"He was," Brylee said, nodding slightly. "It was he who told the maids to leave this room exactly as it had been when Belle left. He said…" She paused, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered. "He said that when Belle returned, he did not want her to think we had forgotten about her or replaced her. I think…" Another pause. "I think he blamed himself, really."
Aaron furrowed his brow at this. "Why would he think such a thing?" he asked in a soft voice, not wanting to wake Belle. He believed her body protected the young woman by fainting. It was obviously too much for her to take, a scar that was more than just skin deep. He did not want her to wake and overhear this conversation in case it caused her to faint once more.
"He was telling her a story," Brylee told him, and she grinned. "Another pirate story, no doubt. Both Mother and Father tried to coax her out of her phase, but Papa found it amusing. She would always tell him that when she was older, she was going to be a pirate, and he told her that if anyone could do it, it would be her." She paused, her blue eyes getting cloudy. "Apparently, one of the butlers knocked on the door, interrupting the story. It must have been business, or at least, that is what Papa said it was, and so he left Belle while he went to take care of matters. It turned out, the guest was Master Commack, Commodore Commack's father. The two had never really liked each other, so the meeting lasted longer than Papa had previously expected." She tilted her head and rubbed her chin with her fingers in a thoughtful manner. "When he returned to Belle's room, he found Commodore Commack there, but no sign of Belle."
"Commack was here?" he asked as his brow furrowed of its own accord. "Should he not have had some sort of supervision, entering a lady's room?"
"That is what my grandfather believed as well," Brylee said. "He told him that if Belle ever returned, he would never have her hand in marriage as long as he lived. The family thought it was a bit harsh, but Papa did not relent. He had always had his suspicions concerning Commodore Commack, and he felt that this disappearance of Belle's justified them.
"After Belle disappeared, he became less jovial and much more withdrawn," she said. "I think, for whatever reason, they both lost a piece of themselves, being apart, whether Belle would admit it or not. When Papa finally died, about a month or so later, we assumed that it was due to heartache. He wrote a letter to Belle, giving it to my mother to give to her if she ever returned." Another pause, and then, "But for the rest of his days, he did not retract his blame on the Commacks."
"Yet you are engaged to the very same man that your grandfather suspected of causing his granddaughter to run away," Aaron stated. It was not meant to be accusing; it was mere fact.
"It is my duty," Brylee said, slightly defensive. "My family believed that Dustin Commack would make a good match. We were just lucky he would have me and not my sister." A moment of silence passed between the two before a flash of anger captured her eyes. "I was so mad at her for the longest time. I believed she ran away because she did not want to marry Dustin. Everyone knew she did not like him all that much."
"Then she must have realized at a young age that your duty to yourself should always trump duty to anyone else," Aaron said to her, "even if it means hurting the ones you love. I highly doubt, if she and her grandfather were as close as you say, that she could so easily leave him without a word. There had to be a reason; maybe it was the impending nuptials, but maybe not. Whatever the reason, she chose to run away, knowingly leaving everyone and everything behind."
"I have always wondered why," Brylee said, gazing at her sister as if the sleeping form could reveal the answer to her.
"Whatever the reason, it is her secret to keep until she decides to share it," he replied just as quietly.
14
The fact was, however, that Aaron wanted to know why Belle had decided to run away as well. She was obviously very close to her family, especially concerning her late grandfather, so something must have provoked her into leaving. Whatever it was, she would not share it; he could tell by the way she was guarding it.
"I should take me leave," Brylee said, looking away once again from intimate gaze Aaron had been looking at her sister with. "I am expecting someone." With that, she gave him a quick curtsey and left, shutting the door gently behind her.
After a very long moment, a low moan escaped the depths of Belle's throat. Aaron's brow perked and he leaned away from her body, hoping to give her air. He watched her blink a couple of times, her eyelashes fluttering. Immediately, he could tell that she recognized where she was and her head snapped to Aaron. For whatever reason, disappointment clouded her green eyes and she looked away almost dismally. She let out a sigh through her small, upturned nose, and pushed herself into a sitting position so that her back was resting on the wooden headboard.
"So it's true then, isn't it?" she asked in a small, pained voice, looking at the dirt collecting under her nails rather than her husband. She wasn't exactly sure she wanted to be alone or if she wanted the company of someone who was not related to her at all; a stranger she could divulge most of her secrets to.
Aaron was thrown off by her question; in essence, he was not sure how to respond. This, of course, caused him some confusion because usually, he was quite good at skillfully crafting the English language to come out charming and reassuring. Now, however, no matter what he said, things were not changing; he couldn't exactly make her grandfather come back. And she would continue to feel this way for an indefinite amount of time. Belle may not show it; she was quite good at masking what she was really feeling, but he highly doubted she would get over such a death, especially after hearing everything Brylee had to say.
"It's not your fault, you know," he told her, his voice velvet like a smooth wine. She regarded him with her eyes, a hopeful glint in there. Her heartbreak caused him a bout of depression, and somewhere against his chest, his heart beat almost painfully for her.
