by Andrea Jones
“She just stood there. I got the feeling she expected worse.”
“Sure, but Jill’s got her pegged for service. Better keep hands off until Jill says go.” Nibs’ smile contorted itself and his real objection bared its chest. “Dammit, Tom, you beat me to her!”
Tom sent a sly grin up to his brother. “I know. Next time we celebrate a prize, you’ll let me finish the bottle!” But these boys had grown up together, at the very same moment. “You’re welcome to her, Nibs, if you can get her. But after talking to her once, I think we’ll both have to wait for port call.”
“Aye, but Mr. Starkey warned me he’ll keep a sharp eye on us, first time ashore.”
“That’s just because he’s eager to get ashore, too. I’m not sure I’m ready for another of his lessons this afternoon.”
“Knife-fighting this time. Fancy the poor boys he used to teach at that school! No wonder he’s so scarred about the face.” Nibs nursed his swollen knuckles. “ ‘Gentleman’ Starkey sure packs a wallop with that ruler.”
“Better Mr. Starkey’s ruler than the captain’s cat-o’-nine-tails. What he teaches us is for our own good. I don’t want to fail my duty and find my back in shreds, like Mr. Cecco’s.”
“And all because of a woman! You realize, Tom, we’ve started down a slippery slope. It goes to show that better men than us have met their dooms over females like Jill.”
Tom looked up at his brother. They both smiled broadly. “Aye!”
Nibs rearranged his nether regions, and lay down again. Tom wondered idly, “Do you suppose she’s seen a knife-fight before?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s even seen a sailor before.”
“I get the feeling she’s seen plenty. She’s just not talking.” Tom sat up then, pulled the oiled rag from his pocket, and picked up his knife and whetstone. “Pass yours down, Nibs. I’ve got to get this energy worked off.”
The men of the Roger would often remark after this day that the newest crewmen had the sharpest and the brightest weapons aboard. Even if they didn’t use them very much yet.
§ § §
Liza’s tongue slipped between her lips as she tugged the lacing tighter. She wasn’t accustomed to waiting on a lady. She was used to being waited upon, if only by her nurse. She was too old for a nurse now, but her father had insisted the woman remain so that Liza should be properly chaperoned, the sailors on the Julianne being, in his estimation, exactly like sailors aboard any other vessel. Liza wasn’t very pretty yet, but what her sharp ears had overheard those sailors say was complimentary, if not polite. And her own lacings were feeling tighter every day.
Still, Liza didn’t fool herself. She owned too much of her father’s distaste for the ordinary to appeal to average men. It showed in her face as it did in his, something about the mouth that turned down instead of up, in spite of the generous lips. That same something about Jill’s mouth turned up, always, Liza noticed as she stole glances at Jill’s reflection in the glass. Even when the lady was displeased, as she was now, that something was alluring.
It made Liza want to please her, and she fought it.
“Don’t be distracted, Liza. It’s nearly time.” Liza’s fingers weren’t as nimble as Mr. Smee’s, but Jill observed that even so, the girl finished the lacing more quickly than he. Jill smiled to
herself, but continued in a strict tone. “Next time don’t discard my gown. It will wrinkle. You are to hang it in the wardrobe. Now fetch me the brush, please, and look after the dress.”
Liza followed her orders, fingering the rich red taffeta as she worked, and wondering how to ask about her father. His situation puzzled her. Was he to be courted, or forced? Earlier, the mistress had directed Liza to the sideboard, and they set the dinner table together. Amid cheery clinks and pings, they laid out silver, creamy china, and crystal. Liza thought she heard the table service laughing in anticipation of the evening to come. As she crumbled lavender into the fingerbowls, the aroma reminded her of a starched, formal dining room left behind in England, with stiff brocade curtains, and doors opening onto an immaculate garden. But the mistress, unlike Liza’s mother, was lighthearted, as if unafraid to seek pleasure rather than perfection. Liza’s father would surely not approve of this lady— but he would find her interesting.
