#Royal Indian Navy

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Hardy Women Warriors Inherit Skill, Stamina of Ancestors," Toronto Star. October 30, 1943. Page 2. --- ADVANTAGE of inherited ability is held by Private Minnie Spotted Wolf, when she picks up a bow and arrow on the archery range at the New River, N.C., army camp.

OF A SEAFARING RACE, these Norwegian "Wrens" were right at home during recent exercises taken aboard the destroyer Glaisdale, and none complained of sea-sickness.

[clove-pinks]

I am on the NMM website a lot, and while looking for something else I came across this portrait of Captain William Peel again.

I have The Sea Beast fresh in my mind with its theme of empire demanding/glorifying heroic sacrifice, and it hits a bit differently. I have seen this painting presented as the ne plus ultra of imperialism: the naval officer with his sword, illuminated in a tropical scene and leading troops to crush a rebellion of the colonised people; he is literally holding a pith helmet. At least the superior first edition of Amy Miller's Dressed to Kill has commentary on this portrait.

But it's a posthumous portrait.

Captain Peel wasn't basking in adulation when this was made, wasn't enjoying the acclaim of his Victoria Cross: he was dead. He has a magnificent statue as well, even more dashing than the portrait, and surely his powerful family had a lot to do with memorialising him—but he still died. He didn't make it home to the metropole.

[bookloversofbath]

The Royal Navy: A History from the Earliest Times to the Death of Queen Victoria :: William Laird Clowes

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

WEEWOO IM HERE FOR THE EVENT!! (also smth I noticed, you can't copy paste your moots @ from one post to another, bc they don't receive the notif;_; I checked my mentions for your @ and uh- nope)

ANYWAY "nights spent in" with Leona pls (or Ruggie or Kalim or Jack or Jamil 💀💀) I just want a lazy night with takeout and cuddles and looking at the city/town from the hotel or room balcony in peace but I also need this frigging degree-

Nights Spent In; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, so much fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I came up with a whole meal for this and I want everything. All of the food mentioned is North Indian vegetarian food, except for Leona's. Best of luck with that degree, Soru!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were lounging on the sofa on the balcony, a light breeze coming off the waves helping cut most of the heat from the day as night slowly painted the sky in a deep navy. Honestly, you could fall asleep right here, since you were warm and very comfy. Count on the royal family of the Sunset Savannah to spare no expense, even when it came to their balcony furniture for the smallest of their vacation homes. 

Speaking of the Kingscholars, Leona had said that he was going out to grab you both dinner, which would have shocked anyone else, but he put in the work when it came to you. You were the exception. Of course, though, he expected something in return, which was usually either using you as his pillow or giving him a kiss… or several until he was satisfied with how fast he could make your heart flutter. Smug bastard…

“Hmm, I went through all the trouble of gettin’ you food and here you are nearly passed out,” he sighed, having sneaked up on you. But he sighed, putting the food down.

Leona leisurely walked over to you before promptly laying on top of you and resting his chin on your shoulder, trapping you. He let out a long sigh and bumped his head against yours.

Taking the message, you started scratching behind his ears and hummed. “I thought I had to pay you back after we ate,” you mused.

He chuffed, but his tail was slowly waving back and forth in a relaxed manner, he was only putting on a show. “You can pay me now and then,” he grumbled, looking up at you and raising a brow expectantly.

You knew that face, it was the face that he made when he wanted a kiss but didn’t want to say it. “You can get the rest of it, but after we eat-” your stomach made a low rumble underscoring your statement. “Before I decide to eat you instead,” you joked, and poked him in the ribs to prompt him to get off you.

Leona rolled his eyes, but yielded, he wanted his damn kisses sooner rather than later. Plus the last time he had decided to lay on you and prevent you from getting food, you had indeed bit him. Even though you didn’t really leave a mark, it still stung a bit, and he would rather not get teased by the others if they found out it had happened again.

“What did you get by the way,” you asked. Whatever it was smelled divine. Your stomach gurgled even louder, sounding more akin to some beast demanding food.

Leona chuckled a bit at the commotion, but brought the food out. “Went to a small place, family run and owned,” and he brought out several containers of food. He looked at his order, “Malai kofta, raita, paratha, mattar paneer-”

You saw one other container and raised a brow.

“Rogan josh,” he answered, swiping the container away from you.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you were more than happy at the food he had got, and knew that he left a hefty tip even though he would deny it. Not only had he made you, and your ravenous stomach’s, night, but also the restaurant owners’ as well. 

Now content and full of food, the both of you laid in bed, your legs intertwined. “Thanks for getting dinner,” you hummed, feeling the sleepiness from earlier returning.

Leona turned his head to you, and rubbed circles on your hip, slowly. He was wearing the same expectant look again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” But there was no smugness, Leona was full and just as tired as you, so he was more like a tired kitty looking for some love.

You shuffled over and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he let out a tired sigh, pupils dilating into round saucers. “I love you,” you placed another kiss on his lips before placing one on his scar and lingering there.

He bumped his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know… I love you too.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii @leonistic

[fatehbaz]

when the Empire's researchers realized that the cause of the ecological devastation was the Empire:

much to consider.

on the motives and origins of some forms of imperial "environmentalism".

---

Since the material resources of colonies were vital to the metropolitan centers of empire, some of the earliest conservation practices were established outside of Europe [but established for the purpose of protecting the natural resources desired by metropolitan Europe]. [...] [T]ropical island colonies were crucial laboratories of empire, as garden incubators for the transplantation of peoples [slaves, laborers] and plants [cash crops] and for generating the European revival of Edenic discourse. Eighteenth-century environmentalism derived from colonial island contexts in which limited space and an ideological model of utopia contributed to new models of conservation [...]. [T]ropical island colonies were at the vanguard of establishing forest reserves and environmental legislation [...]. These forest reserves, like those established in New England and South Africa, did not necessarily represent "an atavistic interest in preserving the 'natural' [...]" but rather a "more manipulative and power-conscious interest in constructing a new landscape by planting trees [in monoculture or otherwise modified plantations] [...]."

Text by: Elizabeth DeLoughrey and George B. Handley. "Introduction: Toward an Aesthetics of the Earth". Postcolonial Ecologies: Literatures of the Environment, edited by DeLoughrey and Handley. 2011. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.]

---

British colonial forestry was arguably one of the most extensive imperial frameworks of scientific natural resource management anywhere [...]. [T]he roots of conservation [...] lay in the role played by scientific communities in the colonial periphery [...]. In India, [...] in 1805 [...] the court of directors of the East India Company sent a dispatch enquiring [...] [about] the Royal Navy [and its potential use of wood from Malabar's forests] [...]. This enquiry led to the appointment of a forest committee which reported that extensive deforestation had taken place and recommended the protection of the Malabar forests on grounds that they were valuable property. [...] [T]o step up the extraction of teak to augment the strength of the Royal Navy [...] [b]etween 1806 and 1823, the forests of Malabar were protected by means of this monopoly [...]. The history of British colonial forestry, however, took a decisive turn in the post-1860 period [...]. Following the revolt of 1857, the government of India sought to pursue active interventionist policies [...]. Experts were deployed as 'scientific soldiers' and new agencies established. [...] The paradigm [...] was articulated explicitly in the first conference [Empire Forestry Conference] by R.S. Troup, a former Indian forest service officer and then the professor of forestry at Oxford. Troup began by sketching a linear model of the development of human relationship with forests, arguing that the human-forest interaction in civilized societies usually went through three distinct phases - destruction, conservation, and economic management. Conservation was a ‘wise and necessary measure’ but it was ‘only a stage towards the problem of how best to utilise the forest resources of the empire’. The ultimate ideal was economic management, [...] to exploit 'to the full [...]' and provide regular supplies [...] to industry.

Text by: Ravi Rajan. "Modernizing Nature: Tropical Forestry and the Contested Legacy of British Colonial Eco-Development, 1800-2000". Oxford Historical Monographs series, Oxford University Press. January 2006.