"How can you say that?" she asked him, looking away from those dark orbs of his. Again, she began to play with her nails, and lightly grazed her bottom lip with her teeth. "You heard what my mother said. She said…" Her voice cracked at this and she gulped, trying to restrain her tears from falling down her face. "She said that a month after I left, he passed. If I had just stayed, maybe–"
Aaron leaned over the side of the bed and gently gripped her shoulders so that his eyes were locked into hers. "We cannot go back and change things," he told her softly but firmly, "no matter how badly we may want to."
Maybe it was Aaron's smooth tone or the way he looked at her so deeply with those brown eyes, but for whatever reason, Belle could not hold back any longer. She collapsed onto Aaron's chest and her tears began to mercilessly fall, staining her cheeks with their trails. Aaron was momentarily surprised, but caught himself and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him. He was still sitting in the chair and she was still on the bed so the position was awkward, but for the moment, it was what she needed, and he was happy to provide it for her.
"Have you… have you ever lost someone?" she asked and then sniffed, keeping her head tucked against Aaron's shoulder so she would not have to look at him. She hated crying, but she had no idea what else to do. It actually felt good to release the tension.
Aaron froze for a moment, again, unsure of how to answer. He pursed his lips before rubbing them together slowly, as he sat silently in thought. He did not want to be condescending concerning Belle's feelings and give her some sort of fable, although he could easily do so, and yet, he had never lost someone the same way Belle had, or at least, not that he knew of.
"No, actually," he said, his brow raising gently as he gazed down at her, his hands cupping the small of her back securely. "I cannot imagine what you must be experiencing right now." He paused, listening as she began to slowly but surely calm down. Her shoulders still twitched, but the gesture was more sporadic than before. "But no matter what, I am here for you, as long as you need me."
Belle smiled at that comment, and subconsciously pushed herself deep
er into Aaron's embrace. His arms warmed her and made her feel safe; she did not want to leave her current position any time soon. Her fingers balled his nice tunic into fists. He was sure she had dirtied said tunic with her wet face pressing into the shirt, wrinkling it simultaneously. Subconsciously, she thanked Aaron for telling her to forgo the makeup tonight. If he had not, her face would be a careless painting pressed against the whiteness of Aaron's canvas.
"You know," she said, pulling her head from him slightly so she could look at him while she spoke. A shy smile decorated her face and he couldn't help but smile in return. "I would tell my grandfather that one day, I was going to be a fierce pirate lord, sailing the seven seas, pillaging and robbing and whatnot, and he told me that he would be honored to sail with me as my first mate." Her eyes clouded and he could tell she was trying to withhold her tears. A soft, sad chuckle escaped from her throat. "I, uh… I even wrote up my articles and he signed them."
"I think I would have liked to meet this man," Aaron said, tracing some random patterns on the small of Belle's back.
"He would have liked you," Belle said, her eyes lighting up, and sadness, for the moment, dissipating. She smiled warmly at him as she said, "I think that was what scared my family the most; it was not my fascination with you and the stories he relayed to me, but the way he spoke when he spoke of you. I think… I think that if he was not as fiercely loyal to his family as he was, he might have turned pirate himself."
"An admirable opponent," Aaron said, nodding curtly. "Or ally, depending."
This caused Belle to chuckle, and she leaned her head back down on Aaron's shoulder and sighed. It used to be that she could feel completely secure in her Papa's arms, in her Papa's lap, but now, she was beginning to find that Aaron was slowly taking over that role. It scared her, yes, and she knew that she wasn't replacing her dear grandfather, but despite her unsure fear, she would not pull herself from him. She closed her eyes, another sigh escaping from her nose, and she thought off-handedly how easy it would be to fall asleep right here. Aaron continued to trace random patterns on the small of her back, causing goose bumps to prick her skin.
"Why did you become a pirate?" she asked, her voice muffled against the cloth.
This caused him to raise his brow, but he did not stop his ministrations, and even rested his chin gently on the top of hers. How should he begin?
However, before he could even put the words together, a knock on the door interrupted them. This did not cause them to immediately jump apart; they were supposed to be husband and wife after all, but that wasn't why they held onto each other. They did not want to part, at least not yet, though Belle did shift her head to look at their intruder. It was her mother.
"Belle?" she inquired delicately, standing in the doorframe, unsure of whether to enter or to stay where she was.
"Yes, Mother?" she asked her, quirking a brow.
"If I may, I would like to show you something," She interlocked her fingers and looked at the couple with a steady gaze. She paused, chewing her bottom lip, before mentioning, "Before you left, your grandfather wanted to give you something for your birthday." Another pause; her mother was making sure her voice was not shaky. She had to stay strong for her daughter's sake. "I would like to give it to you now, if I may. Supper is nearly ready, and I would like to do this before we sit down to eat."
Belle nodded, slipping out of Aaron's hold. She was about to follow her mother, before turning and leaning towards her faux-husband. "Thank you," she whispered.
Aaron nodded, and watched her disappear out the door.
15
Belle wiped away the remnants of her tears as she followed her mother down the grand staircase. Instead of turning down the hall and into the dining room, however, Nancy led her daughter straight, so the two ended up outside, in front of the house. Darkness had come swiftly, but Nancy had picked up a lantern on the way outside, and the two continued around the house. As she walked, Belle glanced up at the sky. Usually, she could see bright stars twinkling down at her as well as a large moon, the sun of the night. However, tonight dark clouds were the only thing she could make out, and she knew that at any moment, it might start to rain. Finally, the two women stopped at the stables.
