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Chapter 2
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~ London 1864 ~


William preferred to think of that day in 1860 as one of firsts. It held more of a sense of optimism that way and he was always one to reach for beauty and hope. Still, it was the first in a seemingly endless series of losses that eternally defined him.

Graham was gone, never more to ruffle his small brother's hair and play joust with him on riverbanks or tell him thrilling stories of ancient heroes and of loves worthy of one's death.

There was no longer the beloved brother to stand between William and Cameron either. His father need not have worried over William learning how to deal with bullies, as he received many a lesson from his other brother over the course of time.

The buffer between his stern father and disapproving grandfather had fallen to just Anne with Graham's passing and her tender support and encouragement was not the same as his adored brother had given. No more was there someone to tickle the tears away and make the small boy feel special and powerful. No one left to make him dream big and believe that William could actually achieve those dreams.

The dreaded change in tutors took place, but William had not lost his love of learning, in spite of the dour personality of Mr. Oxley. In fact, that good gentleman ignited an interest in mathematics that had previously eluded William. His move into day school that next year was seamless.

William was feeling quite grown at the age of twelve. The school term at St. Paul's was coming to a close and, unlike every other summer of William's life, there would be no trip to the Lake District, no wandering the Fells. Grandfather Macrorie had fallen at last and the old man's iron rule and annual reunions came to an end.

William waited in the hallway for an audience with his father to discuss the next school year and his entry into the time-honored tradition of young English gentlemen and boarding schools. Harrow had been chosen, to be followed in good time by a place at his father's alma mater of Cambridge.

Cameron had disgraced himself and the family by being sent down from that grand school. He was refused re-admittance. It would be up to William to restore his family name to one of honor, if that were possible.

Cam was even now in their father's study being dressed down for the millionth time in William's memory. The younger boy squirmed at the prospect of becoming the whipping boy for his older sibling, if things went as they usually did during one of these conferences. William was
highly glad that his own audience with their father would keep him from Cam's clutches, for a while at least.

"I tell you that I will NOT pay another of these debts, young man," Henry nearly shouted. "I am being dunned by every shopkeeper in London due to your spendthrift ways. I will not be responsible for your wagers as well."

"But Father, if I am not able to make good on this little gamble, I shall lose membership at the Savage Club!" Cameron Pratt had lost his membership in the more established clubs frequented by the upper-class male population. The 'brother savages' gathered in taverns for the most part and had only been in existence for a handful of years. "This is the last club open to me, Father. Do you not see the importance of my maintaining proper friendships?"

"These are not your friends, son. Anyone who encourages your baser instincts cannot be called friend." Henry was terribly disappointed in his middle son. Whereas Graham had been a bit too concerned with honor and duty to others, Cameron had little honor and showed loyalty only to his own desires. His indulgence in drink and loose women was a byword amongst his peers and his gambling debts were mounting to unbelievable proportions.

"Just what was the bet you 'could not possibly lose' that cost this amount, Cameron?"

"Dandridge wagered his pint would lose its froth before mine. I should have won that bet; there was far less foam on mine to begin with. It seemed a sure way to recoup my other losses," Cameron pouted.

Henry shook his head sadly, "You don't even gamble on reasonable things. Cards or dice, where a bit of skill might make such acceptable is one thing, but you will wager on every nincompoop idea to be put before you! Nothing is sacred." Henry looked with distaste on his boy. "I heard of your wagering on the possible date of your grandfather's demise. I said nothing to your sainted mother. It would have broken her heart.

"You have dragged this family down into genteel poverty, lad. No, I shall not pay this debt on top of the others. Time you learned to clean up your own messes." Henry stood, indicating the interview was at an end.

"Father, you can't do this to me! Dandridge wants payment now, not when I can scrape funds together. You are leaving me open to far worse than being driven from society," Cameron sounded desperate. "Please. I'll do whatever you ask, if you'll just cover this last debt."

"Where have I heard this before?" Henry began to think how he might turn this to his advantage as he noted how desperate Cameron appeared.

"I mean it, Father. I'll even go to work at the shipyard as you've wanted." Cameron had been dancing around assuming any responsibility for his entire life thus far. The idea of working in the offices of his father's primary business disgusted him, but Charlie Dandridge was a dangerous fellow to cross.

"Perhaps you would learn more, and be safer, if I assigned you a very special task with the company instead," Henry hinted. "Do you mean what you say, that you will abide by my command provided I pay this wager?"

"Yes, Father, anything. I'll build the damned boats for you if I must," Cam cried.

"Not build," Henry suggested, "Deliver."

"What?" Cameron was appalled. He was no sailor.

"I have a ship that is to be delivered to a private concern across the Atlantic. You shall go with the ship and accept payment. You will then use that money to finance a life for yourself there. When you think you can conduct yourself in a manner befitting your background you may return." Henry knew his wife would be furious that her son was being exiled, especially to a part of the world still warring with itself. 'Must do something to try to make a man of this boy, however. Anne will just have to understand.'

William nearly fell out of his chair when he heard his father level his condition. Cameron would be gone? Could his life possibly be taking a turn for the better, or at least more comfortable? 'The American Civil War was the sort of situation where a blackguard like Cameron
might just prosper,' thought his younger brother.

So lost in thought about this startling turn of events was William that he missed his brother storm from the study and out the front door of their fashionable home.

"William," his father's voice broke into his thoughts, "I'm ready for that word with you now."

~~~

Perhaps it was the impending removal of William's only remaining brother that brought a return of the dream. It could have been an unsettled stomach as well. Tensions were running high in the Pratt household after Cameron's exile was announced over the evening meal. The conversations that followed did little to aid digestion of Cook's fine roast.

Whatever the impetus, the dream did come. At first William thought the golden goddess would not arrive to counter the dark princess, but arrive she did. She glimmered in the sunlight like the most precious of gold. The rest of the dream was similar in content to the first one, with the dark princess claiming to hold ownership of William and the golden goddess turning the other to ash.

This time along with claiming that she was William's destiny, his goddess deigned to place a kiss on his brow. William vowed to lay down his life for this goddess if need be. Somehow he felt safe and free in her presence as he had at no other time in his real life until now. She
was his destiny, his reason. The dark lady might claim that he belonged to her, but William's heart knew better.

The two women made only one more appearance that year: the night the Pratt household was once more thrust into grief with the news that Cameron's ship had sunk off the coast of North Carolina. There were no survivors. William was now his father's heir apparent.