Pirate's Redemption

by Camille Oster

  Memories returned of his training here, when he'd excitedly prepared himself for a life in the navy. Now, he was disillusioned and distrustful. The values and standards he'd so willingly accepted as gospel all had a lie underneath them. It was this loss of integrity that had hurt. He had believed everything, believed in the superiority of the British character and the purpose they served, and it had been a slow and painful process of unbuilding all those ideals—until he'd broken.

  Now he saw youths milling around town, light and sure in their confidence—young officers, eagerly anticipating their first voyage, the responsibility and the sheer momentousness of being a part of the spectacular Royal Navy.

  "Were you one of those young men at one point?" she asked, breaking into his reverie. It seemed she could read his thoughts.

  "Yes, I was."

  "It must have been exciting."

  "It was." He didn't want to talk about it, or the disappointment that had crashed down on him after. "Your father spends much of his time here, I believe."

  "Yes, but we rarely came with him. He spends a great deal of time in London as well, and we tended to stay with him there more. Or we would go to Weicherston Hall, but Father always felt impatient there."

  That was what worried Joshua as well, that he would be impatient in the estate he would buy, but what use was it dwelling on it? He wouldn't know until he came to that bridge. As he had longed for quiet English country days for so long, it could hardly be that awful.

  Once past the main gate, the carriage pulled out in front of the main admiralty offices and they alighted. Joshua paid the driver, who turned around the main square and headed away, hooves clattering on the cobble stones. How long had it been since he’d heard cobble stones? he wondered with a smile.

  "An imposing building, is it not?" she said, looking up at the facade in front of them.

  "I believe it was designed to be."

  She smiled tightly as he urged her to take the steps to the main door. They approached the secretarial reception and informed the man stationed there that they wanted to see the vice-admiral. The man looked unamused.

  "My father would like to see me," Sarah said sweetly, but with an edge of steel, enough to make the man blink and almost quiver. That steel took Joshua by surprise. He hadn't seen it before; it was an entitlement that came with her station, an expectation that others were required to do as she wished. And the secretary did, blustering that they should follow him.

  They were taken up a large, wooden staircase where a set of doors led to the vice-admiral’s office and his numerous secretaries. Their guide urgently whispered to a couple of young men and a quiet commotion re-organized the office. "This way," the man said with an ingratiating smile.

  Another set of double doors were opened, leading into a large office with a massive desk and a table seating at least a dozen. The walls were mahogany, the floors were covered in rich, silk carpets, as were the curtains that framed the sizable windows.

  The vice-admiral rose from his desk, wearing dark-blue velvet with gold trim and a red sash across his chest, and walked toward Sarah with his hands outstretched. "Sarah, my girl," he said fondly. There was what Joshua assumed was a rare show of happiness on the man's face. "At last you are back with us. Your mother has been worried sick. Havencourt," the man said curtly, giving Joshua a quick nod.

  They had obviously interrupted an appointment of some kind. With a nod from his grace, the assembled men were all dismissed. They filed out and the secretaries closed the doors to give them privacy.

  "How are you, my dear?" the vice-admiral asked.

  "Well. I am here. It has been quite an adventure," she said, but her smile didn't quite form properly. "We were even shipwrecked on the way. If it wasn't for Mr. Havencourt, I would definitely have perished. He swam down and fished me off the very bottom of the sea."

  The widening of the earl's eyes showed his mortification.

  "A storm ran us aground," Joshua said.

  "We were the only survivors, but we were rescued within a day. Very nice captain. You should send him a letter."

  "I will," the vice-admiral said. A look of concern crossed his face as he considered her, as if he wanted to ask questions he felt uncomfortable voicing.

  Sarah smiled again, as if trying to show her father she wasn't a blubbering mess. "Mr. Havencourt rescued me from Isla Rosa—stole me from right under their noses." She spoke quickly and with a higher pitch than normal, almost childlike. "And here we are, back home."