Belle furrowed her brow, but remained silent. Did they need a horse to go where her mother was leading them? If so, why couldn't they take a carriage? Surely her mother could not have missed those large clouds that now painted the black portrait. However, despite her wonderings, she followed her mother deeper into the stables until they reached the last horse. It was one Belle had not recognized, but this really did not bother her; she figured their parents would get more horses whether she was with them or not. They were avid animal lovers, which was probably why she was so fond of animals as well.
"This," her mother said finally, turning to look at her daughter, but continued to pet the horse's long nose, "is Scarlet." Almost as though the horse knew Nancy was introducing her, the horse snorted, regarding her new visitor with her deep brown eyes. "She was…" Nancy faltered, but quickly collected her bearings. "Well, she was supposed to be your birthday present when you turned thirteen. Your grandfather picked her out himself from a breeder back in London. You know what a legend he was on a horse."
Belle stepped forward, entranced by the beauty of the animal. She nodded almost robotically as she placed her hand under the horse's nose, so Scarlet could smell her. After a moment, the horse snorted again, indicating that it was all right if Belle pet her. Nancy took a step back, watching her daughter reclaim the horse, attending to the horse in the same way Nancy had been.
"He told me that when I turned thirteen, that he would teach me how to ride," Belle said sadly, her back still toward her mother. "Of course, that never happened and I managed on my own, but how I would trade everything for just one more hour with him, just to apologize for any agony I might have caused him."
"You know he loved you more than anything in the world, Belle," Nancy said in a quiet voice, pulling something from her coat pocket and setting it on a rusted table. "You could never hurt him. Yes, he was devastated to see you go, but he was also proud. You know he did not want you to marry Master Commack. He figured this was your way of escaping." She paused, grabbing another lantern and lighting it with the flame from hers. "He also left you a note, if you ever decided to come back. He… he wanted me to give it to you." She cleared her throat and plastered a fake smile on her face. However, it did not make a difference, really, because Belle's attention was focused squarely on her late gift. "I should take my leave, my dear. We are expecting another guest, and I do not want to be rude. Supper should be ready soon, so please do not delay, hmm?"
Belle merely nodded, and would not turn around until she heard the stable doors close. Her tears finally released themselves and she glanced around. The horse, sensing her discomfort, tried to reassure her. There, underneath the stable's lantern, was a note. Belle could not sit down fast enough.
Aaron waited a long while until he felt it was safe to emerge from the bedroom. He readjusted his shirt and tried to remove the wrinkles as best as possible before heading down the hallway. Instead of turning to go down the grand staircase, however, he opted to do some exploring of his own. Originally, he wanted to slink through bedrooms and try to figure out what life might have been like for his new companion, but a painting caused him to stop. It was at the far end of the hallway, resting on the wall. There was an older looking man, with an oval-shaped face, a firm brow, and twinkling blue eyes. His short, greying hair was combed perfectly to the right, and his lips, which were prone to frowning when he was younger, curled up into a happy grin. He wore very nice clothes, but nothing too gaudy. Immediately, he recognized Brylee, on the man's right side. She had lighter hair, pulled into a tight bun, but she still had those blue eyes. A curt smile was on her face, and she was wearing a blue dress that brought out her eyes even more. She must have been serious, even in childhood, Aaron mused silently to himself.
Finally, his eyes rested on the older girl, on the man's left. Immediately, he recognized her as Belle. She must have decided to let her dirty blonde hair flow freely down her back in messy waves that framed her heart-shaped face. Her green eyes sparkled in the same was as her grandfather's did, and freckles still were dabbled on her cheeks and nose. Instead of a firm smile, hers was big and genuine, flashing her baby teeth that included a gap on her left side. She was wearing a gold colored dress that seemed to suit her nicely. He guessed that she had to have been ten years old when this was painted because both girls still had a considerable amount of baby fat in their cheeks. The thing that struck Aaron was how happy she looked in that picture; those eyes sparkled mischievously, and that careless smile revealed her outlook on the world. She probably could have been a pirate if she really wanted to.
A knock on the door caused him to pause. Before turning, he cast one last look at the painting, placing it securely in his memory before deciding to head down the stairs. As he followed the wine-colored stairs downward, the front door opened before him. Aaron felt his blood run cold, and he paused, thrown off by the latest turn of events.
"Ah, Commodore Commack," Barnaby greeted. "The Rochesters are expecting you. They are in the dining room."
The young Commodore entered. It would seem he was their mystery guest.
Belle's fingers were shaking as she carefully opened the envelope, careful not to break the seal. Taking out the piece of parchment, she immediately recognized her grandfather's unique style of handwriting. Before reading, however, she placed the paper to her nose, hoping that maybe she could still smell him on the letter. Barely a scent, but it was there; a hint of salt and cologne. She would have to snatch a handkerchief from his room before she departed; those always smelled like him.
To Pillage a Pirate Page 7