"So, Bertie, do you find the entertainments of Port Royal to your liking?" James Norrington and Bertrand Sparrow had long left formalities behind. The two men hit it off immediately and a strong friendship was almost instantaneously developed. Later, when James thought about it, he attributed it to Bertie combining the best of Jack's charming and daring characteristics with a deeply ingrained sense of honor and formality. He was the perfect bridge between him and Jack Sparrow. Best of all, Bertie, unlike Jack, did not provoke the conflicted feelings of befriending an ex-pirate. It was a simple, uncomplicated friendship, something of which James had had few of in his life.
"The dance the other night was very diverting. If I had known sooner, how many beautiful women made their home in Port Royal, I might have visited Jack years ago."
"Well, mate, if you'd done that, my good friend, the commodore, would likely have arrested you and thrown you into the gaol on charges of conspiring with a pirate. Isn't that right, Norrington?"
"I am afraid that your cousin is correct. Although that is in the past and best not dredged up again, unless we want to get into unpleasant memories."
"Aye, you're right there, James. Best to leave the past in the past, especially when the present is so very enjoyable."
Bertie chuckled. "I never thought to see you leg shackled and enjoying it, Jack. Why you positively have the glow of a man in love. Frankly, between you, James, and Will, it's almost enough to turn a man's stomach."
"Your day will come, Bertie. Mark my words. Someday, when you least expect it, a bit of skirt will catch your fancy and before you know it you'll be marching down the aisle."
"I would prefer it, if you would refrain from referring to my wife and yours as a bit of skirt."
Jack laughed heartily and took the opportunity to tease James. "Afraid she'll hear about it?"
Deadpan, James answered, "Yes. And you would do well to remember that after she had taken me to task, she would turn upon you and then hand you over to Val for further retribution."
"You have a point," Jack conceded. "Well now, it's time for us to get going or we'll be late for dinner. We still have to stop by and pick up young William. I wonder what tales he'll have today, concerning Miss Witherspoon and her attempts to run me out of town."
Bertie smiled smugly. "You will no longer be bothered by that little harpy. She and I had a discussion at the dance, and have come to an understanding. Miss Witherspoon will no longer bother you or Val."
"You really think that Miss Witherspoon will give up her campaign just because you spoke with her?" Jack shook his head in a mock sorrowful manner. "Ah, what is the world coming to when a man such as Bertie can so delude himself? She is a woman scorned. Granted, a woman scorned who never really wanted the man what scorned her, who only wanted his title and fortune, but still, a woman scorned. No wonder, you've little success with the ladies if you're so addled as to think that a talk would soothe her ruffled feathers."
"I have more than my share of success with the fairer sex and I can be very persuasive when I want to be. Believe me, unless you seek her out, you have seen the last of Miss Witherspoon."
"We shall see dear boy. We shall see." Having had the last word on the subject, Jack headed for the door.
Hours passed with all four women freely imbibing in spirits and conversation. At some point, the brandy had run out, and so the ever practical Val had suggested that they switch to rum. Two of the women had immediately endorsed this suggestion, with only Elizabeth refusing to partake in "that vile drink."
For the first time her in her life, Millicent found that she was truly enjoying the company of other women. It did not hurt that all three of her new found friends were less than conventional in nature. Millicent relished this unprecedented break in her strict adherence to societal expectations. She felt daring. She felt naughty. She felt invincible.
"Tell me, Millicent, what is one thing that you have always wanted to do, but never had the courage to pursue?"
Millicent pondered the question. It was not a paucity of answer that held her tongue silent, but rather that an overwhelming number of ideas came to mind. For so very long, she had stifled anything that her father might consider unladylike that, when finally asked to voice a hidden desire, she had trouble choosing only one. "Oh, there are so many things, Katherine. I should love to travel, and to read novels, and to sing in an opera, and to have a grand passion, and to ride, and to …" Millicent stopped at the other women's laughter. For a moment she bristled, certain that they were laughing at her. Then, she saw the indulgent smiles on their faces, and joined in their laughter.
Sympathetically, Elizabeth observed, "It's no wonder you have always been surly. Does your father permit you no liberties at all?"
"He means well. He truly does. He just wants me safe and protected."
"What do you want, Millicent?"
"I want to experience life. To spread my wings." In her exuberance, Millicent flung her arms wide. Unfortunately, she forgot about the tea cup of rum that she was holding and it went sailing across the room and landed with a crash against the wall. For a moment, all four women stared at the shattered remains in horror, and then they broke into uncontrollable laughter that lasted for several minutes.
When at last she gained her breath, Val kindly told her, "I must say, Millicent, that you display a great amount of enthusiasm. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your new outlook on life. And I know just what will assist you on your way. Tomorrow, you can come by in the morning and we can begin your horseback riding lessons."
Katherine chimed in. "And you can borrow as many of my books as you like. I have a lot of serious works but I do think that you would like Mr. Shakespeare's comedies. I even have some novels by Mrs. Radcliff. They are rather silly, but a great deal of fun to read."
"I am afraid that leaves me with opera, of which I know next to nothing. However, I could teach you to fence or sail if you like," Elizabeth offered.
