been too weak, and too ambitious, to defy them. Still, Laura had spent years waiting for him, following him, sacrificing her own dreams and desires to please him. And in return, he'd given her absolutely nothing.
Laura climbed from the carriage and slammed the door in disgust. “Goodbye, Governor. I wish you success and every happiness,” Laura said formally for the benefit of the driver who was unloading her trunk and small valise.
“Miss Roslin,” Richard began, only to be cut off by the driver's shrill whistle. Within seconds, a barefoot boy skid to a halt in front of her.
“Lady's bound for The Colonial. Take care with her belongings and see you hand her off to the Captain,” the driver directed gruffly as the boy loaded everything onto a small cart.
“Laura! Be careful!” Richard called to her retreating back, but his words were lost in the cacophony of the harbor.
~*~
The Colonial
July 22nd 1772
The Atlantic Ocean
47W 36N
As Laura expelled the last of her light breakfast over the side of the ship, she vowed never to sail again. Despite the promises of Captain Jameson, Laura had never gained her sea legs and spent most of the journey prostrate on her bunk in the cabin she shared with a missionary woman and her daughter. She only came above deck when bullied and prodded by the aforementioned missionary woman, Mrs. McAllistair, and only briefly.
“My dear, that weak constitution will never do. You must persevere.”
As Laura wiped the corners of her mouth, she glared weakly at her tormentor. Mrs. McAllistair seemed to take her seasickness personally. “I assure you, ma'am, that it is not simply a case of mind over matter.”
“Look at my own Lily. Have you ever seen a more slight and fragile creature? I do confess I worried for her prior to setting out, but she has taken to the sea quite magnificently.”
If ever there was a mother blinded by love, she bore the name Constance McAllistair. Lily was a hardy, solid woman of about twenty-nine who had taken more to the sailors than she had to the sea. The attraction wasn't one sided, either, though it had more to do with the general scarcity of women than any characteristics, physical or otherwise, Lily possessed. Laura found her vapid and silly and tried to avoid her at all costs.
“Mmm,” Laura answered noncommittally, clamping her jaw tightly against the traitorous heaving in her abdomen. Before she could make her excuses and head back to the relative safety of her cabin, there was sudden scrambling activity across the deck and shouting amongst the crew.
“Mama! Mama!” Lily appeared before them moments later, breathless and wide-eyed. “They've spotted a British Gunner and they're signaling their intention to board. Come on!” Lily grabbed her mother's hand and pulled her away.
Laura watched them fight against the surging crowd but had no desire to follow. The trembling in her knees would've prevented her from joining them even if she'd wanted to, anyway. She stood clinging to the rail for what seemed like hours before she felt a fleeting touch against her elbow.
“Pardon my forwardness, ma'am, but I was enlisted by Captain Jameson to escort all ladies below decks.”
Laura met the earnest gaze of the young man she vaguely remembered meeting upon boarding. He'd been polite and erudite on the subject of sailing, but his companion, a vulgar fair-haired woman around her own age, had dismissed her immediately upon taking in her plain gray serge gown. She was nowhere in sight now for which Laura was intensely grateful considering the state of her wrinkled gown and unbound hair.
“Mr...”
“Adama, Lee Adama.”
“Yes, forgive me, Mr. Adama. Is the Captain expecting trouble?”
“I think considering the political climate lately, he's being cautious.”
Working in the Governor's house, Laura was aware of the press gangs that traversed the seas, and the occasional unauthorized requisitioning of goods from legal trading vessels by the Royal Navy. The past year had been especially trying for Richard, who'd spent many a sleepless night composing unanswered letters of complaint to the parliament, drowning himself in port and brandy.
“I see. If it isn't too much trouble, I'd prefer to remain where I am for the time being.”
It was apparent from the myriad of emotions passing over the young man's face that he wasn't accustomed to being rebuked, but politeness won out and he bowed briefly. “As you wish.”
She had no way of knowing that this decision would save her life.
TBC...