I was surprised at my anger even as it engulfed me. “I am going to…”
Gaston was already going to the back door with purpose in his stride.
Sarah threw herself before us and a hand was planted firmly on both our chests. Her grey eyes held storms. “You will do nothing! He is as distraught as I. He wished to speak: to ask me of my feelings, nothing more. I am as responsible as he for what followed.”
It took the wind from my unreasonable anger, and seemed to rob Gaston of his as well. Now my matelot appeared only troubled, and I could guess at much of that. It had a great deal to do with his sister.
I had to address the matter with Sarah first. “I am… I have no pulpit from which to preach on matters such as this. But you are my sister and…”
She smiled grimly, and then with increasing warmth. “Perhaps it is a thing of blood.”
A door slammed upstairs, and we heard Belfry’s heavy sigh on this side of it.
“Mistress Belfry probably thinks even more of our family now,” she said with amusement.
“I hope it disabuses her of her worship of all things noble,” I said.
Sarah giggled. She quickly clapped her hand over her mouth to hold it in, but it was to no avail. As I had seen this reaction to a stressful situation before, I stepped on her foot. She swore, but regained her composure.
“It was either that or slap you,” I said with a grin.
“Step on my feet, please,” she agreed.
“Gaston and I must find Striker,” I said. “You should slip out the back. So perhaps we should escort you back to the King’s House.”
“I think that wise,” Agnes said as she slipped in again from the front room carrying her bag and Sarah’s. “They are speaking about what might have occurred. They even asked me what was amiss.”
Belfry had appeared at the base of the stairs next to her. He would not look at my sister.
“I do not know what to tell them,” I said. “If Pete gets wind of this, it will likely sunder them.”
“Pete might become very dangerous,” Gaston added.
“I will tell them Mistress Belfry twisted her ankle,” Belfry offered.
“That will not be enough,” I said. “I am…”
The door opened and Liam stood there, the personification of buccaneer wrath over the betrayal of a matelot. His angry pale blue eyes were on Sarah.
I pushed Sarah behind me.
“Where is Striker?” Cudro asked with amusement from behind the angry Scotsman.
“We were just going to go and search for him,” I said.
“The Hell with that. What ’appened ’ere?” Liam demanded with annoyance.
Sarah stepped out, and with a jutting chin, said, “I wished to flirt with him. I lured him back here to determine how… much he was committed to his man. He became upset with me and left.”
“As ’e should ‘ave!” Liam snapped and stepped forward to meet her. “Listen Missy, I know ya be Will’s sister an’ all, but we na’ need any trouble o’ yur kind right afore we sail.”
“I will not make the same mistake twice,” she spat.
“See that ya don’t,” he snapped back, and then became flustered at standing face to face with her. “It na’ be that ’e… Well, ’e be a ’andsome man an’ all, an’ I can understand a girl settin’ eyes on ’im, but…”
“He has a matelot, aye, I know that now,” she said in a calmer tone.
“All right then,” Liam said, and backed away to the doorway. He belatedly doffed his hat and shuffled out.
Cudro leaned in so that he blocked the view from the shop of the back room. “I expect we’ll be laughing about this around a fire someday soon…”
“Some year, perhaps,” I said with a grim smile.
He swore in Dutch and shook his massive head. Then he closed the door.
Agnes and Belfry appeared greatly relieved. Gaston was still somewhat distraught and deep in thought. I was torn between the need to speak to him and the need to applaud my sister. I laughed.
Sarah stomped on my foot.
“You were magnificent,” I gasped. “I wish you had not, though, as I feel in the end it will not be as you implied.”
Tears welled in her eyes and her hand went to her mouth to hold the sobs in. “Oh Will, I hope you are correct. And not merely because I am now… compromised. As I said, Shane lit a fire in my heart, but Striker actually warms me.”
Gaston embraced her, and she clung to him and cried.
I laid a hand on Gaston’s cheek and he turned enough to kiss my palm. His eyes were troubled, but I did not see the Horse.
We apologized to Belfry for all the trouble, gave him money for whatever purchases Dickey deemed necessary, and asked him to send those things and my coat around to our house with Cudro or anyone else who would be coming there soon. Then the four of us slipped out the back. As we walked down the alley, I wondered if the Gods delighted in making love so very difficult, or if the difficulties were actually a test set before us to measure our resolve.
Forty-One
Wherein We Experience Trouble With Women
Gaston and I delivered the girls to the King’s House to prepare. Coswold let us know that they had arranged for a reception to follow the ceremony, and that the governor would be in attendance. I was ill-pleased with that news, but supposed it could not be helped. We also learned that my uncle and Rucker had not yet returned. As it was the hour of noon, I wondered if they would arrive before the ceremony. I wondered if we would have time to locate Striker before it as well. To that end, we hurried from the place and made our way home to see if any had yet seen him. We found Cudro there upon our arrival. He reported that the others were scouring the town for Striker, and Pete was still upon the Virgin Queen, unconscious with drink. As all that could be done was being done, I was left with nothing to do except spend time with Gaston and prepare myself. I was pleased with the one, and dismayed by the other.