---

It is no accident that the earliest writers to comment specifically on rapid environmental change in the context of empires were scientists who were themselves often actors in the process of colonially stimulated environmental change. [...] [N]atural philosophers [...] in Bermuda, [...] in Barbados and [...] on St Helena [all British colonies] were all already well aware of characteristically high rates of soil erosion and deforestation in the colonial tropics [...]. On St Helena and Bermuda this early conservationism led, by 1715, to the gazetting of the first colonial forest reserves and forest protection laws. On French colonial Mauritius [...], Poivre and Philibert Commerson framed pioneering forest conservation [...] in the 1760s. In India William Roxburgh [and] Edward Balfour [...] ([...] Scottish medical scientists) wrote alarmist narratives relating [to] deforestation [...]. East India Company scientists [...] [including] Roxburgh [...] went on to further observe the incidence of global drought events [...]. The writings of Edward Balfour and Hugh Cleghorn in the late 1840s in particular illustrate the extent of the permeation of a global environmental consciousness [...]. [T]he 1860s [were] a period [...] which embodies a convergence of thinking about ecological change on a world scale [...]. It was in the particular circumstances of environmental change at the colonial periphery that what we would now term "environmentalism" first made itself felt [...]. Victorian texts such as [...] Ribbentrop's Forestry in the British Empire, Brown's Hydrology of South Africa, Cleghorn's Forests and Gardens of South India [...] were [...] vital to the onset of environmentalism [...]. This fear grew steadily in the wake of colonial expansion [...] particularly [...] after the great Indian famines of 1876 [...].

Text by: Richard Grove and Vinita Damodaran. "Imperialism, Intellectual Networks, and Environmental Change: Origins and Evolution of Global Environmental History, 1676-2000: Part I". Economic and Political Weekly Vol. 41, No. 41. 14 October 2006

---

The “planetary consciousness” produced by this systemizing of nature [in eighteenth-century European science] […] increased the mobility of paradise discourse [...]. As European colonial expansion accelerated, the homogenizing transformation of people, economy and nature which it catalyzed also gave rise to a myth of lost paradise, which served as a register […] for obliterated cultures, peoples, and environments [devastated by that same European colonization], and as a measure of the rapid ecological changes, frequently deforestation and desiccation, generated by colonizing capital. On one hand, this myth served to suppress dissent by submerging it in melancholy, but on the other, it promoted the emergence of an imperialist environmental critique which would motivate the later establishment of colonial botanical gardens, potential Edens in which nature could be re-made. However, the subversive potential of the “green” critique voiced through the myth of endangered paradise was defused by the extent to which growing environmental sensibilities enabled imperialism to function more efficiently by appropriating botanical knowledge and indigenous conservation methods, thus continuing to serve the purposes of European capital.

Text by: Sharae Deckard. Paradise Discourse, Imperialism, and Globalization: Exploiting Eden. 2010.

[ltwilliammowett]

The East India Company ships

The East and West India Company ships were not ship types in the usual sense. They were generic terms for a series of merchant ship types that travelled between Europe and the overseas colonies in the East and West. Common features of these ships were three masts, several cannons and a high bulwark to make it more difficult for attackers to board them. Their valuable cargo made the ships attractive targets, so they often travelled in convoys, accompanied by medium-armed merchant ships or frigates for protection. But let's go into more detail.

The East Indiaman 'Earl of Abergavenny', off Southsea, by Thomas Luny 1801

The ships of the East India Company were the ships of the English East India Company, a public limited company (shipowners at the early time of the East India Company contributed their ships to the company and received a certain share in the company in return. They received a proportionate share of the company's overall profits and received a dividend even if their own ship was lost, since the 18th century the company build their own ones as well.) which traded with Asia from 1600 to 1834. The company had a monopoly on trade with the East Indies, China and other regions, and its ships carried goods such as spices, tea, silk, cotton, porcelain and opium. The company also played an important role in the colonisation and administration of India and other territories.

East India Company ships at Deptford, by English School, c. 1660

The ships of the East India Company were known as East Indiamen or as Indiamen and were among the largest and most modern of their time. They were designed to withstand long voyages, carry heavy cargoes and defend themselves against pirates and enemy ships. They were also equipped with cannons and muskets and had a crew of sailors, soldiers, officers and passengers. Because of the need to carry heavy cannons, the hull of the East Indiamen - like most warships of the time - was much wider at the waterline than on the upper deck, so the guns on the upper deck were closer to the centreline to increase stability. This is known as a tumblehome. The ships usually had two complete decks for accommodation within the hull and a raised aft deck. The aft deck and the deck below were lit by galleries with square windows at the stern. To support the weight of the galleries, the hull lines were full towards the stern. As mentioned above, the ships were armed and painted to look like a warship and an attacker could not be sure if the embrasures were real or just painted, and some Indiamen carried a substantial armament.

Two views of an East Indiaman of the time of King William III, by Issac Sailmaker, 1685

The Royal Navy acquired several East Indiamen during the Napoleonic Wars and made them fourth rate ships (e.g. HMS Weymouth and HMS Madras), perpetuating the confusion of military ships with merchant vessels as prizes. In some cases, the East Indiamen successfully fended off attacks by the French. One of the most famous incidents occurred in 1804 when a fleet of East India ships and other merchant vessels under Commodore Nathaniel Dance successfully fought off a squadron commanded by Admiral Linois at the Battle of Pulo Aura in the Indian Ocean. And during this time, some of the ships were even travelling under the protection of a Letter of Marque, which allowed them to make their own prizes.

The East Indiaman 'Prince of Wales' disembarking troops off Gravesend, 1845, by John Lynn, 1845 or later - She was built by Green's of Blackwall in 1842 to a design known as that of the "Blackwall Frigates" - Indiamen with the single-decked appearance of frigates.

The ships of the India Companies were not only involved in trade, but also in exploration, diplomacy, warfare and scientific research. They visited many harbours and islands, built factories and forts, fought in battles and wars, negotiated treaties and alliances and collected samples and data. With the advent of the smaller and faster Blackwall Frigates in 1834 came the end of the great Indiamen as these small frigates sailed much faster.

[whencyclopedia]

The Golden Age of Piracy (1690-1730) refers to a period when robbery on the high seas and at colonial ports reached an unprecedented level. Although not all historians agree on the precise time frame, it is generally applied to those pirates who operated in the Caribbean, the east coast of America, the eastern Atlantic, and the Indian Ocean. Infamous names associated with the period include Captain Kidd (d. 1701), Blackbeard (d. 1718), and Bartholomew Roberts (d. 1722). These men, and some women like Anne Bonny and Mary Read, targetted merchant shipping and, much more rarely, well-armed treasure ships. The period ended when the Royal Navy, the British East India Company, and colonial governors took a much more active and aggressive stance against piracy, resulting in the capture and public hanging of hundreds of pirates from London to the Carolinas.

[glamnessaaumisc]

Pirates Ramblings

The Pirates of the Caribbean universe would be so much funnier if the British won in At World's End because then Davy Jones would just work for the British forever and the list of shit to do with Davy Jones in the Royal Navy is near-endless. Like he'd totally be involved in a bunch of major naval battles because the Flying Dutchman is invincible. He'd definitely fight in the Napoleonic Wars, the World Wars, the Opium Wars, among others. But Davy Jones would also get quite bored during peacetime so the navy would probably assign him to hunt pirates in the Indian Ocean or something.

You may be thinking, "If Britain has an invincible ship and an immortal crew on it's side, surely they'd win the American Revolution, right?" Wrong. America would still win because if the British asked Jones and his crew to sacrifice their once-in-a-decade chance to be on land just to fight Washington, they'd probably just say "Screw you!" and hang out at a bar in Massachusetts instead.

Come the late 19th century, the Dutchman would need some retrofitting to remain effective so they'd turn it into like a destroyer or something, but it would be tough to renovate it due to the fact that they have to coax Bootstrap and that other guy out of the walls, as well as Jones' demand that they don't dismantle his organ.

Davy Jones would probably end the Russo-Japanese War early because the Second Russian Pacific Squadron would fire on the Dutchman thinking it's a Japanese torpedo boat and Jones would overreact accordingly.