  "I sent him to fetch you. I would never leave my daughter in hands such as those. I acted as quickly as I could. But never mind, you are here now, back with us. Your mother will be relieved." Despite emotion being the realm of his wife, again a flitter of emotions waved through the man's face. Joshua expected he had worried more than he let on.

  "And you were marvelous," she affirmed. Her father looked assured.

  In a way, Joshua wondered at the degree to which Sarah manipulated her father, with her modulated voice and obvious appeals to the man's vanity. She wasn't entirely powerless, it would seem. He was glad to hear it, for he also knew the vice-admiral could be a cold man who took no account of what others wanted.

  The moment of softness was over and the earl straightened. "A pardon, I believe the deal was."

  "It was," Joshua confirmed.

  "I have it right here on my desk. I had some degree of faith in you, you see," he said, his voice back to a crisp, cool drawl sharp enough to cut diamonds. Stepping away, he walked to his desk and retrieved a piece of paper. Even from there, Joshua could see the red wax with his seal pressed into it. "Here you are," the man said, handing it to him. "I suggest you return to your family and not cause us any more trouble."

  "A good suggestion, I am sure."

  It was time to say goodbye. Sarah's eyes were large and on him. For a moment, he locked eyes with her. He couldn't say the things he wanted to with her father present. He should have taken the opportunity to talk to her during the carriage ride, but he'd been too distracted by his own worries. Now the chance was lost. He was nothing to her now; had no claim to her in any way—including friendship.

  So, he nodded slowly. He had no reason to stay longer. "By your leave," he said and stepped back. It felt awkward and uncomfortable leaving her behind, but he had what he’d come for, had traded her for a pardon. It was irrational, but he did feel discomfort; it really felt as if he'd traded her. And that haunted look in her eyes just now would stay with him.

  Chapter 28

  Weicherston Hall could be seen in the distance as the carriage slowly moved closer to Sarah's destination. Two days of traveling for her and Mary left Sarah exhausted and also worried about how her mother would react. It was hard to tell at times, and this wasn't some small indiscretion; this was a large infraction. Granted, it wasn't her fault, but her mother had a belief that a lady should command any situation, and might even barrage her for not ordering the pirates who'd stolen her from turning around and sailing her back to England.

  Mary was very excited to see such a stately house and to now be a resident of one. Her fortunes had certainly changed, from a scrubbing girl at an inn in Boston, now to be a ladies' maid in a stately home in England. Her indenturement contract was null and void here, but it was a good turn of event for Mary—one she wouldn’t have achieved if it wasn't for the wheel of fortune throwing her in the path of a pirate looking for a ladies' maid.

  Sarah swallowed hard, trying to relieve the tension in her as the sight of her home fully came into view. The driveway stretched for miles before arriving at the main entrance of the house, as if to really draw out the anticipated unpleasantness that was to come. No doubt, it was designed to inspire awe for visitors approaching, a clear conveyance of the station visitors had the fortune to mingle with.

  The gravel crunched under the carriage wheels as they came around. Her mother was standing up on the steps waiting, her hands clasped together in front of her, back stiff as a board and he
ad held high. Some things hadn't changed, Sarah conceded with a smile.

  Father must have sent a message to inform Lady Lancaster that Sarah had turned up, safe and sound. Since her reunion with her father, she hadn't seen him. The navy required his attention constantly. Or perhaps he didn't know what to say to her. It was a discomfort between them, as if the experience she'd had put a wedge between them and she was no longer the little girl he had seen her as before. In some ways that was true; she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

  Mother was smiling brightly her hands outstretched as Sarah disembarked the carriage and walked toward her. Her face was happy, but then darkened.

  "What are you wearing?" Lady Lancaster asked, her eyes traveling down the secondhand gown she was wearing. "That's awful. Go change at once."