“How are we?” I asked Gaston when we were safely alone in our room. “I know events with my sister troubled you.”
He shed his weapons and sat on the hammock with a heavy sigh.
“Does Striker have the key to our manacles?” he asked.
I knelt before him with a heavy sigh of my own and rested my elbows on his knees. “I believe so. You feel that will be necessary? I will not leave you chained to a post.”
He shook his head sadly. “The Horse is not running yet, but I feel it is ready to bolt. It dances beneath me. Every thought, every event, gives it new reason to shy and threaten my seat. I find myself dwelling upon the wiles of women: my sister, yours, the Brisket, or the Damn Bride. Whether it is intentional or not, they wreak havoc.”
I wished to dispute him and say that women were merely creatures following their desires just as men were, and a man desiring them was what often wreaks the havoc; but from his perspective, I could see where the point was either moot or incorrect.
“They are a necessary evil for mankind to continue?” I offered. “And on occasion they can be delightful.”
He smiled grimly. “I do not dislike your sister.”
“I know. Neither do I, and still I wish she were not here now, or that I had left Striker and Pete upon the ship.”
He shrugged. “They would have met eventually.”
“But perhaps with a more controllable and less injurious result,” I said.
“True,” he sighed.
He rubbed the stubble upon my head and then my jaw and sighed again. “You must shave.”
“I do not wish to shave my head if that is truly a wig I spy.” I pointed at the bundle Cudro had given us from the store.
“I have never seen you in a wig,” he said thoughtfully. “I can barely remember how you look with long hair.”
“Neither can I,” I sighed. “Before coming here, I was blessed with enough hair that wearing a wig was seldom necessary. I detest them. Have you ever worn a wig?”
He shook his head. “Non. Non, onc
e, when I was young and there was an event at a school. They made us all wear wigs.”
I retrieved the wig from the package and proffered it to him. With a snort, he took it, and after finding the front, placed it upon his head. I resisted chuckling at the result. Under the thick brown curls Dickey had chosen for me, Gaston appeared so alien I might not have recognized him.
“Where is the glass?” Gaston asked.
I dug about in one of my trunks and found a small mirror.
He snorted with amusement at his image. Then he frowned. “I look like my father.”
“Truly? I have never felt I looked like mine, thank the Gods.”
He pulled the wig off.
“Sarah has grey-blue eyes,” he said. “They are not like yours.”
“She has my father’s eyes,” I said. “My uncle has eyes like mine. My mother’s eyes were hazel. Much like Miss Barclay’s, I just realized. And there is a further similarity in the color of their hair. I wonder if that is coincidence or more of my father’s strange thinking.”
“Why would he choose a bride for you who looked like your mother?”
“She does not truly look like my mother,” I said, thinking on it. “There are differences in their features. Many English women have light brown or blonde hair.”
He was deep in thought. I donned the wig and regarded my reflection. I looked like someone I had once been. That thought was oddly comforting, in that the man I was now was not the one who would do this thing. This would be a costume I donned and a role I played. It made me anticipate dressing, as the more I changed my appearance, the less of me would be in attendance at the ceremony.
I called down to Cudro and asked if he could be troubled to put on a kettle, since I needed to bathe and shave. He agreed with good humor.
When I stepped back into the room, Gaston asked, “What did you look like as a child?”
“My hair was nearly as pale as Liam’s, and I was small.”
He smiled faintly. “The children from the Damn Bride will probably look the same.”
I grinned. “I imagine they will. I actually envisioned them last night. I thought of little golden-haired tots listening to Rucker lecture them about fables and myths.”
This seemed to please him, and he relaxed back onto the hammock.
“I do not wish for you to misinterpret it,” I said, “but I am going to dress well for the event. I feel it is as if I don a costume. I want little of the man I am to be present there; I wish to be a character in some play.”
He nodded. “I understand.” Then he sat up. “But I wish to make love before you do.”
I grinned. “I will deny you nothing.”
We were not finished when Cudro knocked on the door to give us the kettle. We told him to leave it with hoarse voices and he laughed and left us. I ended up washing and shaving with tepid water; but it was no matter, as my heart was warm enough.
Gaston also seemed calmer in the aftermath, as he lay naked upon the hammock watching me dress. When I was perfumed and powdered and fully acquitted in hat, wig, fashionably-ruffled shirt, brocade vest, coat, breeches, hose, good leather shoes, and gloves, I turned to him and asked, “Well, do I look the part?”
“Lord Marsdale,” he said with a trace of sadness. “You are not Will.”
I was almost loathe to bridge the distance between one reality and the next by leaning down to kiss him before I left, but I could not leave without kissing him. He kissed me happily and then smoothed my powder to cover what he had mussed. There was a little still about his lips, and I brushed it off with a gloved finger.
“You should come see to your guests or they will worry,” I said. “Though I think I would rather you lay there naked awaiting my return. The thought of it will give me a happy thing to dwell upon until I do.”
He shrugged and slowly sat. “Do not worry. Lord Marsdale is marrying her, not my matelot. I will be fine.”