Davy Jones would probably get notified when the Royal Navy updates their uniforms and be sent a new uniform but he wouldn't wear it until it's sufficiently barnacle'd.

In the 1930's Davy Jones would probably come across Amelia Earhart stranded on an island or something. He'd heard about this woman in the newspapers and the radios, so he'd sail close to the island and yell through a megaphone "MISSES EARHART I'M A BIG FAN-AH DO YOU FEAR DEATH?" Bonus points if she agrees to join him and her Dutchmansona (for lack of a better term) involves coconut crabs in some way.

At some point the Spanish would get a similar idea and fish Salazar out of wherever the fuck they left him (I don't remember shit from that movie) and he and Davy Jones would have beef over who's the better supernatural sea captain.

Fast forward to the modern day, Davy Jones would still be active, probably hunting Somali pirates or something. He'd definitely get cancelled on social media for one thing or another.

There's probably a whole lot of other goofy ahh scenarios that would happen but these are the only ones I can think of at present.

[canadianabroadvery]

The Sentinelese people, residing on North Sentinel Island in the Indian Ocean, have inhabited the island for an estimated 60,000 years. Their population ranges from about 80 to 150 individuals, and they maintain a hunter-gatherer lifestyle reminiscent of the Stone Age, devoid of agricultural practices. Numerous attempts to contact this tribe from the outside world have resulted in vehement hostility.

In 1771, an East India Company ship observed numerous lights on the shores of North Sentinel Island but refrained from investigating. In 1867, an Indian merchant ship was compelled to land on the island due to severe monsoons, prompting an attack by the islanders with arrows. The crew managed to defend themselves with rudimentary weapons until the Royal Navy came to their rescue.

In 1880, the British revisited the island and discovered an abandoned village inland. They kidnapped six Sentinelese individuals, all of whom fell ill upon exposure to the outside world. In 1896, an escaped convict reached the island, only to be found dead with arrows and a slit throat.

In 2018, an American Christian missionary ventured to the island with the intent of converting the indigenous people. Despite warning shots and attempts to communicate, he was tragically killed by arrows, and his body remains unrecovered on the island.

Mario Zadra

[captain-price-unofficially]

A rating of the Royal Indian Navy stands at attention while holding a SMLE, 1945.

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 2

We are back with a new chapter!! Y'all!!!!! I am BLOWN AWAY by your enthusiasm for this fic!!!! Thank you all so very VERY much!!!! I hope you enjoy this new chapter and let me know what you think!!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 for her beta services and to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for listening to me whine. And I can't forget @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork she did for the fic!!! Thank you all, ladies!!!

Chapter summary: Four years after Liam's death and Killian runs away to India, Emma and Killian both arrive in London for the new social season.

Words: Approx 7800 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chs.

On ao3 Current ch / From the beginning

On Tumblr Prologue

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

4yrs. later

It had been too long. Killian knew that. Four years in India. But, according to the letters his mother religiously sent, everything was fine back home. Emma excelled in the running of the earldom, so there was nothing to feel guilty about for staying away so long. 

But he couldn’t stay away forever. When he’d come to India four years before - oh, hell, let’s be honest. When he’d run away to India four years before - it was with no more purpose than to get away from Emma. He couldn’t be near her. With her complete ignorance of his feelings for her, it wasn’t necessarily better for him to put eight thousand miles between them, but it was certainly easier. But once he arrived, to his great surprise, he found another purpose. He could see now why Liam had taken his seat in Parliament so seriously. When he arrived four years ago, he’d only had a name of a Royal Navy buddy who’d moved to Madras three years earlier. But within a month, he’d been appointed to a governmental post and was making decisions that actually mattered. It had given him a new purpose and a new outlook on life. Of course, it did nothing to curb his rakish tendencies, but over the years it had given him a sense of balance. It had given him time to actually make something of himself. And now… now that he was used to being addressed as Kilmartin - without looking over his shoulder for his beloved brother - it was time to actually return home and take up the duties of the earl.

He’d have to face her, of course. Maybe four years was enough time away from her that his heart could handle the rigors of being in close proximity with the one he loved. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he no longer loved her. He was quite sure he’d love her until the day he departed this earth. But maybe now - with the grief no longer so raw - maybe now he could be Emma’s friend, as she so ardently desired in those dark days after Liam’s death. 

Either way, he was glad it would be March when he disembarked. Too early for Emma to have arrived in London for the season. Because honestly, there was truly nothing more frightening - not war, not an Indian tiger - than facing Emma Nolan Jones.

Decision made, he instructed a quite relieved Smee to book them passage on the Princess Amelia. He was going home.

~*~*~

Emma wanted a baby.

It wasn’t a new desire, but it had rather snuck up on her and it was only now that she could actually say it… out loud… to herself. Or not exactly say it, but at least think it… out loud… to herself. In a manner of speaking. Pun not intended.

It had begun innocently enough. A pang in her heart when she read a missive from her sister-in-law Mary Margaret, married to her eldest brother David, telling her all about their son, Leo’s latest escapades. He was nearly three and already giving them fits.

Then when her elder sister, Regina, descended upon Kilmartin Estate in Scotland with her brood of three - Richard age eight, Roland age five, and little Rebekah only eighteen months - she’d been amazed at how the Locksley children transformed Kilmartin. There was noise, and laughter, that had been sorely lacking for years. Likely since Liam and Killian were boys.

When they left, it was quiet. Not peaceful. Just silent. 

And Emma was changed.

Now, when she saw a nursemaid pushing a pram, her heart ached. If she saw a rabbit cross a path, she missed a small someone beside her to point it out to. When she visited her family in London, and all her nieces and nephews finally left for the evening, she lay in her bed and realized that if she didn’t do something to change it, her life never would change. She’d live this life and eventually die. 

Alone. 

Not unhappy - her life was far too full and enjoyable for that - but alone. In the four years that Liam and Killian had been gone, she’d grown into her role as Countess Kilmartin, the sole caretaker of the holdings and land. Killian had never married after leaving for India, so she had retained all her duties as Countess. He’d left instructions for her to run the earldom as she saw fit and hadn’t interfered since. It was a precious gift that Killian had given her. She realized that now, even if it took her a long time to forgive him for leaving her in the first place. It gave her a purpose. A goal. A reason to stop staring at the ceiling. 

She had friends and a wonderful family, both the Nolan and Jones sides, but the only thing missing, the one thing that would make her truly happy, was a baby. Which meant, of course, that she’d have to remarry. 

Emma sighed as she considered it. It seemed a bit strange to imagine herself married to anyone but Liam. Potentially bearing a child that wouldn’t look like him. But if she wanted a baby, there was really no way around it. Even four years later, her wardrobe still consisted mostly of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. She was going to need a whole new wardrobe for the approaching season if she was going to put herself on the marriage mart. She’d buy green, to match her eyes. She’d buy blue, pink, and yellow, her favorite color. She might even buy - she shivered in anticipation just thinking about it - red.

The decision was made. She’d go down to London a month early and prepare to find herself a husband.

And that was that.

~*~*~

It was absolutely frigid. And it was entirely her fault. She’d forgotten to send notice that she’d be arriving early for the London season, so when she arrived at Kilmartin House, she found only the skeleton crew of staff and the stores of coal and candles perilously low.

She’d been assured that all would be rectified on the morrow, once the housekeeper and butler made a mad dash to Bond St, but for now, she shivered under the blankets on her bed. The housekeeper had offered to collect all the coal she could find for Emma’s bedchamber, but Countess or no, she wasn’t so high and mighty that she’d condemn the staff to a freezing night just so she could be comfortable. And anyway, the room was so large, it was always difficult to heat properly unless the rest of the house was warm as well.

The library. The library was small enough and with the door closed, a fire in the grate would keep the room quite cozy indeed. Plus there was a small settee she could lay on. She climbed out of bed and wrapped her robe around herself before peeking out into the quiet hallway. 

She tiptoed down the hall and then the stairs, the heavy wool socks she wore slipping on the polished surface. She opened the door to the library and stifled a scream. A man stood in front of a cheery fire, warming his hands. Her head darted left and right, searching for anything she might use as a weapon when the man turned. Emma gasped.