  "Yes, Mother," Sarah said. Her mother's joy at seeing her returned was replaced with her prevailing concern for the family's image and her mission to get Sarah married into an appropriate family. Ugly gowns would not be tolerated in light of either of those objectives.

  "Then come to the parlor. I wish to speak to you."

  It appeared her mother was unwilling to continue this reunion until Sarah was properly attired.

  Sarah walked past Mr. Johnson, the house’s steward, giving him a nod before taking the stairs up to her room to change to one of her dresses. Her time of free breathing was also over. She would duly be squeezed into one of her impossibly tight corsets that made her waist look pleasingly slim. They did cut an attractive figure, but they were endlessly uncomfortable to wear. Perhaps her body had gotten used to not wearing them and she would struggle to confine herself in one again.

  *

  The solitude of the room was welcoming, giving her a moment of peace. She wasn't exactly sure what discussion her mother wanted to have with her, but she didn't expect further gushing at her return. No, her mother would seek to devise strategies to limit the damage of this unfortunate imposition.

  Taking as long as she could get away with, she milled by herself before tugging the bell to call for help. Dorothy arrived and assisted her to squeeze into her corset before pulling it tight. When done, she couldn't breathe, but she would just have to get used to that again.

  "Welcome back, miss," Dorothy said. "We were so worried about you." Sarah would now have to determine what to do with her two ladies’ maids. Mary was likely being settled in somewhere, Sarah expected. Outwardly, Dorothy was probably more excited to see her back than her mother was.

  "Thank you, Dorothy," she said and the girl helped her with the gown. It was impossible to dress herself in these gowns, partially because she couldn't really move her arms, or bend in any way. The buttons were up the back. Dorothy then helped her with her hair. With every step in this process, Sarah felt her freedom ebbing away. She felt like a prisoner being led back and locked in her cell. It was morose looking at things that way. This was her family and her duty, and she needed to embrace it with grace.

  Were her cheeks thinner, she wondered as she looked in the mirror, letting Dorothy manage her hair. She hadn't really had a chance to see yourself in a mirror in quite a long time and it was a changed girl looking back at her—more mature and definitely more capable. Saying that, these are not characteristics that would be appreciated. Her ideal was to be young and innocent, untroubled by the realities of the world, perfect for a bride—a creature who lived in a world apart from the rough, dirty streets of cities and faraway islands.

  When she couldn't keep her mother waiting longer, she made her way downstairs, passing Mary in the hall, who did a quick curtsy and lowered her eyes as Sarah walked past. The servants always did that, never looking them in the eye, expected to be utterly inconspicuous. It had been the same all her life and she hadn't known there was any other way people could regard her—until she had been stolen out of this life.

  Making her way downstairs, she walked into her mother's parlor. The walls were covered in Oriental silks, bordered by gilded embellishments. The fine furniture was all spotless and the room smelled of flowers. Sarah noticed a vase on one of the tables. They were hothouse flowers, grown for their scent. Mother loved scented flowers. The tropical flora of the Caribbean returned to Sarah's mind, with their bold colors—beautiful, but didn't have that subtle grace of the English prized flowers.

  Sarah sat down and placed her hands in her lap.

  "That's better," Lady Lancaster said. "Now, at least, you look presentable. I hope this time away hasn't clouded your sentiments or your judgment. We cannot have people question your purity. Your behavior must be beyond reproach in every way."

  "Yes, Mother," Sarah said and looked down at her lap. She wasn't sure whether her mother expected her purity had been challenged during her time away. So far, she hadn't asked; she was only concerned with how people would perceive her. Sarah wasn't entirely sure what she would say if her mother directly asked her. It was an important issue and lying about it would probably do more harm in the long run.

  "It is such an unfortunate thing," her mother continued, casting her eyes at the window, looking worried. "We cannot have your character in question. We both know you can be impetuous when you're not watched. Such behavior will only lead people to question, and we can't have that. But mostly, we need his grace to still believe you are a suitable bride despite this. If not, then that would be disastrous, for the whole family. This really has been a vexing turn of events. No doubt it has been an ordeal for you, but it is the consequences we have to worry about."

