AN: Story features flashbacks and flashforwards
Chapter 3
Scarlet was the only color that Rachel Palmer could imagine wearing to such an important engagement, well an important event for him. To his dismay Rachel had stepped from the carriage clothed within blood red silk and looking ever the part of illustrious courtesan that she had been. He had tried to argue with her, something he'd failed at and eventually relented when she explained that it was jealousy she was after and not spectacle. He agreed after taking a closer inspection of her person. Although clothed within the color of vice, the silk of her dress actuated the red of her hair and brought out the grey of her eyes. She looked the part of the ravishing mistress to his bachelor and indeed they would make quite a spectacle. Linking her arm with his and placing on a sickly sweet smile that she knew could melt steel they drifted up the steps and into the palace.
The sable colored dress whorled as her over laced corset dug into her skin with each movement. Gratefulness enveloped her as the orchestra finished and another couple's name was called from the court announcer. Smiling up at her husband she was overjoyed that her audience with the king went smoothly and that continued peace, however begrudgingly, was assured. Yet she still felt the resentment and ignorance of the English around her and in the very eyes of her own husband. For him she had given up her gods, her people, her language, and herself- and it still was not enough, he did not understand. To her, no matter how great his faults were hers were greater. She turned with her husband to the stairs as the next names were announced. Her smile fell as the name drifted to her ears and her eyes spotted the form of John Smith.
For three years he had been living as the shell of a man, a shadowy figure of his former self. Their end had disheartened him, he considered this his greatest failure. As he stood perched atop the stair case he easily spotted her. She was beautiful, the rich sable matched her warm skin and gave life to the room around her, but it was the richness of her eyes that he sought out. Down cast at the mention of his name he was denied this luxury and it brought him out of his revelry. As much as he loved…" loves" his heart chimed, he couldn't make her love him enough eventhen, but from this night he hoped to change that. With a causal grace he turned to look at Rachel, looking into her laughing eyes created the slow smile that spread across his face, it was this that gave him the courage to descend the stair case.
She turned swiftly and the ornate fan that had been clutched within her hand crashed to the floor creating an echo that was drowned out by the start of the orchestra. She had turned perhaps to flee but as sudden as the action started she stopped, it was inevitable-she knew she would see him here, it was undeniable-the rage at herself; it was uncontrolled- the jealousy building within her. Even if she could have fled the hand clutching her arm prevented her from it.
"Rebecca," her husband's strained voice called out.
But at this moment that was a name she did not want to answer to or be reminded of. She brought her eyes to him and smiled in reassurance with a will that was crumbling by the second. "What is he doing here," Rolfe asked in a huffed whisper as he looked in her eyes as if the answer would be there, perhaps it did. "He was invited just like you and I" the words escaped from her mouth in defense of who exactly she didn't know. "You knew and didn't bother to tell me." She nodded, "Yes" she had known, known well before her audience with the king, why had she not told Rolfe was another mystery, one she didn't want to solve. "No matter. It's been three years and… he never came to me." Rolfe noted the hesitation within her voice and it rubbed him the wrong way. Before any more remarks could be made the announcement of dinner sounded and the couple contented themselves with walking towards the banquette hall.
Rachel was duly surprised to the proximity in which the two couples sat, John must have pulled strings she didn't know he had. With this deduction she noted to charge him more on their next little interlude-if there was one. That's right; she had forgotten the true reason why she was here. "Well" she thought and committed herself to her job. In that instant she stroked John's arm bringing him out of the conversation with one of the aristocrats, understanding her insistence he turned and brought his mouth to her ear. The gentleness of his words tickled the satin of her skin as his hand hovered below her breast, "Is she watching." "Oh, he was a devil, maybe he should have been the one wearing red," thought Rachel. Not one to be up staged and always a good actress she touched his bent face with the expectation of a lover and rolled her grey eyes to pier at the woman in question. She let sex and lust seep into her eyes as she came face to face with the dark pools of Rebecca.
Rachel's eyes glanced at her full of gloating and self-indulgence. However, that's not what made Rebecca hate her, it was the look of pity that the women gave her which made her feel like she had committed some great sin. With anger she thought, "if anything, I have sinned against myself." She had never been this angry or envious, to her these emotions were hard to comprehend, but it was what she felt. She could not ignore them or their unchecked caress; it brought on the beginning of tears which she refused to shed, so she did the only thing she could do, she turned away.
Turning back to her proficient patron Rachel spoke, "Yes, she sees us." And with a laugh she added "you have hell on your hands now." John caressed her again and slowly turned away. Always thorough and ever confident Rachel did the next logical thing, she made contact. Her "Excuse me miss" had been ignored the first time so she turned to rather devious methods when she called "Excuse me, Pocahontas is it." If she had not been inflamed before, well she certainly was now, silently Rachel congratulated herself.
"Yes--," the word was drawn out and held venom, However Rachel held no contempt-she was doing this for her. With her smile that had on occasion melted the most hard of men, Rachel spoke with a nonchalantness that further enraged the woman, "Tell me of the New World if you will, John tells me so little of you." The strong façade that the woman had built crumbled and Rachel could tell. But Pocahontas refused to brake and this is what made Rachel understand why she was worth the trouble. This strong woman that faced Rachel was like an enraged goddess yet held a serenity and will for love that Rachel envied. Unknown to both couples it was the bemused request of one nobility that would unleash fate. As Rebecca's eyes bore the into the grey depths of Rachel's soul and her retort ready with the malice Rebecca's intended reply was cut short by the portly lord sitting to her right. Lord Covington had once been a friend of her husband, but within the world of men and trade friendship was a fickle thing. No debt can go unpaid and its seemed that tonight would be the night when both she and her husband would account for their debts. Rolfe to the covetous lord that was bound to humble him within the offered hand of cards and she to the captor of her soul.
"Place all cards down gentlemen… and fair ladies," the balding lord added. At his proclaim Rebecca raised her eyes to stair at the ostentatious woman across from her. Already Rachel had collected a rather worthy pile of jewelry form the nobility and currently she stared at the diamond solitaire that lay on Rebecca's ring finger. In this endeavor of collection and conquest Rolfe had already lost the golden dagger lovingly given by his father--to an earl, for three months twenty percent of tobacco profits -- to a lord, and now his ancestral home was at bet. She felt for her husband, the embarrassment, the crassness. However even in this knowledge; she knew that there was a fail safe, a way out, a bargaining chip that she and only she could fulfill.
With an almost certainty she saw John's eyes narrow in recognition of her thoughts. He knew what she'd been thinking, three years could not stop him from reading her or caressing her soul with his eyes, more importantly he knew that she'd accept his offer, anything to stay his hand. "But would he take it?" she nervously thought.
Slowly the four ace's slid across the table like a condemned man to the gallows and John couldn't for the life of him contain the mirth form his blue eyes. However upon John'smirth, Rolfe's eyes fell and hot anger arose.
"Well Johnny my boy…seems you've won an estate, rather uncommon of you wouldn't you say" the bald lord spoke between laughs.
John's low timbre answered, "I agree dear lord, but an estate is not what I'm after." To this Rolfe looked ill, his right hand convulsed and his words burst form his mouth. "What have you?" the anger shown through.
"Your wife"John answeredand to palate his small audience he added"a moment with her of reflection. I'm asking no more than an half an harmless hour."
"Alone with a stranger, a lady wouldn't dare" chimed a grey haired Duchess.
With a dark smirk John replied, "Lady Northumberland she and I are surly friends."
"Yes."
