Cutlass

by T. M. Franklin

  Baines snorted. “I assume that would be me.”

  “Give Max the bag and try to act as if you like me,” the captain said, patting at her clenched fists. “And relax, for heaven’s sake. People will think I’m a rogue holding you captive against your will!”

  Despite herself, Rina giggled, the excitement making her a bit hysterical. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” She handed Max her bag and squared her shoulders. “Let’s go, then.”

  “Are you certain we shouldn’t try to go around the city?” Max asked quietly as they drew nearer, the sounds of music and laughter drifting to them.

  “No time,” the captain replied grimly. “This is the most direct route.”

  Rina had never been to Charles Towne, and after this visit, she really wouldn’t be able to alter that statement. Tremayne kept up a steady pace, but there was no time to dawdle, no time to explore the shops lined up along the street, not that many were open at this time of evening. A commotion broke out before them, a group of raucous men forcibly evicted from a tavern, and Max and Tremayne exchanged a glance before they crossed the street and continued on their way.

  Surprisingly, no one paid them much attention, but Rina grew increasingly concerned about the high wall surrounding the city borders, and quietly asked Jonathan how they’d get through it.

  “Have a little faith, Smith,” he said with a grin.

  He glanced over his shoulder before tugging her into the darkness between two houses. They approached the wall, and Jonathan scanned it carefully.

  “Over here,” Max called from a short distance away. They hurried to meet him at a spot in the wall that was apparently under repair. The fallen bricks had been cleared away and stacked nearby.

  “Hurricane,” the captain explained. “We’re fortunate the treaty talks have been successful, or no doubt this would have been guarded.”

  “How did you even know it was here?”

  He grinned. “Oh, I have eyes and ears everywhere, Smith. Don’t you forget that.”

  Rina couldn’t help smiling in return as they made their way through the narrow opening and across the nearly-dry ditch on the other side. With one last look back, they left the sights and sounds of civilization behind them.

  “Where exactly are we going?” she asked, noticing she was still holding Tremayne’s arm. She pulled away with a jolt, cheeks coloring hotly. He frowned at her, but answered the question.

  “Not much farther,” he said. “Just past Hampstead Hill near the northern mouth of Town Creek.”

  She blinked, enlightened not a whit by that. “Of course,” she muttered. “Thank you for the information.”

  He ignored the sarcasm, instead turning to Max. “We’ll need to secure horses for the journey back. I don’t want the Arrow close to shore any longer than absolutely necessary.”

  “Aye,” Max replied. “I’ll talk to the stable lad when we arrive.”

  They turned down a long, winding drive, dust kicking up around them as they walked. Tremayne quickened his pace. “It’s just around the bend.”

  Rina felt a mix of relief and anticipation that they had almost reached their destination. As they rounded the corner, the moon came out from behind a cloud, casting their surroundings in an eerie glow and she noticed the drive was lined by evenly spaced trees, leaves rustling in the slight breeze. Finally, she spotted a sprawling house in the distance, and her breath caught.

  It was beautiful. And even in the dim light, she could tell it was enormous.

  White columns gleamed in the moonlight, supporting a pediment overhanging the front entry. The two-story home appeared to be made of brick, although it was difficult to tell for certain. Warm light poured from the multitude of windows, and the glow made the house seem almost magical, a fairy tale come to life. She could imagine a deposed duchess living out her days in seclusion there, surrounded only by her prized horses and a fat cat or two.

  As they drew nearer, the front door opened, and a young woman stepped out, carrying a lantern. Max’s breath caught, and Tremayne muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

  “Who is that?” Rina whispered, but no one answered as the woman strode toward them purposefully, stopping just in front of their little group. She wore a simple cream-colored gown and was a few inches taller than Sarina, but slimmer, lithe, her body almost vibrating with energy as she bounced on her toes. Her long black hair was caught back from her face, the ends blowing wildly in the breeze. Large, dark eyes dominated her delicate features and darted from one person to the next, absorbing every detail. As the woman’s gaze focused on Rina, she tilted her head slightly, studying her. Rina fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. It felt like the woman could see straight through her; all of her secrets laid bare.

