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The chilly evening fog drifted over the water, and the waves lapped softly against the side of "Goldsboro", determinedly heading towards its destination, exactly following the course, leaving regrets and worries far behind on the inhospitable French shores. Angelique stood at the balustrade and watched the setting sun paint the emerald waves a blood-red color, and its glare, like a sharp sword, cut the water surface. She shivered from the chill - the strong gusts of wind were getting angrier, more and more furious, but if someone looked into her face right now, they would be surprised to see a slight smile wandering over her pale lips. Angelique passionately wanted the emerging storm to wash away the dull despair that she could not leave behind, to console her heavy thoughts and the tormenting pain of her endless losses.
She left her past life behind, starting everything from the scratch, but for some reason, fear rang in her soul, although, it would seem, what else was she capable of being afraid of? Twice a widow, a mother who lost her children, a woman who lost what in the Old World was called honor. She branded with a lily flower in the name of the king... And, nevertheless, she was scared to start her life all over again, even though she did this countless times.
Maitre Berne, who had always been so kind to her, vainly appealed to her common sense, referring to the fact that the house, which they may find on new shores, would need a mistress, and the children would need a mother. Alas, Angelique no longer felt like the first or the second. She cast an indifferent glance at Honorine, who was standing nearby and enthusiastically watched the birds gliding over the foaming waves, ran her hand along the skillfully trimmed railing of the balustrade on which she was leaning, and suddenly realized a bitter truth, which she did not want to accept, captured by the insane whirlwind of the events of the last days: she was tired. Tired of starting from scratch.
The captain of the ship seemed to surreptitiously watch her. It was too incredible, and therefore exciting. Angelique wanted to calm her raging imagination, but at the same time, she wanted to believe that she was still beautiful and, perhaps, desirable. A house with a small vegetable garden, dreary evenings in the company of Master Bern - no, this was not what her thoughts were aimed at, this was not what her soul longed for. Love? Passion? The attention of this mysterious pirate, from one glance of which her blood boiled? Angelique involuntarily smiled at her own thoughts: after everything that fell to her lot, she still believed in fairy tales, like a child. But what else, if not a fairy tale, can be called the appearance of Rescator in La Rochelle? Was it the will of Fate? Or was he hurrying to her aid, like a knight whose times were already irrevocably gone? Reason mockingly told her that this unexpected meeting was nothing more than a coincidence, but Angelique, in spite of everything, wanted to believe in the impossible, and that fate stubbornly kept bringing them together.
Angelique recalled her first evening at Goldsboro, when, dying of cold and hopelessness, she knocked on the door of his cabin. What prevented Rescator from making fun of her and throwing her out? Why did he still listen to her, why did he protect her from the cold, throwing his cloak over her shoulders, offered her a cup of coffee, and agreed to help her, despite the dangers that the insane adventure she had proposed to him promised him? She had no answers to these questions, but she firmly knew that he risked his life saving little Honorine, he thought about everyone and everything on this journey across the ocean, and sometimes stealthily, as now, he watched her, and his gaze brought involuntary shivers to her.
With his appearance, a mystery returned to her life, everything around her became mysterious and exciting. Probably, Aunt Pulchery, God save her soul, would reproach Angelique now that she too often ran to Melusine as a child and that it was the old witch who instilled in the little savage this unshakable faith in miracles. Angelique made excuses to herself but stubbornly continued to hope for something and reject the persistent advances of Master Bern.
No, pastoral landscapes and a reliable husband would not be so bad, but she wanted to give a new meaning to her existence: to add fire, passion, movement, and, of course, love. Angelique sighed: that was the root of all her problems - she could not stay in one place, she wanted everything at once. Inconsistency and a taste for a luxurious life - this, perhaps, was all that she inherited from her first husband.
Remembering her long-lost love, Angelique's eyes darkened, and her thoughts took a completely different turn. She wandered like a silent ghost in the interweaving of her own life, and the burden of the past bound her hands in chains and pulled her down. She wanted to erase from her memory all the years she had lived and erase those mirages for which she so desperately strove.
Like a hot desert wind, sadness burned all the faith that still remained in her. A thick fog was spreading over the water, and she wanted to dissolve in it and not remember anything. Resilience is all that's left her from Philip...
Rescator gazed at the waves. What did he seek to discern in the fussy waters? What did he want to leave behind? He beckoned Angelique, like a flame that calls to him a tired traveler. She wanted to figure him out, and yet, and this desire seemed strange even to herself, she wanted the Goldsboro never to land at its destination. Life without an ultimate goal - perhaps this was the meaning that Angelique had been looking for for so long.
Rescator silently walked up to her, stood beside her, and dropped his black cloak over her shoulders. He was like the night itself - passionate, alluring, and Angelique wanted the dawn never to come.
“You look sad today,” he said hoarsely, and she shivered at the sound of his voice.
She felt numb during all these empty and dull years. The need to speak simply melted into a red smoke of bitterness and loss, and with it, understanding disappeared. People walked by, bumped into her, and stepped aside in disgust - of course, why would anyone want to listen to a ragamuffin, albeit in a starched cap? And the few with whom Angelique still shared her sorrows, only shook their heads in disbelief. Now she stood at a crossroads, and there was no one to bring her out of the darkness. Hope was, perhaps, all that was left to her from her own children.
A light of Honorine's smile, like a candle, illuminated the darkness of her present life, but there was too much suffering left in the past for the girl to be able to soothe this pain. Angelique wrapped herself in a cloak that smelled of tobacco and oriental spices and peered into the dark eyes shining piercingly behind the slits of the black mask.
"Tell me, how do you manage to start over and over again?" Rescator barely heard her whisper in the noise of the raging waves.
The pirate put his leather-gloved palm over her hand and, after a moment's hesitation, replied:
"A person should be able to find a trace of himself, mon ange, even if nothing remains of these traces. You have a daughter, I have a clear purpose that serves as a guiding star for me. New lands await us."
"And what if this is not enough? Love and the right to choose once lifted us to unattainable heights, but they have now driven us into this pitch darkness."
Rescator was silent and considered Angelique thoughtfully. It was unlikely that her desperate speeches could interest him, but she liked to just stand next to him and not think about anything. If anyone was able to return her taste for life, then it was definitely not the unfortunate Master Bern.
"A passion for riddles will someday ruin me," she thought with some reckless joy, "and now I seem to be ready to plunge headlong into another alluring pool!"
"Women ought not to fight," Rescator finally said, "And you fought too much."
"How do you know?" she asked him, her eyes suddenly darkened, like a raging sea.
"I see in your eyes melancholy and fatigue. They could be seen only in a person who has seen a lot in life."
“Sometimes I wish the Goldsboro would never land on new lands…” she said quietly.
"Are you afraid to start all over again?" he asked just as quietly, and a note of understanding slipped through his voice, as if she were talking to an old friend who knew her better than she did.
“No, but I don’t want to do it alone,” she said after a moment's silence.
Rescator's hand squeezed her hand for a moment, as if he had made some decision.
"Come with me, I will treat you to coffee, and who knows, maybe we will be able to piece your dream together."
"Will you return my broken soul to me?" With timid hope, she looked at him.
He did not answer and only smiled at her, inviting her to follow him...
The End.