My appearance was greeted by our cabal with a number of confused stares – and then laughter, as they realized who I was. I finished strapping on my rapier and told them Gaston would be down shortly, and not to destroy the place because Agnes was not there.
Not wanting to risk the interminable business of escorting my bride from the King’s House, I went directly to the church.
Theodore was there ahead of me, speaking with the pastor. He gaped at my appearance once he recognized me.
“Well, my good Mister Theodore, you have not truly met Lord Marsdale,” I said with good humor.
He bowed. “My Lord, I am pleased to make your acquaintance under these circumstances.”
“And well you should not be at any other time,” I chided with amusement.
“Nay, I think I will be happy to meet you only this once, perhaps,” he said thoughtfully.
Further conversation was disrupted by the arrival of the party from the King’s House – which to my delight, included my uncle and Rucker. They both appeared almost exactly as I had last seen them in England.
Uncle Cedric swept me into an embrace that reminded me I was indeed small compared to the other men of my relation.
“Marsy, you look well indeed,” he said enthusiastically. “Here Rucker and your sister had me afraid you had taken to dressing like these mercenaries we have seen about town.”
“Then I am sorry to inform you that they are indeed correct, and this attire is but an anomaly, donned only for the purpose of this ceremony. I count myself among those mercenaries, as you call them.”
“Young men and their need for adventure,” he sighed. “We have much to discuss,” he added seriously.
“I know. Sarah has told me a great deal.”
He frowned and nodded before stepping away to speak to Theodore.
I embraced Rucker, and he smiled at me from beneath dark and speculative eyes. I could see there was much on his mind.
“It is good to see you, old friend,” I said. “We too have much to talk of, I feel, though I know not when. I sail the day after tomorrow. Unless you wish to accompany us,” I teased.
He chuckled. “Unlike your uncle, I read your letter; and I think I shall pass,” he said quietly.
“You have always been a wise man.”
“I would speak to you…” he glanced at my uncle and dropped his voice lower still, “in private, perhaps, before you sail.”
“I understand. I will seek you out.”
He laid a hand on my arm, and this time his eyes darted toward my bride. “Is this a thing well done?” he whispered. “I know of its necessity, but…”
“I am not treading this path blindly,” I assured him. “I was prepared to desert it, but the lady met my demands, as it seems she is more in need of this marriage than I.”
He frowned. “Tell me you do not trust your father.”
“Never,” I hissed with a grin.
“Then I am relieved,” he said solemnly.
“I also feel I will never inherit,” I added soberly. “I am merely making gestures to buy time.”
He nodded with sad eyes. “You might not be wise, but you have never been a fool.”
I smiled. “I wish to have children, and have you instruct them as you did me.”
He grinned. “I am honored. I hope she will prove to be a suitable dam.”
“If she does not, I will somehow find another.”
“Spoken like a king,” he said with a grin.
“One must know one’s enemies,” I said.
And then the pastor was clearing his throat and Rucker stepped away; and I was left staring at my bride. She was indeed lovely. She wore the blue gown in which I had seen her, with her hair demurely coiled and a lace veil. She appeared anxious, and her nod to me was curt but not disdainful.
We went to the altar, and Lord Marsdale said his lines and performed the necessary gestures. The pastor thought it necessary to give us his very best, and thus the ceremony was interminably long. I kept expecting my red-headed demon to burst into the church and lay the entire mat
ter to waste; but he did not, and I knew not if I was disappointed. In the end, I was married in the eyes of English law, but I did not feel married, not as I had that morning upon the deck of the North Wind, when the chorus had confirmed my matelotage with Gaston. Then I had felt the weight of commitment settle about me. Today, I merely felt a liar and a fool.
We were received in the hall of the King’s House by Governor Modyford, Morgan, Bradley, and a dozen other Jamaican notables. At the first expression of congratulations, I wished to smash the smiling face before me; by the third I wished to become raving drunk, but I did not: I would not find my way back to Gaston this night if I did, and I knew none here would help me.
I began to take great pleasure in that: the knowing that I would return to him, that I was not tamed as the surreptitiously sneering and smug faces seemed to think. I found it odd that the women, mainly my sister and bride, were the ones who truly knew how little had been gained this day in the name of supposedly holy matrimony. Whereas the men, especially the ones who had once had matelots, or at least understood the practice, seemed to think I had lost the most.
“The women, they always win out in the end,” Bradley said with a toss of his glass.
“Not if one truly loves,” I said quietly.
He winced at my jab, and I hoped Siegfried was pleased at that in Heaven; but perhaps he would be angry with me for poking at his former matelot, as I felt he had loved Bradley far more than was returned.
“But what is love?” Morgan asked as he joined us.
The so-called admiral of the buccaneers appeared comfortable and well-comported in his formal attire, whereas Bradley looked as uncomfortable as I in his.
“I believe it is the ultimate emotion God granted us the pleasure to experience,” I said. “I pity those who have not known it.”
Morgan frowned and then met my gaze. “I have loved.”
“A person who returns it in measure, or a thing?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed, but his smile was wide beneath his mustache. “I have been loved.”
Matelots Page 46
