Another evening of tossing and turning in her suite at the Hotel Excelsior, her ivory silk nightdress was bunched and twisted around her. The bed coverings distressed from their mistress’ unrest. The braid in her hair disheveled. From the pitch of darkness, dawn was not far away and she had barely slept a wink all night.
[img_assist|nid=2861|title=|desc=|link=popup|align=left|width=640|height=480]The last letter from Edward had disturbed her and it had been a few weeks since he sent word.They had, since his departure, written frequently. The letters often arriving in the wrong sequence and randomly depending on the port and mail service to Babbage. His last hastily scrawled letter placed him somewhere in the Windward Islands, still giving chase to a nameless, faceless sea monster. They had run into some pirates, encountered hostilities from locals on some of the islands and were now safely in St. Lucia. The submersible had been damaged on the starboard side by a wayward cannon ball and forced to stay in Vieux Fort until they could restore the vessel to seaworthy condition.
Leia flipped onto her stomach and gently placed a hand on the empty pillow next to her, caressing it delicately. She stayed like this for a while with thoughts of her dear husband in peril and in the hands of pirates until sleep finally overtook her.