“Killian?”

~*~*~

He hadn’t known she was in London. He hadn’t even considered she might be in London. Dammit, what was she doing in London? Not that it would have made any difference in whether he came back or not, but he at least might have been prepared. Prepared to be the charming and irredeemable rake she knew him to be.

But no. Here he was just gaping at her, trying desperately not to notice she wore nothing more than a sheer red gown and night robe, where he could just see the outline of the curve of her… don’t look, Don’t Look, DON’T LOOK…

“Killian?” she asked again.

“Emma,” he greeted, because he had to say something, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she asked, her whisper a bit more strident this time. “What are you doing here? I’m not the one supposed to be in India.”

Killian shrugged as casually as he could manage it and turned back to the fire. “Thought it was time to come home, was all.”

“Couldn’t you have written? Informing us you were coming?”

He raised an eyebrow sardonically before he replied. “To you?” It was a direct hit and he knew it. He only felt a little dismayed at her hard swallow of guilt. He’d written to her a few times after he left for India, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to reply, he maintained his correspondence through his mother.

“To anyone.” Her whisper was hushed now and Killian brushed aside the guilt her quiet accusation engendered. “We could have had the house ready for you.”

He shrugged again. “It’s ready enough.”

“Someone could have been here to meet you.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the corner of his lips. “You’re here.”

She huffed indignantly. “You still could have written. It’s only courteous.”

“Emma,” he said, exasperated. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a letter to get here from India?”

“Five months,” she answered, promptly. “Four, with favorable winds.”

“By the time I decided to come, it wouldn’t have done any good. The letter would have gone out on the same ship I was on.” He paused for a moment. “And does it really matter?”

Now it was Emma’s turn to shrug. “I suppose not.” She smiled gently at him and that damned place behind his ear itched. “It is good to have you back. Your mother will be thrilled.” He turned back to the fire, the better to hide the grim smile on his face.

“Yes,” he murmured, “I’m sure she will be.”

“As am I-I,” she stammered, “of course.”

She didn’t really sound as if she meant her words, but he decided to be a gentleman and not point it out. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, instead.

“No,” she said quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

“You’re lying.”

She shrugged and looked sheepish. “Maybe?”

“For heaven's sake, Emma. If you’re cold, come warm yourself by the fire. I won’t bite.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, in a move to put him firmly back on the solid ground of their relationship four years ago. “Unless you ask me to.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she approached and Killian’s smile became more genuine. After a few moments of companionable silence, Emma spoke.

“You look well.”

“As do you.”

“It’s been a long time.”

He sighed before replying. “It has. Four years.”

He sounded sad to her ears. Regretful almost. Perhaps he was sorry he’d stayed away so long. Perhaps he’d missed her… home, rather. But she couldn’t ask him. Not now. Not here. Not with this tension between them. When they’d parted badly four years ago, they’d both been wounded animals, lashing out at those closest to them, but she had hoped that seeing him again would be easier than this. She’d certainly imagined it enough times. He couldn’t stay away forever. She’d always known there would come a day when he returned, and the reality of what she was experiencing now was the furthest from what she expected when he did. She wanted nothing more than her best friend back.

“So what are your plans?” she asked.

“Beyond getting warm?” he muttered.

She couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. “It is indeed chilly for this time of year.”

“I came home because I couldn’t stand the blasted heat anymore,” he said. “And here I am about to perish from the cold.”

“But it will be spring soon,” she tried to placate him.

“Ah, yes,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Where the winds will merely be frigid instead of icy.”

She turned to look at him then. The light from the fire danced across his visage, creating shadows that made his features difficult to decipher. But this close to him, she could see that he had changed, however subtly. He was deeply tanned, of course, scandalously so, and the hair at his temples had just a touch of silver. But beyond that, he held himself differently. The smooth, effortless grace with which he moved was gone and now he seemed rigid. Tight. Like he was preparing himself for a blow.

The corner of her lips twisted into a smirk. “I suppose so. But Miss Blue has assured me the house will be restocked tomorrow. I only just arrived this evening as well, after failing to give notice.”

They were quiet for a few more moments. “So what are you doing here?” he asked again.

She turned to him, surprised. But then realized she’d never answered his initial question.

“I live here.”

“But you don’t usually come down until April.” Her jaw dropped and he realized he’d need to explain how he knew that information. “Mother’s letters were remarkably detailed.”

“I see.” She moved closer to the fire and Killian sighed in agitation. She really didn’t need to be standing so close to him.

“Soooo?” he repeated.

She turned to him again, shocked to see how very close they were now standing. She pulled her robe more closely around herself and took a step away. She wasn’t ready to share her true reasons for coming to London early. Goodness, she’d only just recently admitted them to herself. But he was waiting and she couldn’t just let the question linger between them.

“I felt like it,” she said with a shrug, and with as much haughtiness as she could muster. 

Killian nodded. He was glad she’d stepped away from him, however small the step might be. She was now out of his reach, and that was a very good thing. She was going to have to be the one to establish their boundaries, because there was no way he’d be up to the task. 

They were silent for a few more minutes in front of the grate before he excused himself and adjourned to his bedchamber.

Once he was cocooned in more blankets than he’d ever remembered needing before, sleep was elusive. She was different, he realized. Not in her appearance. She hadn’t changed at all. She was still his beautiful Emma with eyes as green as the jungles of India, porcelain skin, and golden hair that seemed to capture what little sunshine England saw in a year. But inside, she was changed. Killian had always prided himself on being able to read Emma like an open book, and what he saw in her now terrified him.

There was an air of availability surrounding her, as if she had truly moved on from his brother. And the only thing keeping him from reaching out right now and touching her was the physical distance between them and his own conscience.

Four years was obviously not enough time away from Emma for his heart to handle being this close to her again. And he had no idea what he was to do with that knowledge. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

~*~*~

The next morning, when Killian finally arose, the house was fully back in order, as befit the home of an earl. There was a fire in every grate and a splendid proper English breakfast was prepared - coddled eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, toast with butter and marmalade, as well as his personal favorite, boiled mackerel. Even if it did make him realize he missed the yogurts and dosas of his Indian morning meal. 

Emma was nowhere to be seen and he realized why when he opened the folded note handed to him by Smee as he sat down to eat. Concerned about the wagging tongues of the ton, Emma had removed herself to her mother’s house at 5 Bruton St, until such time as Alice Jones arrived from Scotland. She did invite him to visit her there, as there was much for them to discuss.

As soon as he finished his quite excellent breakfast, he walked to the dowager viscountess’ house. It felt good to reacquaint himself with the rhythm of London - the sights of the city, the smells of roasted nuts and soot in the air, the sounds of his boots on the street, the shouts of the flower sellers, the clip clop of horses hooves. It was strange, but no more strange than when he’d first arrived in India. It all wove together in a symphony that was uniquely London. It was going to take some getting used to. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of a shop along the way. The tan he now sported would take weeks to fade. Maybe months. His mother would be positively scandalized. The thought made a cheeky smirk bloom across his face. He was quite sure he’d never outgrow the enjoyment of scandalizing his mother.

He arrived at Number 5 and climbed the steps to the front door. He was obviously expected because he hadn’t even the chance to rap on the door before it swung open. The dowager viscountess was already in her receiving room, pouring herself tea when he entered the room.

“Killian!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair beneath the window. “How wonderful to see you in London again!”

She greeted him with all the affection she would shower on a wayward son, which, given her very wide definition of “family”, was not at all unexpected. She considered Liam a son, and since he was his brother and such a frequent companion to Liam and Emma, Killian was automatically invited to anything they were invited to. Which, of course, was everything. He took her outstretched hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

“Lady Nolan,” he murmured.

She smiled as if she knew all the secrets in the world, and couldn’t wait to share them. “No one does that the way you do,” she said, approvingly.

“One must always take care to practice one’s maneuvers,” he replied, rakish smirk set upon his lips. 

“And I can’t tell you how we ladies of a certain age appreciate you doing so.”

His grin widened. “A certain age being… one and thirty?”

