"This one doesn't fit either." She yanks the stuck garment down, and Lizzie is so quick to snatch it away that Sidonie trips and tears the hem in the process. But now is not the time to mourn a bit of lace.
Above, the yelling has taken on a note of panic, and cannon and pistol fire has given way to the clash of swords.
"Devil take them all." But her voice is high and thin with fear instead of anger. Sidonie knows that despite his best efforts Captain Isaacs' assurances that his men would drive off the pirates before they could board have proven false.
"Here." Lizzie flings another dress at her, a confection of pale blue muslin and little cream ribbons. "Try that," and she is back to digging before Sidonie has even finished shaking it out.
The room is in shambles, Lizzie's beautiful frocks tossed about and trampled without regard for money or the sanctity of good silk. Sidonie pulls the dress up her hips and prays with a fervor any nun would envy. Her prayers are answered. It fits. Mostly. If only God had seen fit to let them outrun the pirates. Perhaps they can still –
Another pistol shot, and it can't be more than fifty feet down the cramped hall.
"It's fine!" She is hysterical, giddy with relief. "It's fine, Lizzie, it fits!" She wades through the fabric covering the floor to pull Lizzie away from the trunk.
The accoutrements of a proper lady are more difficult. Her fingers tremble so badly it takes three tries to fasten Lizzie's pearls around her neck.
"Not that it matters," her young charge mutters sourly, "It's not as if they'll let us keep any of it." She'll be right. They don't.
o.O.o
The pirates aren't rough when they take the jewellery – they even ask, a strange, pretty little play at politeness that rings so empty it echoes like a dry well. The jewels are no loss, not really. Assuming they survive this Lizzie can buy more whenever she likes, and Sidonie's borrowed pearls are of no concern to her, not when they are standing on the deck of black-flagged ship surrounded by men with hungry eyes. The pearls have served their purpose. They and the dress are expensive, and now their captors believe her to be expensive as well, that both Elizabeth Lindon and Sidonie Lauxenne are gentleborn ladies and that Sidonie is her older French cousin rather than merely her tutor and chaperone. But Sidonie thinks that were she a man and possessed of more courage she would have broken the teeth of the brute who holds out his hand for her wedding ring. Reluctantly, and with Laurent's voice in her ear telling her that It is just a ring, cherie she slides it off her finger. If she'd had more presence of mind, she'd have stowed it in her bodice. He smiles knowingly when she drops it in his hand, and Sidonie thinks that his browned teeth might crumble even from a blow from her own, much smaller hand.
That they at least wait patiently for the ladies to hand over their jewellery instead of pulling it from them is a small blessing. As Sidonie unclasps the gold and emerald pendant from Lizzie's neck she can just glimpse a sliver of land in the distance, and she is suddenly afraid they will not try for a ransom, and what if their best chance is to swim for it, but Lizzie can't swim and it's so far that they'd have to be mad to try it anyways –
The captain reaches for Lizzie.
Sidonie has never fought anyone in her life, save as a child when she and Julien both wrestled over the last of maman's cookies. At some point she'd been declared too old for such childish scraps, and the only other occasion where a physical confrontation had seemed imminent Sidonie had let herself be convinced to run. But when the Captain, a hard-faced man (later, she will learn Flint is his chosen nomme de guerre, and find it entirely fitting) still sporting dark splashes of blood on his clothes, takes Lizzie by the elbow to lead her into his cabin, Sidonie fights. She has no idea how, only her hands and her voice, which she uses fiercely, with all the strength she can muster but to all the avail of nothing. A valuable lesson is learned that day on the deck of a pirate ship: rage is a powerful antidote to fear but, more importantly, it means nothing on its own. Two men haul her backwards, kicking and shrieking, and Lizzie, bless her sweet strong heart, walks straight-backed and white-faced and lets herself be led inside. Sidonie continues to shriek even after the door is closed, whether from hysteria or to let Lizzie know she is not alone; the reason is irrelevant once a hand claps over her mouth.
Sidonie's teeth find fingers, and she bites down. Hard.
"Ow! Fuck!" Her teeth rend skin as he pulls his fingers free. "He won't hurt her! For the love of god, calm down, he won't hurt her!"
The arm around her waist is stronger than barrel bindings, and there is nothing to do but accept how utterly and completely helpless she is. It is all Sidonie can do to fight the prick of frustrated tears, to remind herself to gather her wits and think. If only thought had more strength against barrel bindings.
"He won't hurt her. He's just asking a few questions." Sidonie cranes her head around to look at her captor, the one whose hand she bit. It is a long way up to look. The man is a veritable tree, and just as solid, and she wants nothing more than to be let go.