  At least her mother did acknowledge that it had been an ordeal. Sarah tried not to feel hurt. She knew full well that her mother's goals overruled everything else.

  "Your disappearance was unfortunately publicized in the papers and everyone is aware that you've been gone. It would have been better if no one had known, but that is not the cards we were dealt. Your return has likely spread by now, so we will expect visitors. You must, of course, show impeccable behavior." Lady Lancaster stressed the last part of the statement.

  "Yes, Mother," Sarah said.

  Then her mother smiled. "You are a sensible girl when you need to be; you always have been. I know you understand we need to assure the Duke of Montague that you will be a credit to his family. Better go to your room and rest. I expect you will want a bath and I will ask Johnson to tell the servants to prepare one for you. I assume your father didn't have the foresight for such domestic practicalities."

  She was right; he had not. But Sarah hadn't minded; she'd only wanted to be alone to deal with some of the emotions competing inside her. Even though she had been back with her father, she’d felt completely alone.

  With a nod, Sarah rose and retreated back to her room, having gone through the whole exercise of dressing to now undo it.

  With her mother’s decree, she had no choice but to spend the rest of the day in her room—perhaps the next day as well, until callers were expected and she would have to present herself downstairs and act immaculately. She really wanted some air, but her orders were to return to her room and stay there.

  Sarah sent Dorothy off to help with the preparations for her bath and then walked over to her writing desk, where the two books that Mr. Havencourt had bought for her lay. Taking them, she sat down on her bed, letting her fingers run over the covers, feeling the texture of the leather. They were the only thing she had returned with and she was going to keep them—things she'd treasure. They would serve as a reminder, the only evidence she had, of that time in her life—a time when she'd escaped and lived a different life.

  Now things were back the way they should be. Unless the Duke of Montague objected to her now, the betrothal would be officially announced before long.

  There was nothing wrong with him, as such. He was cordial enough, but he was her father's contemporary, and married to him, she would likely be left on the estate in the country to entertain yourself, in a similar fashion to how her mother lived.

  She wasn't entirely sure of her parents' relationship; she rarely s
aw them together. Occasionally, they would spend time as a family in London, but her father was always busy, always seeing to naval business. Sarah's brother was still completing his studies at Oxford, so in the last few years, she'd rarely seen him either.

  Her marriage would change the house she lived in, but the expectations on her were the same, particularly walking that fine line of being kind but also cognizant of her station, which in most cases, with the rare exception, was to be above them. Portraying those contrary influences was sometimes difficult, but it was her duty to do so. First and foremost, she was a representative of the family, before anything else.

  Sarah's shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of her situation bear down on her again. No longer would she be free to make any decisions. Her mother told her what to say, what to do and who to speak with. After she was married, her husband would. Her desires came last on this list. And the fact that her desire leaned toward a beautiful, strong pirate was categorically unacceptable in every way. She didn't have the right to long for a man's touch, or to crave decadent kisses. That was not her duty. Her duty was to be demure, to act appropriately and to be an ambassador.

  Chapter 29

  "Good God, Joshua. Is that you?" Harold asked, standing outside with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets as Joshua rode up to his brother's manor. "Good to see you. Are we to expect the sheriff at any moment?"

  Joshua dismounted and walked over to his brother into a hearty embrace. "No, I have received a pardon."

  His brother's eyes widened. "You don't say? That is extraordinary, but most welcome. Welcome home. Mother will be beside herself."

  Joshua expected nothing else and Harold was completely right as they walked into the stately home that now belong to Harold. A screeching sound came from the parlor and his mother came rushing out into an embrace. "I'm speechless," she said. "How is it you are here? I cannot believe this. This is the best news I've had in a very long time. How long are you staying for?"