by Dana Roquet
Rene’ emptied his drink, setting the glass down sharply and rose, jamming his hands into his coat pockets as he looked to each of the others in the room, “It seems clear to me that Desiree has been through enough! I would like to suggest this be dropped now. She is home—safe and needs all our support!” He nodded curtly at Jacques and Francois and left the room and then exited the house.
“I must agree with Rene’.” Francois sighed, taking his wife’s hand and assisting her from her seat, “Mary we shall come around after she has had time to settle in. Philippe, let’s be going.”
The three departed and Mary wiped her eyes, rising to go about her duties. Jacques Monet stood alone in the room for a moment and then with a shake of his head, walked into the study to do some work before the afternoon was gone.
Chapter Forty-Four
A brutal north wind cut into Timothy Colter as he trudged through the slush along the waterfront making his way to the Windward. The New Year had come and gone; it was early February and Mother Nature was dealing out her worst upon the Northern Hemisphere.
He pulled the heavy woolen coat close about his neck and jumped onto the icy main deck of the Windward, “What the hell is going on?” he barked at Davison who was leaning against the far rail enjoying a pipe.
“Timmy!” Davison shouted, coming to his full height, “Never have I been so glad to see someone in my life—Ham!” he bellowed, “Tim is here!”
Ham appeared from the forward hold and Tim raised a brow in question, “Where is Stephen, Ham?”
The crew gathered around and Ham rubbed his bristled jaw, “He’s in the Jamestown jail Timmy. I was just going to see what might be done about selling some cargo on the market to raise enough to spring him.”
“What did he do?” Tim asked in amazement, looking about the group of men. Some chuckled, while others only shook their heads.
Ham spoke up, “He got into a brawl, only this time he nearly destroyed a common room up the docks single-handedly. It will take three hundred pounds to have him released.”
“Three-hundred pounds!” Tim choked, “But Ham what about the strongbox?”
Ham shook his head, “Less than fifty pounds.”
Tim rubbed across his face wearily with both hands,” I’ll take care of it. Which way to the jail?” he sighed.
Ham pointed off the bow, “Past the center square and around back of the merchant shops.” He looked at the men gathered in a cluster about them, then gestured to Tim, “Could I have a word with you alone?”
Tim accompanied him to the bow away from the crew and Ham spoke softly, his expression concerned, “Timmy I am very worried about Stephen. He has done nothing but drink and brawl his way from England to here. He’s changed Timmy. I have never seen him like this before. Christ—we would have made record time leaving here until he got hauled in. We have been sitting here for three days now, wondering what to do. It isn’t like him to be so reckless, at least not enough to interfere with business. I can’t get through to him, maybe you can.”
“I’ve heard of his exploits Ham—that’s all I’ve heard. I can try to talk with him but I don’t know what good that will do. If you can’t get through to him—I doubt I will be able. Thanks for telling me though and I should have him out soon.”
“Thanks Timmy.” Ham said with a handshake.
***
Tim walked along the street toward the jail, deep in thought. If Ham was worried, Stephen must surely be in bad shape. Ham and he had always shared a very close relationship, almost like father and son, ever since the deaths of Dan and Will. For years they had been inseparable. Ham had sailed with Stephen every voyage, since that time. He had always been Stephen’s confidant. If Stephen wouldn’t talk to him, he must be in a terrible state; and he had a good idea what it was about—Desiree. Stephen had left port the day after Desiree and Tim knew he was going back to sea to forget but it looked as though that had backfired.
***
Stephen stood from the low pallet when the key turned and the heavy bar slid back.
“Okay Colter, let’s go.” The guard ordered brusquely.
Stephen stepped from the cell and Tim glared at him from across the dim, dusty floored main room.
“Tim, am I glad to see you!” Stephen sighed. He received no similar response, only an icy perusal that at least matched the wintry cold outside. He knew he looked a sight. His clothes were in tatters from the brawl, a full beard covered his jaw and he was in definite need of a bath. He chuckled as Tim took in his appearance.
“You are free to go” the guard grunted, handing Stephen his great coat and taking his seat at the tall desk.
Stephen donned his coat and preceded Tim out the door, flinching as the bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. “Did you stop by the ship? Of course you did, how else would you have known where to find me.” Stephen stated, answering his own question, “Well I am glad you showed up.” He pulled his coat about him tighter, “Coming back to the Windward?”
Tim shook his head, “No, I have some work to do. I’ll be around later to see you.” He stepped out into the street, heading toward the warehouses but stopped and turned around, “Stephen!” he called. Stephen stopped on the walk and turned back, “Stay around where I can find you. We have to talk.”
Stephen nodded. “You know where to find me.”
He turned and headed down the walk and Tim watched him for a moment, and then started across the street. It would be better to let him get to the ship, get cleaned up and square things with his crew before he tried to talk with him, he decided.
***
It was toward nightfall when Tim walked along the docks toward the Windward and was met, by Stephen, heading in the opposite direction. Tim stopped and looked at his older brother quizzically.
