“Please, allow me to be the judge of that,” she insisted.
He grimaced and exhaled loudly. “I am disturbed. I am bothered by the very essence of the system we live in. No. I am angry about it. It is not right.”
Ah, yes. She wanted to know what fueled such thoughts. She sat quietly, so that he would continue.
“I have wealth, tremendous wealth, none of which I have earned.” His admission wasn’t boastful sounding at all. In fact, he sounded a trifle embarrassed. He tugged a piece of grass from out of the ground beside him. “At my father’s request, I negotiate with the companies he has chosen to invest in and quite frankly, the more I have learned, the more appalled I have become. Not only is my family’s legacy built upon the sweat and tears of others, those less fortunate, but even greater wealth is being amassed through the ownership of other human beings. How much does one person require in order to be content in life?” He flicked a glance her way. “And I’ve known this, all along. But it is different to see it in black and white—to see humans listed as assets. I intend to understand why––stop me if this offends or is boring you.”
But Margaret was fascinated. She knew.Of course, I know. Hugh had made some vague references to the inhumane nature of the aristocracy. In an abstract manner.
But she’d never heard anyone else speak of such things. And most definitely not as critically or with Sebastian’s passion.
She had not expected such depths from him. She had judged him unfairly.
“But what can one man do? It is an entire system that has stood for centuries,” she noted. Because the system would fight to the death to perpetuate itself.
Sebastian stared off into the distance. “I can learn. I intend to discover why it is so, and then I will change that which is mine. But not while my father holds the reins. And not until I have a greater understanding. I’ll travel to America in a few months, possibly before year’s end. They have shed all notions of an aristocracy in exchange for capitalism, and yet slavery thrives there. Why would mankind think this is acceptable?”
A shiver ran through her. He did not simply wish to travel to entertain himself. He had noble, impossible ideals.
Dangerous ideals.
He was not just a young man wasting away his days. The determined jut of his chin and the fierce burning in his eyes assured her he would succeed in some way.
“That is why you wish for your younger brother to manage the estate you are to inherit.”
Sebastian nodded. “And he enjoys it. He and I discuss all of it often. We correspond incessantly when we aren’t able to talk in person. We think similarly on this. I’m having a ship built for my purposes, a special ship. Her name isThe Diana, after our mother.” The expression he sent her was a charming combination of sheepishness and pride. “We’ve run into a few snags, but I’ll sail in the springtime at the latest. And after I return, in a year or five, or a dozen, Andrew and I will instigate some long-awaited changes.” He shook his head. “I want to make our estates not only profitable but… humane.”
Oh, but how she had misjudged him. “I believe, Sebastian, that you will accomplish a great deal, if not turn the world on its head.”
He studied her as she smiled at him. She was not joking.
“I will take you out onThe Dianasomeday.” His words could not have surprised her more if he had promised to take her to the moon. “And then, you can fly. We will fly across the waves, the wind in our sails. You will fly with me, Maggie.”
He envisioned the future with such great optimism. She hoped he never lost it, but one did not go through life without meeting storms or pirates. And then there would be the times when his ship drifted aimlessly because the wind refused to catch those sails.
“I would love to,” she answered, feeling utterly relaxed. “But if I do not, you must write to me so that I can share in your adventures.” Although that would be wildly inappropriate.
Oh, but the wine would make her sleepy if she did not move. “Let’s pack up this food, shall we, and begin working on our masterpieces before I settle for a nap instead.”
He stared back at her. “I believe that I would like that, writing to you.” And then he smiled and offered up the plate he’d emptied as she stacked the dishes back into the basket.
“But I have no doubt that you will fly, when you are ready.” His gaze captured hers for just long enough to steal her breath before she busily went about moving the contents of the basket into some semblance of organization. When she set it aside, her heart beat once again at its normal pace as she reached for the case she used for her art supplies.
“I have charcoal for you, here. And a sketch pad.” She’d brought a small canvas for herself and noticed that he’d set her easel up already. “Would you mind moving it closer to the edge?” She knew exactly what she wanted to paint. And she wanted to paint it well so that she could refer to it and summon the odd emotions the two of them shared today.
You will fly.
As she extracted her palette, a shiver rolled through her.
She chastised herself for being foolish and then stepped over to her easel and stared at the empty canvas. She would stand while she painted. She’d tried painting while sitting but doing so hadn’t allowed her the movement she needed.
Sebastian had returned to the blanket and was picking out a charcoal. He was only joking, flirting. Of course, he would never take her on the ship named after his mother.
The confusion she’d felt the night before had returned—not only returned but doubled and tripled. Why? One moment she felt like she was seven and ten again, and in the next, she felt like she was sixty.
Why now? Why, after she thought she had everything figured out? In frustration, she let out a huff. She most certainly was not going to summon any answers by staring at a blank canvas. She tilted her head and imagined where to begin.
Waves crashed loudly below, and the wind stirred the loose tendrils from her coiffure. At the same time, a few clouds drifted lazily across the sky.