  The woman giggled as though she knew Rina’s thoughts. Then, with a soft cry, she turned away and threw herself against the captain, wrapping the arm not holding the lantern around his neck.

  Tremayne chuckled slightly and hugged her to him, his large hands spanning her back easily.

  Rina watched the exchange with wide eyes, a strange and hot feeling curdling in her stomach. The woman pulled back, looking up at Tremayne with a slight grin.

  “You’re late,” she said with a wink. She pulled away, lashes dipping slightly as she nodded to Max. “Mister Baines.”

  He nodded back. “Miss Eaton.”

  Then, a most curious thing. She turned to Rina with a friendly smile. “And you must be Sarina,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Rina searched for a response, finally opting for a stammered, “Thank you?” that sounded more like a question. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her balance. She determined that this must be the seer the captain spoke about, and apparently the two were well-acquainted.

  She couldn’t explain why that thought made her just a little bit nauseous.

  The woman laughed lightly, her head again tilting to the side. “Since Jonathan’s time at sea has apparently robbed him of civilized manners, I suppose I should introduce myself,” she said, casting him a reproachful glance. “I’m Charlotte Eaton.” At that, the captain snorted, and Charlotte rolled her eyes.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Charlotte Eaton Tremayne.”

  It took Rina a moment to fully grasp what she’d said. “I’m sorry. Did you say Tremayne?” she asked, turning to Jonathan, mouth gaping in shock. “This is . . . is this your wife?”

  Charlotte burst out laughing, and even Max snorted a bit. The captain looked scandalized, clearing his throat as he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. Rina could swear that even in the lamp light she could make out a slight flush of color on his cheeks.

  “God, no. Not my wife,” he said, not meeting Rina’s eyes. “Smith, meet my sister.”

  Christmas is but a few days away, yet I have already received a most precious gift.

  My Mary has consented to become my wife.

  - The Journal of Simon Alistair Mellick, 22 December, 1664

  “Your sister?” Rina’s disbelieving gaze moved from Tremayne to Charlotte and back again.

  “Well,” Charlotte said, “half-sister to put a finer point on it, but it’s no matter.” She waved a hand to change the subject, then hooked her arm through Rina’s, drawing her toward the house. “You must be tired after your journey . . . and hungry, I’ll wager. I had Cook prepare a light supper, then perhaps a nice hot bath before retiring, yes?”

  “Errr . . .” Rina’s head spun, still trying to grasp the fact that One-Eyed Jack had a sister. And a rather charming one, at that. “A bath would be lovely, thank you.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte replied. “I’m certain my brother hasn’t provided you with the basic necessities on that ship of his. How can you abide it?” Without giving Rina a chance to respond, she continued, “Oh well, you’re here now, and we’ll make sure you’re treated properly.”

  Tremayne cleared his throat. “She has not been mistreated.”


  “No?” Charlotte glanced back at him. “Cleaning your quarters? Polishing your boots? Really, Jonathan, is that how you treat a lady?” She turned back to Rina. “I don’t blame you for sewing his sleeves shut.”

  Rina gaped, uncertain how to respond. “How did you know about that?”

  Baines stepped up to her other side and leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” he said. Charlotte granted him a sunny smile, and Max’s cheeks heated. He rushed ahead to open the door, holding it gallantly.

  “Thank you, Mister Baines,” Charlotte said with a genteel nod as they walked into the home.

  Rina blinked in the brighter interior light, a row of sconces casting the vast entryway in a warm glow. A curving staircase swept up to her left, culminating in a railed balcony spanning the wall above and in front of her. Beneath it, a hallway led to the back of the house, but Charlotte led her to a pair of double doors to the right. A uniformed servant stepped forward to push both doors open, then moved to the side with a deferential bow.