Lady Nolan was the sort of woman who only grew lovelier with age, but the smile she graced him with now made her positively radiant. “You are always welcome in this house, Killian Jones.” His smile turned genuine as he took his seat. “Oh, dear,” she continued, “I do apologize. I suppose I should call you Kilmartin now.”

“Killian is just fine,” he assured her.

“I know it's been four years, but since I haven’t seen you…”

“You may call me anything you wish.” It was strange, and not exactly pleasant, to hear his title on Lady Nolan’s lips. He’d finally become used to it down in India, but here, it was rather unnerving. He didn’t mean to interrupt her, but he truly didn’t want to hear his title coming out of her mouth. 

If she was aware of his discomfort with the conversation, she gave no indication. “Well, if you are to be so accommodating, then I must be as well. Please call me Ruth.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” he began. And he meant it. This was Lady Nolan, and he could never call her by her Christian name.

“I insist, Killian,” she said, “and I’m sure you’re aware that I almost always get my way.”

He sighed, very much aware of the veracity of that statement. “I don’t know that I could kiss the hand of a Ruth. It seems scandalously intimate.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Tongues will wag,” he tried again.

“I’m certain my reputation could withstand it.”

“Ah, but could mine?” he asked.

“You are a scoundrel,” she laughed.

He sat back in his chair, a smile on his face. “It serves me well.”

“Would you care for tea?” she asked, motioning to the pot she’d just been about to pour when he arrived. “Mine has gone cold, I’m sure, but I’ll gladly ring for more.”

“I’d love some.”

She pulled the rope, summoning the butler. “I’m sure you’re spoiled for it now, after four years of tea in India.”

“There’s nothing quite like English tea,” he assured her.

“The quality of the water, do you think?” she asked.

“The quality of the woman pouring,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

She laughed, delightedly. “Oh, my lord, you need a wife. Immediately.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Because you are clearly a danger to every unmarried woman in England.”

“I do hope you are including yourself in that number,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

“Are you flirting with my mother?” a new voice asked.

Killian looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, looking exquisite in a lavender morning dress, trimmed with remarkably intricate lace that, if he had to guess, probably came from the finest lace maker in France. She was trying to look stern, but the twisting of the corner of her lips belied her countenance. Killian rose and took the hand she offered him, brushing his lips across her knuckles, the same way he’d done with her mother a few minutes earlier.

“Emma,” he began, “I have traveled all over the world, and I can truly say there are very few women with whom I’d rather flirt than your mother.”

“You are expected for dinner this evening, Killian Jones,” Ruth interjected. “And I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He chuckled as he resumed his seat. “I’d be delighted.”

Emma sat across from the pair. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmured.

Killian flashed her a grin. This was good. They were falling right back into their respective roles. He as the dashing and charming rapscallion, she as the proper lady pretending to scold him. Exactly the way it’d been before Liam died. The night before, he’d been surprised to see her and hadn’t had time to make sure his public persona was firmly in place. And it was of utmost importance that it was in place around Emma, because he could never allow her to see what simmered just below the surface.

“What plans do you have now that you’ve returned?” Ruth asked as a maid arrived with the tea tray.

“My goodness, that was quick,” Killian commented, as Emma prepared his tea. She remembered how he took it - milk, no sugar - and for some reason that pleased him immensely. He took it from her hands and then addressed Ruth’s question. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been gone so long, I imagine it will take some time to fully understand what is expected of me in my new role.”

“I’m sure Emma will be invaluable to you in that quarter,” Ruth assured him. Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, who was now pouring her own tea and studiously avoiding his gaze. “No one knows Kilmartin like Emma does,” she continued, pride in every word.

“Of course,” Emma murmured, still not looking at him. “I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

Killian took a sip of his tea before speaking. “I owe you a debt I could never repay, Emma.” She turned her head sharply toward him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. “For four years you’ve not only been the countess, but the earl as well. In everything but name. I’d never have been able to stay away for so long if the earldom had not been in such capable hands.”

Emma blushed at his praise, which surprised him greatly. In all the years he’d known her, he could count on one hand the number of times her cheeks had turned pink.

“Thank you,” she murmured, before taking a sip of her tea. “It was no difficulty, I assure you.”

“Perhaps, but it is truly appreciated all the same.” He took another sip and sat back as the ladies directed the conversation. 

Soon, Killian found himself telling the ladies about his time in India - his experiences, the atmosphere, the food he ate, the job he had. He left out his romantic exploits, the marauders, and malaria, deciding they weren’t suitable for tea time conversation. He enjoyed himself immensely and realized that yes, it was good to be home.

~*~*~

An hour later, Emma found herself on Killian’s arm as they strolled through Hyde Park. The sun had come out and she’d declared that they simply must take advantage of the lovely weather. Killian, ever the gentleman, offered to accompany her.

“It’s just like old times, isn’t it?” she asked.

“What?” he replied. “Walking through Hyde Park with me, or how you cleverly arranged for me to accompany you?”

A satisfied smirk touched her lips. “Why, both, of course.” They continued to walk in silence for a few moments. “I hope you understand my reasons for leaving ,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to. I really do enjoy being my own woman and mistress of the house, and moving back under my mother’s roof with Ruby in residence as well, just makes me feel a child again.”

“Would you like me to take up residence elsewhere?” he asked.

“Oh, heavens, no! You’re the earl! Kilmartin House is yours,” she asserted. “Besides, Alice will be here any day, I’m sure. She said she’d be a week behind me, but we both know a week means four days, at most. And as soon as she is here, I’ll move back in.” 

“I’m sure you will survive,” he chuckled.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course I will,” she agreed. “It’s just it makes me feel like I’m in my debut season, with all its rules and expectations.”

Killian shrugged. “Well, not all of them, obviously. If that were true, you wouldn’t be out walking with me.”

“True,” she allowed. She subtly bumped his shoulder, an amused smirk on her face. “Especially with you.”

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” He almost sounded indignant, and Emma had to quickly disguise her laugh as a cough.

She cut her eyes over to him, to see his jaw clenched and the small muscle jumping in irritation. Did her statement really bother him so much?

“Come now, Killian,” she tried to appease him. “You didn’t really think your reputation would suddenly become whiter than snow just because you were gone for so long, did you?”

“Emma…”

“Killian, you are a legend. Women still talk about you.”

He looked absolutely shocked at her words, with no small amount of dismay also circulating in his cerulean gaze.

“Not to you, I hope.”

“Oh, to me above all others,” she informed him, haughtily. “I’m the closest family you have here in London and they all want to know when you will be returning. Which, of course, now that you have… let the feeding frenzy begin!” She couldn’t help it, she was feeling quite pleased with herself for apparently striking terror into the heart of her dearest friend. He’d always been known as a dashing rapscallion without a care in the world, and now that he’d arrived home and seemed ready to take up his duties, his rank would undoubtedly make him the catch of the season. 

“Yes, you will have to marry,” she continued, thoroughly enjoying his apparent discomfort, “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Killian sputtered indignantly. “I’m two and thirty!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “But as the earl, you need to marry and beget an heir. The mamas will be falling all over themselves trying to introduce you to their whiney and insipid daughters.”

“I feel very afraid.” His resigned but somehow completely expressionless face made her giggle.

“Oh, you should be,” she assured him. “You’re quite fortunate that I told my mother this morning before you arrived that she was not to push Ruby on you. Because she’d do it. In a heartbeat. Not that Ruby is whiney and insipid, but…” she trailed away meaningfully.

“Heaven forbid if any Nolan female was anything less than witty and engaging.” She shot him a look, not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Hmmmmm,” she mused. “I believe I shall introduce you to…”

“Emma Nolan Jones,” he interrupted, bringing them to a stop near the Serpentine and turning to face her. “You are not to play matchmaker for me. Is that understood?” She opened her mouth to respond but he spoke again before she could get a word out. “And don’t you say that someone has to. I am a grown man and can handle myself when it comes to all that.”

Really, he thought with amusement, she hadn’t changed a bit. Always wanting to manage the people around her. She was quite the open book to him, and that hadn’t changed either.

“Killiannn,” she began, drawing out the final sound so she sounded like a petulant teen rather than the grown woman she was.