Liza had moved on to polish the harpsichord, startled at first by its frank tones, then lingering over them, and then she had brushed the plush fabric of its stool. It seemed there was to be music as well, and the lady slid on a pair of black satin slippers stitched with silver, slippers that simply demanded to dance. Liza had helped her mistress into a black silk dress with puffed sleeves, a low, square neckline and a full flowing skirt. She loved the sighing sound of it as next, the mistress moved about the room, setting out candelabra into which Liza pushed smooth, waxy tapers. But Liza didn’t understand; the scene was set for a party, as if Liza’s frowning father were a colleague, rather than a captive like his daughter.
While decanting the wine, Liza spilled a crimson splash on the sideboard. She expected a reprimand, but Jill handed her a cloth to wipe it up and, astonishingly, that smile appeared, and the woman dipped her finger into the pool of wine and touched a drop to Liza’s lips. Liza’s tongue got it before her hands thought to use the cloth. It tasted warm and mellow, like burning apple wood. And Liza remembered flaming sails over the water, and only then did she recall that she stood on a pirate ship, and that the finger that had touched her mouth was scarlet, and she grimaced and spit into the cloth. But it was too late. The taste of redness lingered, like blood.
Yet Liza wondered as she looked and listened, touched, smelled, and tasted. In all her life, she had never enjoyed such casual luxury. A very young woman, one who had been carefully watched in gentility, she couldn’t help but envy her mistress the sense of freedom she exuded, and the pleasure of these surroundings. It was as if the stain on the lady’s hand granted her not shame, but satisfaction. Was that the color Liza tasted?
There had to be a drawback. No doubt it took the form of the master. Liza was old enough to understand that one paid for one’s pleasure. Her mother had paid, although Liza was never quite sure to which of her parents the pleasure had belonged. But she had no doubt that this lady earned every priceless day— earned them by the nights she must spend with the pirate. Liza shuddered. They would be long nights! The captain must be demanding indeed to repay her with all this grandeur. The man who granted such extravagance to his mistress must be rich, rough, and imposing. A man to be avoided. As the dinner hour approached, Liza found herself listening apprehensively for clues beyond the door, the first warning sounds of the two men who would rule her new life. Her father, and his captor.
The mistress, while seeming merely to supervise the girl’s work, watched her closely, reading the emotions that played across her features. In spite of the gratification Liza displayed as she handled Jill’s belongings, she had a dissatisfied face. Jill had marked her restlessness at the very first, in Liza’s entrance alongside Tom. The girl was unhappy before she ever met a pirate. Beyond the basic discontent, Jill now detected Liza’s apprehension, and drew her own conclusions.
She was well aware of the workings of a young woman’s mind. While Jill tended her appearance before the mirror, she doled out information as it suited her purpose.
“You’ve no cause to be nervous, Liza. You’ll not be serving us dinner. We will apprise your father of your presence then, and you will be reunited later. If he complies with the captain’s terms.”
Liza looked doubtful. In her memory, her father had never complied with anyone’s terms but his own.
“The doctor is an intelligent man. He will be persuaded to look after his own interests, and yours.” Jill adjusted her necklace. “You needn’t come to me early tomorrow. We’ll be up late, and you may use the morning to speak with your father.” Her cool voice warmed. “Are you comfortable in your quarters?”
Astonished at the new, solicitous tone, the girl only blinked.<
br />
“All of this is new to you, I know, and perhaps frightening.” Jill gestured her closer, then drew her toward the couch. “Sit down with me.” She sat facing Liza, and laid a gentle hand on Liza’s jaw to turn her face. She pulled the pins from the girl’s hair and watched it fall untidily around her shoulders. Jill tucked the pins into Liza’s pocket and gave the brown locks several strokes of the hairbrush, pushing them away from the girl’s forehead before setting the brush aside. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
Liza shrugged, but moved her head to feel the swish of her hair. She liked the loose feel of it.
Jill smiled, pleased with the change, and bestowed an understanding look on the girl. “Liza, not long ago, I was new to this ship as well.”
In spite of herself, Liza’s face betrayed interest.
“But you’re reacting to more than that, I think. It isn’t only the ship and your new situation, is it?”
Curiosity crossed the young features.