  “Thank you, Job,” she said as they passed him. “Now, Rina—you don’t mind if I call you Rina, do you?” Rina nodded, but Charlotte continued without waiting for a response. “I thought we’d sit in here rather than the dining room. Much more homey, don’t you think?”

  Homey wasn’t exactly the word that crossed Rina’s mind. The room positively gleamed, from the dark, polished wood floors to the intricately carved furniture, to the sparkling chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling, candlelight reflecting off dozens of crystals dripping from its ornate arms. As Job pulled the doors quietly closed, Charlotte led her toward a pair of velvet settees facing each other on a thick Persian rug. Rina sat down stiffly, worried she was going to soil the furniture.

  Captain Tremayne, however, seemed to have no such qualms, sprawling on the settee across from her, his legs splayed wide. Baines opted to stand next to the fireplace—and next to Charlotte, she noticed—with his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

  Rina cleared her throat. “You have a lovely home. Do you live here alone?”

  Charlotte laughed. “Jonathan really told you nothing, did he?” She shook her head, shooting her brother another exasperated glance.

  He rubbed his forehead. “Well, to be fair, I really haven’t had the opportunity—“

  “Of course you did,” Charlotte said, waving a hand in dismissal and turning back to Rina. “This is our father’s home.”

  A door slammed somewhere in the house, and Tremayne stood up and moved to stand next to Baines as footsteps approached.

  “I assumed he’d be with Grace,” he said, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, shoulders stiff.

  “Of course not. He wanted to see you.” Charlotte turned back to Rina, wincing apologetically. “I told him you’d be here at sundown, but he’s always late.”

  Rina still felt lost in the conversation of half-sentences and obscure innuendo. “Who?”

  “Charlotte,” Tremayne interrupted in a low voice, glancing toward the doorway as the footsteps grew louder. “Perhaps you should show Miss Talbot to her room?” Rina could swear he looked nervous. Almost . . . afraid.

  “Oh, Jonathan.” Charlotte laughed. “It’s too late now.”

  And with that, the double-doors opened admitting a tall, distinguished-looking man in a navy coat and breeches. His thick dark hair was gray at the temples and caught back in a queue, the pristine cravat at his neck and heavily embroidered waistcoat speaking of wealth and taste. Sea-blue-green eyes—the same as Tremayne’s—scanned the room before coming to rest on the captain.

  The older man smiled, moving forward to extend a hand. “Jonathan. It’s good to see you.”

  Tremayne cleared his throat, taking the man’s hand in a firm grip. “Father. You’re looking well.” Rina realized his accent had changed again. In fact, he’d been speaking differently ever since Charlotte had appeared.

  Charlotte. His sister. And now his father. Rina wondered who would come through the door next.

  Tremayne’s father shook Max’s hand, greeting him politely, then turned to Rina.

  “And this must be the famous Miss Talbot I’ve heard so much about.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Sarina, Father. She’s practically family, after all.”

  Tremayne groaned and muttered something under his breath.

  “Ah, Sarina,” he said, stepping toward her and reaching for her hand. She placed her fingers in his, and he bowed slightly. “It is a pleasure. I am Sebastian Tremayne.”

  Rina swallowed nervously. “The pleasure is mine, sir.”

  “I trust you had a pleasant journey?” he asked, as he sat down across from Rina and Charlotte. He smiled kindly, but Rina couldn’t help but notice a tension around his eyes, a sadness she couldn’t quite place.

  “Pleasant?” she repeated, remembering the dinghy, the scrabbling through the woods, the walk through the center of town, trying not to attract attention. “It was uneventful, sir.”

  “Yes, well.” He cast a significant glance at his son. “Considering the company you keep, I suppose that is a good thing, no?”

  Rina was still out of her depth. Apparently, Tremayne didn’t hide his lifestyle from his family. Of course, with a sister like Charlotte, she imagined it would be difficult to hide anything. Still, she had no idea how to respond. Fortunately, the double doors opened again at that moment, and Job entered.