“I have been back in town for less than one day. One day,” he repeated, as he led them to a small bench next to the path. “It doesn’t matter that the sun is out, I am cold, I am tired, and not a single thing has been unpacked from my journey. Please give me at least a week before you start planning my wedding.”

“A week then,” she said slyly as she took her seat, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Emma,” he said, warning lacing his tone.

“Oh, very well,” she conceded. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you attend your first society function and the mamas are circling like sharks before coming in for the kill, you’ll be begging for my help.”

He shuddered at the image, and the knowledge that she was probably quite correct.

“I’m sure I will,” he placated, with a patronizing smile on his face he knew she’d detest. “And when it happens, I promise that I shall be duly prostrate with apologies and will beseech almighty God that according to your tender mercies, you will not leave me to the sharks of the ton.”

She laughed then and his smile turned genuine. He could always make her laugh, and it brought him far more joy and comfort at the moment than he should have allowed it to.

“It’s good to have you back, Killian.”

“It’s good to be back.” He said the words without thinking, automatically, but as soon as they left his lips, he realized he meant them. It was good to be back. It might be difficult, yes, but it wasn’t any more than what it had been before he left. Her smile was soft and genuine, none of the sly mischievousness that was such a part of her. She really was glad to have him back and that did more to warm his heart than any of their interactions so far. 

She turned toward the Serpentine and focused her attention there, nodding her head absently. He looked in the same direction and couldn’t see anything that might have attracted and held her attention like that. He only saw a rather sour faced nursemaid pushing a pram. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked. She didn’t speak, but continued to nod absently. He wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it. “Emma?”

She turned to him suddenly, her green eyes bright. “I want a baby.”

“I beg your pardon?” If she had suddenly announced that she planned to run away to America, he could not have been more surprised.

“A baby,” she repeated. “Lots of women want to have children,” she insisted. “Is it truly a surprise that I would as well?”

“W-well,” he stammered, quite at a loss of what to say in response. “I- I don’t suppose so…”

“I’m not getting any younger, either,” she continued. “Why, my mother was on her third child when she was my age.”

“Yes,” he interjected, finally pulling himself together enough to reply to her babbling, “but your mother was also married.”

“Well, of course she was,” she replied. “Why do you think I came down to London early? I’m looking for a husband.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he knew his face reflected that utter and complete surprise.

“Do you have a particular gentleman in mind?”

“Not at the moment, no,” she allowed with a shrug of her shoulders, “but I’d imagine someone suitable would present themselves relatively quickly…” She trailed off and her face looked a bit pensive. He was still reeling from her pronouncement or he might have realized she was as shocked as he was that she’d actually said the words out loud.

“And that’s if I can even conceive in the first place,” she said softly, almost too softly to hear. “It took me two years with Liam, and look how I mucked that up.”

That got his attention. “Emma,” he said fiercely, facing her, “You cannot blame yourself for the miscarriage.”

“Can you imagine,” she said, a watery laugh bursting from her lips that she was helpless to keep inside, “marrying so that I might have a baby and then being unable to actually have one?”

“It happens all the time,” he said softly.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “But it’s my choice. I don’t have to remarry. I’d be able to remain independent, I am well provided for, I wouldn’t have to leave Kilmartin…” but her heart would have this ache for the rest of her life. And she wasn’t sure she could survive that. But was it worth marrying someone simply for the chance of being a mother? Because she certainly wouldn’t be marrying for love. She loved Liam with everything that was in her. One simply did not find two loves like that in a lifetime.

She sighed, and it sounded utterly forlorn to her ears. She was going to marry for a baby. And there was no guarantee she would get one.

“Emma?” 

She didn’t look at him, but sat staring straight ahead, furiously blinking away the tears in her eyes. Killian held out his handkerchief, but she didn’t take it. If she did, the dam would break. There’d be no stopping it.

“I must move on,” she asserted. “Liam has been gone for four years, and I…” She turned to him then and the words stopped. They simply disintegrated. She was caught completely unawares, the kind of shock that makes it hard to breathe.

Of course she knew what Killian looked like. Of course she knew he was handsome. Of course she knew among all the men of her acquaintance, there was no more perfect specimen of manhood than Killian Jones. Her brothers were all handsome men, but even they didn’t compare to Killian. His eyes were the color of a perfect summer sky, the scruff along his jaw had flecks of ginger among the black that matched his hair. His lips were full and lush, and her own dropped open with a small gasp.

“I must go,” she said, leaping up suddenly, hoping and praying that he didn’t notice the breathiness in her voice that was so apparent to her. “I forgot about an appointment with the modiste.”

“Of course,” he agreed, rising with her.

“All of my clothing is in half-mourning colors.” She knew she was rambling, but she had to say something to make the lie convincing. 

Killian frowned in distaste and if she hadn’t been so agitated, it might have made her laugh. “Get blue. And green to match your eyes,” he suggested.

“Yes, yes,” she said, still a bit off balance as she took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her back to Number Five. She had to maintain appearances. She couldn’t possibly allow him to guess what had just transpired on the banks of the Serpentine in her heart and mind.

For when Emma looked at Killian just then, for the very first time, she saw a man. And it scared the very devil out of her.

~*~*~

Emma was never one to sit still, a firm believer in staying busy, that the best course of action was more action. So as soon as she arrived home from her walk with Killian, she found her mother and informed her of her intention to visit the modiste. Immediately. Might as well make truth of her lie as quickly as possible.

Ruth was delighted to join her, of course. She couldn’t hide her joy at the prospect of seeing Emma out of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. Normally, Emma would have resented shopping with her mother - she was perfectly capable of choosing her own wardrobe after all - but for some reason, the presence of her mother was strangely comforting today.

Emma looked out the window of the carriage as it rolled along towards the exclusive shops of Bond Street.

“Mother?” she asked, before she even realized she intended to speak.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why did you never remarry?”

Surprise colored Ruth’s face, her mouth falling open slightly, her eyes turning suspiciously bright. “That is the first time any of you have asked me that.” Her awe-infused words took Emma aback.

“None of us?” she asked incredulously. “Are you sure?” It seemed impossible. Emma believed her mother, but she couldn’t believe that not one of her five older siblings had ever thought to ask their mother the same question.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I’m quite certain. I would have remembered.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma murmured.

Ruth cleared her throat gently. “I don’t know how much you remember - you were very young - but when your father died, it was quite sudden. None of us expected it.” A sad chuckle broke from her lips before she continued. “A bee sting.” Even all these years later, Ruth still sounded surprised when she said the words. “Who would have thought such a strong, vital man would be brought down by something so small. So insignificant.” She paused and pulled out a white handkerchief, holding it close to her mouth as she cleared her throat. “Anyway, it was such a shock.” Then she turned soft and achingly wise eyes on her youngest daughter. “I expect you know better than anyone.”

Emma couldn’t speak and nodded slowly instead.

Ruth took a deep breath, obviously eager to move on from this aspect of the conversation. “Anyway, after Robert was gone, I was just so… stunned. There was no other word for it. I felt as if I was walking in a haze. Barely aware of anything going on around me. I’m not at all certain how I managed that first year. Or even the ones immediately thereafter, for that matter. I couldn’t possibly think of remarriage.”

“I know,” Emma replied, softly. Because, she did.

“And after that… I’m not quite sure why.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I never found someone I wanted to share my life with. Maybe I just loved your father too much. But, you also have to remember, I was in a very different stage of life than you are. I was older, and the mother of six. Your father left our affairs in very good order. I knew we’d never want for anything.”

“Liam left Kilmartin in very good order,” she murmured.

“Of course, he did,” Ruth replied, quickly, reaching over to pat Emma’s hand reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Of course not.”

“But you do not have children, Emma,” she continued, gently, “and quite a lot of years ahead of you to spend alone, if you do not remarry.”

“I know, I know,” she breathed, a sense of urgency lending a tone of near panic to her words. “It’s just… it’s just…” she repeated.