“It is the excitement. The adventure.” Jill watched, gauging her audience. “And there is much adventure to be found in our way of life. It is most exhilarating, if you are open to it.” The storyteller had begun to spin her magic web. “You’re beginning a new chapter of your life, Liza. Your tale can be far different than you imagined it might be. You may discover it to be a fascinating experience, after all.”
The discontent was dissolving.
“What happens next is up to you. You can become a new person. A young woman.”
Liza’s face had cleared, like a blank page eager for writing. Plainly, she wanted to hear more. As promised to her captain, Jill had studied the girl. Her weapon had found the weakness.
“Growing up is a wonderful adventure. If you are brave enough to face it, change can be welcome. So many opportunities lie ahead of you, now that you’re free of the old ways. New places, new people. New sights and sounds.”
She had her now. “But it is somewhat overwhelming, is it not…” Jill tilted her head, “to be among so many men?” She waited for Liza’s eyes to confirm it. Continuing more casually, she aimed her dart. “Presumably you will benefit from the guidance of your father. I’m sure he will counsel you wisely.” Jill pitched her voice and thrust it, ever so softly, and right on target.
“But listen to your dreams, as well.”
Liza was listening.
“You don’t speak, but I know you listen, perhaps with more perception than others acknowledge. Hear your heart, also.”
New words, words such as Liza had never heard spoken before. Spoken by that mouth Liza wanted to please. The girl moistened her own lips as she watched Jill’s. What would they tell her next?
Next, for Jill— first, last, and always— came the welfare of the ship. Picking up the thread of Hook’s warning, she wove it in.
“You are young, but not too young to think of male companionship. Keep an open mind. You may find my men colorful, interesting.” She smiled. Liza hadn’t yet realized what her eyes had seen among the sights on this ship. She realized it now. A consummate storyteller, Jill paused, allowing time to advance her purpose once again.
“If, after some time has passed, one or more of the men suit your fancy, you may consult me and I will be pleased to advise you. I only caution you to go slowly. Keep your distance from all of them, even my sons, in the meantime.”
Liza gathered the implication. Jill would be watching.
Jill’s enchanting smile softened the message. “I wouldn’t be much of a mistress if I didn’t look after you.”
Liza wanted to keep that smile. She tried one of her own.
The mistress acknowledged it with a nod. “I want you to learn and to grow, as a young woman should do. But where the men are concerned, remember. What cannot be acquired easily is valued longer.” She laughed as the question grew in Liza’s expression. “Yes. I may tell you my tale one day. Even the captain had to struggle to acquire me. I believe he thoroughly enjoyed it.”
Liza came to herself, blushing at the lady’s forthright words. They roused the memory of Tom’s kiss, her first kiss from a boy. There were no rigid restraints here. The crew aboard this ship, even the mistress, knew what they wanted and lost no time going after it. Liza wasn’t used to people expressing their desires so honestly. She had been taught to keep herself in check. Her father was a model of self-control, at least in public. He had always controlled Liza strictly. And her mother.
And now this lady with her entrancing smile was showing kindness. The woman who had stolen Liza’s freedom was offering liberty of a kind she’d never—
Liza’s ready ears caught the cadence of steps on the stairs. She looked to the lady, who stood at once and turned toward the sound. The lovely face tensed with anticipation. Was it dread, or elation? Was the lady herself treated kindly? Was she free? And then Liza whipped around to watch the monster stalk into his den. She pushed herself up from the couch and shrank back, and her eyes opened as never before, preparing to take him in.
The door was thrust open…and the most magnificent man Liza had ever seen launched himself through it in a storm of black velvet, and entered into her awed imagination. Jill smiled on him, and in the instant became a radiant goddess. She held out her slender arms, and in two strides of his fine, shining boots, he had entered her embrace and engulfed her. His jewels glistened, and the flash of metal that was his right hand buried itself in the black folds of her skirt as the man kissed his mistress, mercilessly.
Forgotten, the girl stood staring, and felt herself disappear. In her mind, coming alive for the first time in years, Liza understood that she didn’t matter for this space of time. She was no one, and she was listening to— was it love?