  “Excuse me, my lord,” he said gravely. “Shall I bring in the refreshments?”

  Rina’s eyes widened.

  My lord?

  “Yes, Job,” the elder Tremayne replied. “That would be lovely.”

  Rina turned her shocked gaze on the captain.

  My lord?

  He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor.

  “I think you’ve stunned poor Sarina, Father,” Charlotte said with a knowing grin as Tremayne fidgeted, hands first in his pockets, then clenched tightly against his thighs.

  “It appears Jonathan has neglected to tell her much about the family,” she said.

  “Charlotte . . .” the captain grumbled.

  “Oh, there’s little point trying to hide it now, don’t you think?” she replied turning to Rina, who continued to watch the interaction with confusion.

  Although certain things were finally beginning to make sense.

  “My father didn’t introduce himself quite completely,” Charlotte explained. “Sarina Talbot, please meet our father, Sebastian Tremayne, Viscount Coffey.”

  Tremayne’s father snorted, waving a hand. “Titles are ridiculous in this place, don’t you think?” he asked. “It’s a long way from England.”

  “A viscount?” Rina all but squeaked.

  Charlotte patted her hand, leaning in to whisper, “His great-grandfather on his mother’s side was an earl.”

  “An earl?” Rina choked.

  “Yes, but his grandfather was a second son, so he’ll likely not inherit that title,” Charlotte said, brightening as Job rolled in a cart carrying a pot of tea and several covered dishes. “Ah, some refreshment. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Rina stared at Jonathan, who continued to stare at the floor. She heard Baines snort slightly, and when she glanced at him, he winked.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Tremayne said abruptly, striding toward the door. “I need some air.” He left without a backward glance. Charlotte patted Rina’s hand again.

  “Go on, then,” she said resignedly. “I’ll try to keep the tea hot while you both settle this matter. Mister Baines?” She handed Max a cup of tea as Rina stood and excused herself quietly.

  She found Tremayne on the front porch, leaning against a column and regarding the stars with a resigned air.

  “So,” she said after a moment, “you really are a gentleman.”

  He snorted. “Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of the term.”

  She moved to a low bench, settling down behind him. His broad back blocked the moonlight
, creating a glowing aura around his form.

  “I don’t understand. Why keep it a secret? That is, I assume your men don’t know.”

  “Only Max.”

  “But . . . why?”

  Tremayne exhaled heavily, pushing away from the column to pace across the porch. “I never misled them intentionally,” he said. “When I came on board the Arrow, nobody asked where I came from. They all assumed I was like them—a man in need of work, searching for his fortune. Later, they feared me too much to question my background.”

  “Wouldn’t they know the name?” she asked.

  “Did you?” Jonathan challenged, turning to face her. “My father lives a quiet life here. He doesn’t flaunt his title, and very few people in Charles Towne even know of it. Job is the only one determined to adhere to such societal niceties.”

  “It’s hardly something to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not ashamed,” he replied, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the tension out of the back of his neck. “Not precisely. It’s only that my men have certain expectations. They need a strong, ruthless captain, not a coddled dandy.

  “And the fact of the matter is, I’ve left this life behind,” he added quietly. “My life now is the Arrow and its crew.”

  Rina watched him turn to lean against the column again. This time facing her. “But you seem close to your family,” she said. “Isn’t it difficult being away from them?”

  He stiffened, looking away abruptly. “Yes, well that is neither here nor there. There is no point regretting what must be.”

  “But—“

  “We should get back inside,” he said gruffly. “Charlotte will be wondering what happened to us.”

  “Cap—Jonathan—“

  “Sarina,” he interrupted, moving toward the entrance. “I do not wish to discuss this further, please. My past life is irrelevant. I only answered your questions because I have said I will not lie to you.

  “I trust I can rely upon you to be discreet?” he asked, hand on the door knob.

  “Of course,” she agreed without hesitation. “This is your business. No one else’s.”