"If you're telling the truth then you'll unhand me at once." When he looks wary of the prospect she continues, "I swear I shall not fight." For the moment.
He still stands too close, and Sidonie regrets her outburst. It would have been better for them both if she'd kept her head. Wasn't that one of the last things Laurent had told her? You can't change this, cherie, so find something you can.
"What is it he wishes to know? I am sure I can answer his questions just as easily."
"He'll see you once he's done speaking with Miss Lindon. For now I'm to take you to a cabin." The prospect of going below decks, of being trapped in an enclosed space with this man sets her on edge all over again. She can see him preparing to grab her if she goes back on her word not to fight. Sidonie clasps both hands tightly across her middle, determined to keep both fear and revulsion under control, and follows.
"You can rest easy now," he says, "No one will touch you."
Well that brings her up short. "Rest easy?" Her voice cracks open on the last, but some things simply defy comprehension. "There are a hundred dead men on that ship. Men you killed."
"Captain Flint gave those men a chance to stand down and they didn't take it. We didn't have a choice." He believes that, he truly does.
She stares back with naked disbelief, but he's already turned down a set of steps, clearly expecting no further argument. Sidonie does not bother. She's never been one for futile endeavors.
The cabin is a bare arm span and a half wide, with a small stool and a chest that seems incongruously large in one corner.
"You'll stay here for now. Food will be brought to you. If the captain grants permission, you can take meals in the galley with the rest of the crew." They certainly will not. "I'll have another hammock brought in. I know you'll want to stay with Miss Lindon. And you have my word no one will lay a hand on you." He makes a good show at being sincere, but Julien always said a man who insists too strongly always means to do the exact opposite. God knows, he was a perfect example. As much as it would comfort her to believe the man now acting as her jailor, experience has done little to make her question her brother's original assessment. A ship of savages could hardly be the exception. Sidonie keeps her back to the wall until he leaves and the door is closed behind him.
o.O.o
"He only asked me about Mr. Hornby, Sid. That was all." Lizzie sits with her legs swinging over the side of the second hammock. If she'd been in a more generous mood (which she assuredly is not), Sidonie might have called the cabin cozy. The only reason both of them are not miserable in the cramped space is because they are allowed to share it. The chest in the corner has been replaced with their own trunks, and they are both currently engaged in the task of altering some of her dresses to fit Sidonie. Luckily, Lizzie is grown and so they are of a height, and anything that cannot be let out further Sidonie can manage by loosening the laces.
"And he just wanted to know a little about the ship, and of home. Sid, he wasn't awful. His manners were even gentlemanly." She is too relieved, too eager to see the brightness when they are locked in a dark room – in short, too young. No one wants to believe a situation is as dire as it is. Sidonie allows her the comfort, for now.
In truth Captain Flint had been civil – more proud than any pirate had a right to be, but civil nonetheless.
And he'd asked her about Mr. Hornby as well. Robert Hornby had staked a fair amount of his fortune in Governor Rogers' venture, and by all accounts he is a man who sees to his investments personally. "What about home?"
"Oh just papa, and what I missed and what I looked forward to in Nassau." Admiral Lindon had led the fleet that ferried governor Rogers to his new home. Before it had been attacked, the HMS Northumberland was to take Lizzie to meet her father.
Captain Flint had also asked Sidonie about those very same men, and out of a fear of imperiling them both, she had answered truthfully. Without knowing what Lizzie had already told him a lie was too risky.
"We will be sending a letter to Nassau."
"And you need someone to transcribe it."
At the look on the captain's face Sidonie closes her mouth and keeps it well shut. A pirate perhaps, but no fool, and she'd do well to remember it. "No. And even if that were not the case, there are enough men on this ship with their letters capable of the task."
He passes a sheet of paper across his desk. Not a single blot of ink mars the letter, written in a hard, elegant hand. She will think curiously of that when Lizzie calls him 'gentleman'. Perhaps once. No longer. Gentlemen do not wear blood on their cuffs.
"I am sure though that an addendum from you, as Miss Lindon's guardian, would assure Admiral Lindon both of the reality of his situation and that you and Miss Lindon will not be mistreated. Will you do that, Madame?" Not be mistreated. So long as the admiral cooperates.