What else could it be? A man like that didn’t waste time on sentimentality. Liza knew from her father’s example. He had used to love her mother like that; he had loved to use her mother like that. Watching this pair was all the more painful to Liza because she also knew her father had stopped loving her mother, just before she died. Liza dragged her gaze from the pirate to her mistress, and wondered. As willing as she seemed, how long could such a fragile creature endure that kind of love?
But, careless of anything else, Liza’s regard reverted to the man. So this was the pirate king! In one instant, he had far exceeded her expectations. She blinked and caught up her breath, and listened, watched, and even smelled him. The lady had been right. Right about everything. ‘Overwhelming’ was the exact word to describe this experience. And Liza now determined she would follow Jill’s advice. She would keep an open mind.
And then the man turned to Liza. Unbelievably, his blue eyes took hold of her, and the silkiest voice she had ever attended spoke to her ears alone.
“You are dismissed.”
She wanted to die. His was the voice she had waited all her life to hear, the perfect sound. His voice tore her heart apart, and in stopping, tortured her ears. And the moment he turned away from her, Liza did die. She ceased to exist. She had never existed— she closed her eyes and stopped breathing— because for this man, she had no purpose.
Not yet.
Still numb, Liza turned to the entrance and slipped away, out the door and down the steps of the companionway. She glided along, straight to her quarters, to shut the door without a sound and fling herself on the bunk and listen to her imagination as that pirate captain burst in and undressed her and bound her wrists together and kissed her, and ravished her with his lush voice. His hair felt like silk against her skin, and he smelled of leather; his mouth was firm and he tasted like strong spirits. She lay twisting and naked on her bed, breathing unsteadily and feeling the waves swell under the ship. Her heart pounded in her ears like the water against the wood.
Yes, Liza would keep an open mind. And an open body.
She didn’t have to hear her father say it. She knew he would already be hating that man. And wanting that woman.
The woman with the smile Liza no longer wanted to please.
He would fal
l under the spell of that woman, exactly as Liza had fallen under the man’s.
Liza rolled on her bunk and stuffed the pillow into her teeth, as she had watched her mother do, gagging herself so that her screams would be muffled as he had his way with her, over and over again, and not a soul would come to her rescue.
§ § §
Reluctantly, the surgeon allowed the uncouth Irishman to usher him across the deck toward the upper aft cabin, under the quarterdeck. At least, like he, the sailor had made the effort to shave and don a clean shirt. In his morning pacing, the doctor had not encountered one man who came close to matching the social standing of the captain. Hanover wondered again what on earth motivated this Hook to take up piracy and embrace its necessarily low standards.
He was not looking forward to the ordeal of dining with a pirate of any class, but Mr. Smee gestured toward the steps, and the doctor applied himself to climbing them, deliberately slowing his movements. When he faced the door, he found himself confronted with a bold brass plate. In elegant lettering, it proclaimed the name of ‘Capt. Jas. Hook.’ As if the man took pride in his profession! Hanover just stood there, and the Irishman was obliged to push past him and do the knocking himself.
“You’d best get over it, Doctor. The captain will have his way, and you and I have nothing to say about it.” The doctor disagreed, but his only reply was a twist of distaste along his lips. When the bo’sun’s knock was not answered, Hanover turned his gray eyes to question Smee. Smee only grinned. “So you’re in a hurry, then?”
The doctor was spared the burden of retorting by a female voice, surprising to his ear. The sound of it was all the more unexpected because it was such a calm female voice.
“You may enter, Doctor Hanover.”
He stared at the door for a moment, intrigued, then decided to open it himself, if only to deny Smee the pleasure of responding to the lady.
He stepped into the cabin and entered another dimension. Nowhere had he experienced a more elegant and comfortable room, on land or sea. Compelled to regard the woman in the soft pool of candlelight, the doctor didn’t see, but rather absorbed her environment. He stood collecting its comforts, taking in the sight of her. Smee had followed him in, and now prodded him to the center of the cabin. Making no sound, Hanover’s soft shoes traversed the Oriental carpets toward the loveliest of visions. He was glad, now, that he had used his razor.