Stephen smiled congenially, “Come on, let me buy you a drink.” He offered, reaching out and turning him about by the shoulders to the direction he was headed.
“I thought you destroyed the place.” Tim stated dryly.
“One place—I have an inn further up town in mind.” Stephen laughed.
Tim shook his head with resignation, “Lead on Stephen.”
“That’s the spirit!” Stephen chuckled, giving him a slap upon the back for good measure.
Tim looked at Stephen’s face as they walked along and noticed dark circles beneath his eyes. It seemed he hadn’t slept well during his imprisonment. He had bathed and shaved, he noted, and he was impeccably groomed but he sported a wicked bruise across one cheek and a gash across his forehead. He was favoring one arm and his knuckles were swollen and split from frequent use in combat. He looked like hell and Tim could see there was definitely much to worry about, where Stephen was concerned.
***
The inn as Stephen referred to it was no more than a shoddy brothel. It was a large two story building, once a private residence, which in its day, had been grand. Now it was in a state of disrepair. It looked to have been whitewashed at some time in the distant past but weathered and splintered gray wood told of a lack of care. Piano music filtered through a window near the front door and Stephen bounded up the steps and entered, as Tim followed close behind.
An elderly woman, with silver hair and a well tended figure greeted them with a lilting laugh, “Welcome! Come in, come in. Welcome to you both.”
She was French and Tim was reminded of Desiree and her gentle, flowing accent, so pleasing to the ear.
They were led through a gaudy front room, graced with red velvet furnishings and a plush rug of the same crimson, through a dark oaken archway and into what might have once been a formal ballroom but now served as a common room. The room was dimmed and shades at the windows were drawn down. A few candles in sconces upon the walls emitted the only light and Tim squinted to make out the room and its occupants. It was partially filled with patrons and many women moved amid the men, seeing to their needs.
The Madame showed them to a table and returned moments later with two large tankards
of ale. Stephen drank deeply of his tankard and Tim watched his eyes as he observed the women waiting tables and lounging against the bar in provocative clothing.
Stephen noticed Tim’s regard on him and then nodded toward the women. “See any you like?” he asked.
“Sorry to disappoint you Stephen but—this isn’t for me.” Tim replied dryly. He was unaccustomed to such a low grade of entertainment. He had never gone in much for whores, as Stephen had.
“I’ll tell you what little brother—I consider this place my own little form of self torture—don’t tell me you don’t hear the flowing French accents, and,” he paused holding up an index finger as if to say wait, and emptying his drink, he then motioned to a maid to bring him another. As she approached he drew Tim’s attention to her, “and I would like for you to meet Rosalie. Rosalie this is my brother Tim.”
“Tim, it is very nice to make your acquaintance.” She had a very gentle French accent.
Tim acknowledged her kindly and then looked to Stephen who smiled at him in silent communication and then went back to giving his attention to the raven haired young woman with the light blue eyes. It was obvious to Tim as he watched Stephen —that he was reminded of Desiree. The woman was not near Desiree’s caliber for looks but there were similarities.
“Thank you Rosalie that will be all.” Stephen stated, dropping the cost of his drink into her palm.
“See what I mean Tim, my own private torture chamber.” Stephen said good-naturedly, “But I welcome it.”
“So you frequent this place, and wallow in self pity and how does that help? With the tales I have been hearing of your exploits from England to here nothing you are doing seems to be helping your state.”
“Perhaps not.” Stephen said with a sad smile and leaning back, studied his tankard. “But I keep trying. I know you are too picky to approve of this sort of sport but I hope you won’t think ill of me if I continue to attempt to find some semblance of my former life. Truth be known I can’t recall what my life even was before the events of this last year.”
“I always have been picky and truth be known Stephen I don’t begrudge you this, but I just think your life could be so much more than this. It’s all about making the correct choices for your life, you know?” Tim asked.
Stephen chuckled softly, “Very poetic and admirable Tim. You are lucky that you have choices.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” Tim asked in confusion.
“Oh nothing…not a damn thing…” Stephen shook his head, changing the subject to the recent voyage and what he had acquired in goods that would be returning to Somerset with him.
Some time later Rosalie again approached their table to see to their needs and be sure they were not lacking for libations and this time Stephen took her by the wrist and with his gentle urging she seated herself upon his lap and he nuzzled her neck playfully.
“May I interest you in a stroll upstairs Monsieur?” she asked softly in his ear. “I would be very pleased to join you there.”
Tim was not surprised by this development but was a little disappointed in Stephen and had hoped to avoid this kind of interruption in their discussion tonight.
Stephen rose and smiled at his brother almost apologetically, “Tim, have another drink on me won’t you, I will be back in a little while.” He winked and tossed a couple coins upon the table before him and he walked off, his hand riding along the French girl’s waist as she led him to the second story staircase.
Tim was surprised when less than fifteen minutes later Stephen returned, sitting down across from him and the woman, Rosalie, brought him another drink and departed without comment. Stephen drank deeply from the pewter tankard and then stared blankly at the table as though not aware that he sat across from him.