He'd asked with such expectation of obedience – hadn't even asked at all really – that her first reaction was the heartfelt wish to refuse. Sidonie had wanted so badly to deny them something – anything – so that she was not the only one to feel thwarted by god and fate. But this was just as advantageous for Lizzie and Sidonie as it was for them, so she kept her silence and took up the quill to implore Lord Lindon and 'Lord Lauxenne' to pay whatever ransom the pirates asked.
o.O.o
"It's not going to be enough. Just cause we have his daughter and niece doesn't mean we can force them to turn around and sail back to England. There's no way Rogers will let Lindon stay in command if it'll jeopardize his chances of holding onto Nassau." Billy's arms remain crossed, thumb worrying the hilt of a knife. The price they'd paid for leverage without much weight was steep. They'd buried seven men at sea that night.
"That won't be Rogers' call."
There was a time, once, when Billy saw his father as the most controlled man in London. Your father has passion, Billy, was how his mother put it. Uncle Jack was more blunt and called it a temper. But his father, every time someone argued with him – either for a lark or because there was a genuine disagreement – Edward Manderly squared his shoulders and kept his voice level, never yelled, not once, not even when it was obvious the other man was trying to get a rise – especially when they were trying to get a rise – but he never gave in, not even an inch. And when Flint meets his eye across the desk, no trace of concern for the lives he's so cheaply spent, and with unfounded confidence that it'll all just work out, Billy squares his shoulders and says, level as he can, "I think we all know there are ways around that. The man had himself declared governor of an island England all but gave up on."
"We may not have to try as hard as you think to force his hand," says Flint. "England's relationship with Spain is already strained. If Rogers can't return the gold to Havana then it will be ruined. We only need to give Admiral Lindon enough reasons to give up Nassau as a lost cause. We have his daughter and his niece. If we can get the gold as well, he will almost certainly sail back to England."
"And in the meantime," Silver adds, "I'm sure it'll make him think twice about firing on any ship flying the black that enters the harbor, which isn't nothing considering we're only one against eight of them."
To Billy it seems as if the real crux is the gold, not the two women they've now got aboard ship. And since Silver doesn't seem a bit surprised by the mention of Spain or the gold, Billy knows he must have had the same thought. That makes him wonder if Silver couldn't or hadn't talked Flint out of taking the Northumberland. And if it was hadn't, then he wondered why and what else he wasn't being told. Sitting in shackles in the Charles Town harbor Billy had told Vane it didn't matter that he hated Flint, only that the man was the surest means of throwing England's yoke off Nassau's shoulders. Trust in a man's character isn't necessary so long as you know where a man's desire is leading him. After all, if God hadn't wanted evil men in hell he'd never have let the devil have their souls.
Nowadays it crosses his mind more frequently that he needs a more predictable devil. But this is the devil they have, and the plan makes enough sense, so for now Billy won't argue until he has cause. For now he has repairs on the mizzen mast to oversee. The Northumberland had some eighteen-pounders and a cannon crew who knew how to aim. Now they have the eighteen-pounders.
Outside Flint's cabin his eyes catch on a fluttering of lavender near the prow.
Miss Lindon and Miss – Madame – Lauxenne mostly stay below decks, and on the rare occasions when they are seen, it's always together. Today is sunny, and Miss Lindon is balancing paper and board across her lap. He can't see what she's drawing, but she glances now and again at the ship's wheel. Madame Lauxenne doesn't look at the ship so much as the people on it. He's never seen a guard dog jump so much at shadows. She watches the crew the way they watch new recruits taken on from plundered ships – constantly and without ever giving them her back. Not overly subtle about it either. Billy's done the same often enough even if he was better at hiding it. Took a full month for him to let Silver slip out of his periphery.
She's staring up at the crow's nest, hand shading her eyes. Unlike Miss Lindon he never sees her with a hat, something an Englishwoman wouldn't be caught dead without in a place like this, or so he assumes. Fashion can't have changed that much in eight years. Maybe it's a French thing.
Her hand drops, along with her gaze, and Billy looks away.
We notice things that shouldn't be there; it's how you survive in a place like this. If he hadn't seen the outline of a pistol under a man's shirt after the crew surrendered, if the lookout couldn't spot a dark patch of coral near the coast… It's the difference between getting to keep breathing and not. The bright splotch of lavender at the prow is too out of place on this ship not to draw the eye, and when Billy looks from the rail all the way up to where Rollins and Malley are replacing the top stays, his gaze snags once again on the hatless Frenchwoman fighting a losing battle against the wind and an unruly cloud of black hair. She ought to just tie it back if it's that much trouble.
When the lookout calls, "Sails on the horizon!" Billy sees the small outline of a clipper but only after first seeing the lavender cloth billowing in front of it. But then the cry is taken up, and weapons are checked and guns are manned, and by the time Flint and Silver emerge from the captain's cabin the two ladies who shouldn't be there are hidden away below decks, and Billy's attention is fully taken by the growing silhouette of the clipper and thoughts of what prize might be found on it.