“It’s just, what, Emma?” her mother asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” The words loomed large in her heart and mind and Emma struggled to give them voice. Ruth remained silent, giving her time to bring her racing thoughts and feelings under control. She looked down and spoke to her hands, her words no louder than a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong. If I’m dishonoring Liam. Dishonoring our marriage.”

“There’s nothing wrong with remarrying, if that’s what you want to do, Emma,” Ruth counseled her. “Liam would want you to be happy. What makes you think you’d be dishonoring him or your marriage by remarrying?”

Emma looked up into her mother’s eyes, searching for something, she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps approval, perhaps love, because there was something supremely comforting about looking for something she knew beyond any doubt she’d immediately find.

“I- I know that I’ll never find anything like what I had with Liam,” she stammered. “You don’t find a love like that twice in a lifetime. I’ve accepted that. But, it feels wrong to marry for anything less.”

“I see,” Ruth replied. “Yes, it’s true, you’ll never find anyone like Liam. But,” she continued, “you might find someone who fits you in a different way. Rather like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing.”

Emma looked sharply at her mother. “What did you say?”

“Just now?” she asked. “I said you might find someone who fits you a different way from Liam. Like a puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing.”

Emma was suddenly back to the night Liam died when she and Killian had taken an evening stroll. She remembered thinking that if Liam understood her like no other, then Killian completed her, like a puzzle piece she didn’t know was missing. Was there any possible way that Ruth could have guessed her earlier epiphany about Killian? Emma scrutinized her mother closely, trying hard not to draw her attention from where she sat looking out the window. She had no clue her words had affected Emma so much, so it would behoove her to redirect the conversation.

“I want a baby,” Emma burst out. “That’s why I want to remarry.”

Ruth turned soft eyes on her. “I thought you might.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Why didn’t you ask why I never remarried?” Ruth’s face was utterly serene. No accusation or condemnation in her countenance. Emma shouldn’t have been surprised at the perceptiveness of her mother.

“If you had been either Regina or Ruby, I would have,” Ruth finally answered her question. “But you…” Her smile was soft and nostalgic now, “You were always different. Even as a child you held yourself apart. You needed your independence.”

Emma reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed. “I love you, you know that?”

“Well, I did suspect.”

“Mother!”

Ruth laughed. “Of course I knew it. How could you not love me?” She made a grand sweeping gesture toward herself, her eyes twinkling merrily. “With as wonderful as I clearly am!” They both giggled at the outrageously playful statement. “But truly,” her mother continued once their mutual mirth was under control. “Yes, I know you love me. As I love you. Very, very much.”

Emma’s chagrin showed on her face. “I haven’t told you. Recently anyway.”

“Well, you have been a bit occupied for a while.”

Emma looked down and covered the giggle that wanted to escape with a light cough. “May I ask you another question?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“If I don’t find someone… like the puzzle piece,” she took a gasping breath, “but I did find someone I rather liked, and married him… would that be alright?”

Ruth was silent for a long moment before she answered. “That is something that only you can answer, my love.” The look on her face was full of compassion and Emma felt the tears burning her eyes. “I would never say no, of course. Most of the gentry have marriages exactly like that, and they are perfectly content. But I would hope that my children wouldn’t have that situation as their fate. I would not call it dishonoring exactly to Liam, or to your marriage, but life is too short to settle for a marriage that doesn’t make you deliriously happy. Too short to settle for anything less than a relationship that would complete you. Yes, it will be different than Liam, but I believe you can find it.”

How did she know? How did she know the exact words to say that would bring Killian right back to the front of her mind? Yes, in many ways Killian did complete her, but could she love him? Love him the way she’d loved Liam? It truly didn’t seem possible, but in light of her mother’s words and her own thoughts over the years, perhaps it was worth considering. Even if she wasn’t sure she could live with herself afterward.

~*~*~

After Killian arrived back at Kilmartin House, he shut himself in his room, took off his boots, loosened his cravat, and moved to the window. He looked down to the street to see a nurse holding the hand of a small child. He had no experience with children whatsoever and was quite at a loss to guess the age of the child, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they might be on their way to Hyde Park. He grimaced.

Emma wanted a baby.

He didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a woman. And didn’t all women want to have children? And while he didn’t really think that Emma would pine away for Liam forever, it had never occurred to him that she might desire to remarry, either.

Liam and Emma were always a unit. And while Liam’s death did make it easier to think of one without the other, it was quite different to think of one of them with another.

Then there was the small matter of his skin crawling, his usual reaction to the thought of Emma with another man.

He shuddered. Or was that a shiver? Damn, he hoped it wasn't a shiver.

He supposed he’d have to get used to the idea. Emma wanted a baby. And to have a baby, she’d need a husband. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. If only she’d taken care of that last year. Then it would be over and done with by now. But as it was, he was going to have to watch.

Bloody hell.

He shivered again. Damn. Maybe he was just cold. It was March, after all, and a bloody chilly one, even with a fire in the grate. He pulled his cravat off on account of it feeling suddenly tight. He felt awful. Hot and cold at the same time, and off balance as well. He sat down for a few minutes, but then gave up all pretense of being well, stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed. 

It was going to be a long night.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next chapter will be up on Wednesday.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“DOMINION'S AIR CREWS HELPED TO DEAL BLOW ON JAPS AT COLOMBO,” Toronto Star. April 10, 1942. Page 38. ---- Nipponese Planes Sink 22-Year-Old Aircraft Carrier Hermes Off Ceylon, But Most of Crew Believed in London to Have Been Saved ---- BRITISH FLIERS DAMAGE JAP CARRIER AND COUNT 18 FOE PLANES SHOT DOWN ---- H.M. AIRCRAFT CARRIER HERMES ---- London, April 10 - Canadian air crews are manning huge flying boats over the Bay of Bengal and already have performed heroic service against the Japanese, it was learned today. 

"They have played an exceptionally important and heroic part in recent air operations against the enemy," the air minister said. 

It was a Canadian air crew that played a primary role in the disastrous defeat dealt Japanese bombing squadrons in the enemy attack on Colombo, Ceylon, last Sunday, the air ministry revealed. 

At the same time the admiralty announced that Japanese planes have sunk the 22-year-old, 10,850-ton aircraft carrier Hermes off the coast of Ceylon, and that British fliers materially damaged a Japanese aircraft carrier and knocked down 18 planes in the same waters.

One informed source said the attacks in which the Hermes, Dorsetshire and Cornwall were sent to the bottom cost the Japanese fully 75 planes. He said the Hermes was sunk by bombs, not plane-launched torpedoes.

A Canadian-manned aircraft first spotted the Japanese bomber fleet headed for Colombo and "hence was instrumental in thwarting the attack," said an air ministry spokesman.

The reconnaissance crew flashed word enabling the city to prepare for the raid, with the result that a large portion of the 75 enemy aircraft were destroyed for certain. The admiralty said that Japanese claims of cruisers in addition to the Cornwall and Dorsetshire sunk off Trincomalee were known to be "quite untrue."

[AL: This is very slanted reporting, as we should expect war reporting. Colombo was not a disastrous defeat and the Japanese airplane losses were very low - Hermes was caught with its planes on deck, for one. A disastrous loss for sure.]

[alexbyrth]

Grumman TBF Avenger - When 'good enough' wins wars. It wasn't built to be all things to all people. Which is probably why it ended up being the best naval bomber of World War II. The Grumman TBF Avenger was primarily used by the United States Navy, but it was also used by other Allied nations, including the Royal Navy. Fleet Air Arm pilots loved it. It was a generational leap over the reliable but increasingly obsolescent Fairey Swordfish and Albacores they had flown previously. And its performance, reliability and safety was significantly greater than its supposed contemporary - the Fairey Barracuda. But the Barracuda was trying to be a dedicated torpedo bomber, a fully functional steep dive-bomber and an all-weather scout. The Avenger began with low expectations and ended up excelling across the board. The Royal Navy received a total of 402 TBF Avengers through the Lend-Lease program, and they were operated primarily by the Fleet Air Arm. The Avenger saw action in several theatres of war, including the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, and it was instrumental in the defeat of the German U-boat threat. But the Royal Navy found the Avenger most useful in the Indian and Pacific Oceans where the Fairey Barracuda's performance problems were most apparent.

