Cornwall's majestic cliffs were veiled in dense fog when Sebastian Ashdon, Earl of Hartland, stood on the precipice and looked straight ahead. No light, as far as the eye could see. Instead, a thick grey blanket of nothing stretched out before him. Stiff winds blew drops from the rough sea into his face. His dark woolen coat swayed with the breeze. Add in the crashing, but invisible waves below, he cut the perfect picture of a brooding Gothic hero.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Sebastian stood firm. Lost in his grim thoughts. Maybe he was closer to a gothic hero than he?d like to admit.
Legs wide, steady. Eyes ahead, sure. His father's mantra wasn't the only thing he remembered from before. He remembered everything. Sun-drenched picnics in the meadows surrounding the manor, expeditions through fields and overgrown forests, and, every summer until he was shipped away, swims in the cool sea.
Yet, nothing felt, smelled, or sounded the same. Not the sea, not the air. And certainly not the ground beneath his feet.
Instead, the fog blocked his nostrils and the wet mist soaked his trousers. Seeped into his bones. Sebastian decided then and there that staring off into the distance was vastly overrated. Especially, when one couldn't actually see beyond one's own nose.
More than ten years away from England could make a man forget how the weather always interfered with a man's best, or worst, intentions. Even when his only aim had been picturesque rumination.
Sebastian felt like a fool. As a rule, Sebastian Ashdon did not tolerate foolishness, least of all in himself. Irritated, he pushed an errant lock of black hair out of his eyes and turned around, leaving behind the sea he remembered from his childhood, but had not found upon his return.
As he strode along muddy fields, his fields, towards the waiting carriage he forced himself to ignore the signs of decay around him. As soon as Sebastian had been back on English soil, he had set out for his estate in Cornwall. The thriving lands of his youth were gone. In Sebastian's absence, his guardian who had believed him lost, had evidently decided to shirk his responsibilities. To the earldom and to his nephew. The latter was more easily forgiven than the former.
Sebastian had left his home and country as soon as he had completed his studies in Cambridge. The same evening, he had packed his few belongings, bid farewell to his many acquaintances and few friends. He had been on a boat out of Southampton the next day. Then, he hadn't looked back.
Now, it was time to prepare his coming out. There would be no pastel-colored attire, nor a presentation at court, he hoped. But Sebastian had to plan his entry into society as scrupulously as any society matron would her daughter's. Bearing in mind his mission, there was no alternative. Failure was not an option.
Purposefully ignoring the crumbling tenant farms along the road, he went through each step of the plan. What he saw around him fueled his determination, and his rage.
Entering society for the first time would pose a few problems. Although his title was well known - if besmirched - Sebastian was nearly foreign to the ton. Polite hadn't heard from the new Earl of Hartland in over a decade, his past as shadowed to them as his future was to him. To succeed, he would need to call in favors with anyone who remembered. Anything to avoid relying on his relatives.
Sebastian had almost reached the carriage when the door was opened. Jo Greenblatt, his friend and confidante since one fateful night in the streets of Berlin, pulled him inside. Sebastian tapped against the front of the carriage and signaled the driver to depart.
He leaned back against the soft cushions and looked over at his friend. The first years abroad Sebastian had been lost and lonely. Their friendship had saved him, both literally and figuratively. Jo's arms were crossed, dark shadows played along his face, making it unreadable.
"Found what you were looking for?" After years of traveling and living across the continent, only a hint of an accent remained in Jo's voice.
"I'm afraid not," Sebastian admitted.
He wasn't sure why he had insisted on visiting the place where his childhood had ended abruptly and prematurely. Perhaps he had hoped to recover a connection. A sense of belonging. To this place, this country, but most of all to his father.
In every memory from his childhood, Sebastian's father, the Earl of Hartland, played the leading man. His image equally imposing and blurred. In hindsight, he couldn't separate man from myth. That was before he had lost face, family, and fortune.
He sank further into the cushions. "It doesn't signify. We're here for one reason only. Once our mission is achieved, we can return home."
"Home? Where would that be?"
"Brussels, Amsterdam, Paris, wherever we decide to make our home."
Jo's face remained skeptical. "If you say so. Depending on how the season goes, we may stay for longer than you expect."
"One season. No more."
Jo put his feet up next to Sebastian and smirked. "Famous last words?"
Topic: Week 2: Self-edit Draft Rough Seas (Read 583 times)