“Hey! Are you all right?” Tim asked, rapping the table with his knuckles to gain his attention. Stephen nodded without looking up. “What happened up there? Awfully quick transaction wasn’t it, or did you change your mind?”
Stephen looked up and made no comment but drew heavily on his tankard, ignoring his questions.
“You should try one Tim.” He finally said looking around the room. “The redhead over there—she looks mildly interesting.”
“No thanks. As I told you before, I prefer my intimacy, just that—if you don’t mind.” Tim ground out.
Stephen shrugged and said nonchalantly, “For the record—this is the way to go brother. You drop a coin—they spread their legs and the best part is—they don’t expect much; they don’t expect anything!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tim barked and sat forward, slamming his drink down upon the table and glaring into Stephen’s cold eyes, “You are like a different man! Christ your men sit aboard your ship for days, wondering how to get you out of jail for breaking up a tavern! You frequent whores and accomplish the act in less time than it takes a bull for God’s sake! All of it—this is all about Desiree isn’t it? You are punishing yourself for everything that you know you did to her. Or perhaps what you are really trying to do is to punish her, by destroying yourself! I’ll tell you something Stephen, the only one being hurt by all of this is you! You need to grow up!”
“Shut your mouth little brother or I will shut it for you.” Stephen growled.
“Oh you think so? You’re on! Come on—let’s step outside and maybe I will be able to knock some sense into that stupid head of yours!”
“No thanks.” Stephen shook his head and sat back in his chair casually, “I don’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours and besides I don’t want to spend another night in jail.”
Tim emptied his drink, standing, “Come on—let’s get out of here Stephen. I’ve had enough of this place and enough to drink. We have things to discuss and we can do without an audience.”
“I’m staying. Go alone.”
“No—you are coming with me. I have some things to tell you—things that are going to shake you to your foundation and they are best heard in private.” Tossing a shilling on the table as a tip, he waited for Stephen to join him.
Stephen glared at him but his curiosity got the best of him and he rose and donned his coat, walking before him from the house.
The waterfront was relatively quiet and night had closed in, bringing with it, the cold. Their breath was visible in the calm air, illuminated by bright moonlight and frozen slush crunched beneath their booted feet as the two walked slowly along the docks and as they walked, their tempers cooled.
“Stephen, can you tell me what it is? Why are you doing your level best to destroy yourself?” Tim asked and when he didn’t received an answer, he grasped Stephen’s shoulder, halting his steps, “Talk to me Stephen!” he demanded sharply.
“Tim,” Stephen sighed, leaning against a piling and crossing his arms over his chest, “I can’t explain it—it’s a feeling—or lack of it. The honest truth Tim and I hate to admit this to you—to anyone but I can’t touch a woman—back there, Rosalie—nothing happened. I did however pay her very well for a few minutes of earnest trying,” he paused with a short laugh, attempting to form his muddled thoughts into words, “Do you know what it is like—to look at a woman and be—unable to feel anything? God’s truth Tim, I wish I could. I wish I could act like some mindless stud, with as much feeling as any mangy dog with a bitch in heat.” He rubbed his hand across his jaw wearily, “It would be preferable to the celibacy my body has imposed upon me. I am unable to even consider…”
“What about Desiree?” Tim interrupted, “What do you feel when you think of her—if you think of her?”
Stephen chuckled, pushing off of the piling and standing tall before him, “Oh Timmy my boy, let’s just say it is a painful double edged sword. I try and keep those thoughts at bay but even at that I fail miserably and then I welcome the pain. Pain is better than nothing.”
“Come on.” Tim urged, shuffling his feet and rubbing his hands together briskly, “Let’s get to the Windward and out of the cold.”
&nb
sp; ***
Tim took a seat opposite Stephen at his desk. Leaning back in thought, he watched Stephen stare into a drink, lost in his own musings.
“Are you ready to hear what I have to tell you?” he began.
“Tim what could you have to tell me?” Stephen sighed, “There is nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know or that you haven’t told me before.”
“It’s time you understand about Desiree—why she was leaving that day; why she tried her best to be gone before you arrived back.”
“So it was calculated! I should have known.”
“It is time you understood her reasons Stephen and time you realized that Desiree loved you.”
Stephen’s bitter laughter interrupted him, filling the room and then he snapped caustically, “Christ Tim, what do you know about it? Any of it?”
“More than you do, obviously.”
“Ha! Tim if what she heaped upon me was love; it terrifies me to think of what her hatred could do to my simple mind!”
“I know that she was innocent until that first voyage in your company.” Tim spat, his anger rising at Stephen’s cavalier attitude.
Stephen nodded with a wane smile and his voice was bitter, “Aye! Guilty as charged and let me tell you something Tim, I have paid my dues for her maidenhead.”
“I further know, “Tim ground out, “she was confused and totally unprepared for what she was involved in with you. She was frightened of what she had become—trying to act the worldly part of your mistress without any idea of how to play that part.”