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in October 2023

02/10 As President of the Riding for the Disabled Association visited Avon Riding Centre, to mark its 40th Anniversary. 🐴🥳

03/10 Held two Investiture ceremonies at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Minchinhampton Centre for the Elderly, visited Horsfall House, Minchinhampton. 👵🏻👴🏻

04/10 In Cornwall Princess Anne visited;

Origin Coffee in Porthleven. ☕️

Camborne School of Mines at the Penryn Campus of University of Exeter, in Penryn. 🔨

St Ewe Free Range Eggs Packing Centre in Truro. 🥚

05/10 As Colonel of The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons), attended a Household Cavalry Medal Parade at Powle Lines, Picton Barracks in Wiltshire. 🫡

07/10 With Sir Tim Attended the Scotland vs Ireland Rugby World Cup match at the Stade de France in Paris. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇮🇪🇫🇷🏉

09/10 As Patron of Livability, visited Livability Millie College in Poole. 🏫

As Patron of UK Youth, visited Avon Tyrrell Outdoor Activity Centre in Bransgore. 🧗‍♀️

10/10 Attended a Future of UK Food Systems Seminar held by Crops for the Future at the National Institute of Agricultural Botany in Cambridge. 🚜

As Commandant-in-Chief (Youth) of St. John Ambulance, opened the new Ambulance Hub in Castle Donington. 🚑

11/10 Held two investiture ceremonies at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

Unofficial, Sir Tim attended the opening of the New Zealand Liberation Museum, Te Arawhata, in Le Quesnoy, France. 🇫🇷🇳🇿

As Patron of Scots in London Group attended a Reception at St Columba’s Church of Scotland. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Attended a Blue Seal Club Dinner at the Cavalry and Guards Club in Piccadilly, London. 🤵‍♂️

12/10 As Patron of the Campaign for Gordonstoun, chaired a Cabinet Meeting at the Lansdowne Club, London. 🏫

As Patron of English Rural Housing Association, attended a Parish Council Rural Housing Conference at Eversholt Hall, Bedfordshire. 🏡

Visited the Aircraft Research Association in Bedford. ✈️

As Grand Master of the Royal Victorian Order, attended Evensong and a Reception at The King’s Chapel of the Savoy, London. 🎶

14/10 Sir Tim represented Princess Anne, Patron of the Wiltshire Horn Society, at a dinner on the occasion of their centenary. 🐑

15/10 As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended the first day of the 141st International Olympic Committee Session in Mumbai, India. 🇮🇳

16/10 As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended the second day of the 141st International Olympic Committee Session in Mumbai, India. 🇮🇳

Attended an IOC Reception at Jio World Centre. 🌏

17/10 As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended the third day of the 141st International Olympic Committee Session in Mumbai, India. 🇮🇳

Visited the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Bombay 1914-1918 Memorial at the Indian Sailors’ Home, in Mumbai. 🪖

Attended a reception at the residence of His Majesty’s Trade Commissioner for South Asia and Deputy High Commissioner for Western India in Mumbai. 🌏

Unofficial Sir Tim attended a memorial service for Lord Lawson (former Chancellor of the Exchequer) at St. Margaret’s church in Westminster ⛪️

19/10 Hosted a Reception with the King, Queen and the Duchess of Edinburgh at Buckingham Palace to thank those who contributed to and were involved with the State Funeral of The late Queen Elizabeth II and with the Coronation of Their Majesties. 🥂

With Sir Tim, As Colonel-in-Chief of the Royal Army Veterinary Corps attended the launch of the Corps History Book at the National Army Museum in London. 📚

With Sir Tim, As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, attended the Trafalgar Night Dinner at the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich, London. 🤵‍♀️🤵‍♂️

20/10 Opened Cutbush and Corrall Charity almshouse accommodation in Maidstone.

Opened the Royal British Legion Industries Centenary Village, Greenwich House, in Aylesford, Kent.

As Patron of the Butler Trust, visited HM Prison Elmley.

24/10 Held an Investiture at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

As President of the English-Speaking Union of the Commonwealth, delivered the Evelyn Wrench Lecture at Dartmouth House in London. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

25/10 In Scotland Princess Anne visited;

The International Society for Optics and Photonics Photonex Exhibition at Scottish Event Campus in Glasgow. 🔍

As President of Victim Support Scotland, visited the National Office-West in Glasgow. 🫂

Peter Equi and Sons Limited Ice Cream Manufacturer. 🍦

26/10 Opened the National Honey Show at Sandown Park Racecourse in Esher, Surrey. 🍯 🐝

As Royal Patron of the Security Institute, this afternoon attended the Annual Conference at the Royal Society of Medicine in London. ⛓️

With Sir Tim As President of the Royal Yachting Association, attended a 50th Anniversary of the Yachtmaster Scheme Dinner at Trinity House, London. 🛥️🍽️

27/10 Held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

31/10 In Scotland;

As Patron of the Moredun Foundation, attended a Conference at Moredun Research Institute, Pentlands Science Park, in Penicuik. 🧬

As Royal Patron of the Leuchie Forever Fund, attended a Reception to launch Leuchie House’s new strategy in Edinburgh. 🏡

As Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh, held a Chancellor’s Dinner at the Palace of Holyroodhouse. 👩���🎓

Total official engagements for Anne in October: 47

2023 total so far: 400

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in October: 6

2023 total so far: 81

[ginandoldlace]

In 1942 during World War II: The Imperial Japanese Navy launched a carrier-based air attack on Colombo, Ceylon during the Indian Ocean Raid. The port was damaged, civilians were injured and the Royal Navy cruisers HMS Cornwall and HMS Dorsetshire were sunk south-west of the island.

[scotianostra]

9th July 1861 saw the birth of the shipping merchant, philanthropist and art lover William Burrell.

William left school at 13 to join his father and brother in the family business as a shipping merchant. He bought his first painting while still at school, with a few shillings he got from selling a cricket bat. It was the beginning of his 75-year collecting career.

His father and grandfather were involved in shipping. and, on his father's death, William and his brother took over the running of the firm. They developed the technique of ordering modern, advanced ships at rock bottom prices when the shipping market was in a slump, thus trading with brand new ships when the market recovered and then selling, at a large profit, when the market was at a peak. William also had an eye for detail and an astute eye for opportunities.

Having learned that a squadron of Royal Navy ships were on a flag waving exercise in distant ports, he realised they were likely to run out of coal and sent some of his ships to one of the ports of call, selling the cargo at a handsome profit.

The brothers amassed a large fortune and Burrell entered into local politics. He was active in the setting up of the Glasgow International Art Exhibition in 1901. At the age of 40 he married Constance Mitchell, daughter of another ship-owner and the following year, with the birth of a daughter, the family moved to a "Greek" Thomson designed house in Great Western Road.

Having again built up a large fleet of modern vessels, the brothers sold most of them during the First World War - at more than three times the building cost. It was at this stage that Burrell effectively retired and devoted the rest of his life to being an art collector.

He had a wide range of tastes but built up an important collection of Chinese ceramics, tapestries, stained glass, silver, bronzes, Persian and Indian rugs and furniture, travelling widely in the process. In 1916 he bought Hutton Castle in the Borders, although he did not move in to the castle until 1927. The same year he was knighted for his public work and services to art. He always had a good eye for a bargain - a 14th century Chines porcelain ewer was bought for 85 pounds and is now worth over 250,000 pounds.

In 1944, he gave almost his entire collection to the city of Glasgow along with 250,000 to construct a building to house it. However, the terms of the bequest (he thought it should be in a rural setting) posed problems and it was not until the 1970s that a building for the Burrell Collection, in Pollok Country Park, was eventually completed.

Just this year, after a major refurbishment and redisplay the Burrell Collection reopened More of the Collection is on show than ever before and exciting new galleries bring the objects to life, including more than 90 digital displays offering interactive and immersive experiences for visitors of all ages.

The new displays also tell the stories of the man behind the Collection, Sir William Burrell and his family.

The Burrell Collection is open 7 days a week, entry is free but donations welcome.