The suggestions left Millicent speechless. She furtively wiped away the tears that filled her eyes. Never had she expected to enjoy such camaraderie with any women, let alone these three. She gave them a watery smile. "Thank you, ladies. You are far kinder to me than I have any right to expect. Of course, that will not prevent me from taking you up on your offers."
"Then it is settled. Tomorrow, you will begin your new life, Millicent. Be sure to wear something that you can ride in. You would not happen to own a pair of breeches?"
"No, but I have a riding habit. Why father purchased it for me, I'll never know, but it is very beautiful."
'No, that will not do. Don't fret; I shall manage to find you something more suitable."
A puzzled look crossed Millicent's face. "What could be more suitable than a riding habit?" Then, a memory surfaced and she smiled. "How stupid of me, you mean to teach me to ride astride. Oh, how deliciously wicked. I remember Mr. Sparrow saying that many women prefer the astride position for long hard rides. Is it really that much more enjoyable?"
Val, Katherine, and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances. Miss Witherspoon was refreshingly naïve. At some point, she would have to be educated, but today was not the day and a front parlor was not the place. This fact was reaffirmed when, with no preamble, the door opened and four men strode in.
For a moment, four pairs of eyes silently assessed the situation; the somewhat disheveled appearances of the women and the empty bottle of brandy and half empty bottle of rum. Then in a sotto voice, Jack gleefully observed, "It would appear as if you greatly overestimated your powers of persuasion, Bertie. For, if my eyes do not deceive me, that is the estimable Miss Witherspoon."
Val quickly stood and interjected before Jack could voice the unkind comment hovering on his lips. "Jack, Miss Witherspoon and I have mended our fences. All is forgiven and in the past. She is a guest in our house and I would have you treat her as such." The last was said with a note of warning in her voice.
Jack, Bertie, Will, and James all had difficulty digesting this bit of information. Yet, the proof was before their eyes. All four women appeared incredibly cozy with each other, and Kat, Val, and Elizabeth hovered protectively about Millicent, looking like lionesses defending a cub.
Used to the vagaries of women, Jack shrugged his shoulders and merely asked, "Will Miss Witherspoon be joining us for dinner then?"
At these words, Millicent jumped up, wobbled unsteadily on her feet, and collapsed back onto the settee. "Oh my gracious, I completely lost track of the time. Father will be frantic with worry. I must head home at once." Once again she stood, this time she managed to keep her balance. Slowly and unsteadily, she began walking towards the door. It was odd how difficult walking had suddenly become, of course it would help if the room would stop spinning.
James politely grasped her elbow in an attempt to steady her. "Miss Witherspoon, allow me to escort you to your carriage." He was disconcerted when this offer was met with a peal of giggles from the young woman in question.
"I am afraid, Commodore Norrington, that you should have decidedly long walk and miss your dinner. I came by foot and have no carriage waiting." Airily she waved a hand about, "Do not let it disturb you. I am more than cap... capa…ca…" Millicent was having a hard time finishing her sentence because of another attack of the hiccups. Taking deep breath, she quickly blurted out, "Capable of seeing myself home. After all, I am a grown and independent woman."
Norrington gave his wife a censorious look. "Exactly how much she did imbibe? Really, Kat, you should know better than to give hard spirits to a young woman. Not everyone has your constitution."
Kat's temper flared at the unjust accusation. "I was not the only one in the room, James. Why do you assume that it was me? Beside, she stopped drinking quite awhile ago, when we ran out of brandy. She tried the rum but it was not to her taste. I daresay that she is just having a delayed reaction."
With a heavy sigh, James conceded, "Perhaps I was too quick to blame. At any rate, she can not leave unescorted. Val, please excuse me, but I think it best that I see her home in one of your carriages."
"I'll go with James. Val, we will just have reschedule our dinner for another night."
Bertie had been silently watching the interchange while keeping a close eye on the hiccuping Miss Witherspoon. She seemed a trifle steadier on her feet, but it was obvious that she would never make it home without assistance. Suppressing a shiver of distaste at what he knew he must do, Bertie voiced, "Let me see her home. After all, I am a last minute addition to the party and the odd man out. No need for all of your plans to be aborted."
Millicent planted her hands on her hips and objected, "No. I shall not accompany such a bully. Besides, it would be most improper." Her own words rang in her ears and then Millicent smiled a small smile. It would be improper for her to be alone in a carriage with a man. This could be her very first act as a newly independent and daring young woman. What a terrific opportunity. She had the chance to engage in a mildly scandalous behavior with no real fear for her virtue. Mr. Bertrand Sparrow made his dislike of her patently clear, so there was no danger of him making improper advances. "On second thought, I think it a grand idea. Yes, you may escort me home, Mr. Sparrow." The pronouncement was made with the air of a queen granting a lowly subject a great favor. Unfortunately, the loud hiccup at the end marred the air of regal condescension.
Bertrand surveyed her with narrowed eyes. He had not missed her small smile and was positive that it meant that Miss Millicent Witherspoon was once again up to no good. Val, Elizabeth, and Katherine were foolish to trust this viper. With a deliberately derisive note in his voice, Bertrand bowed and said, "You do me a great honor, Miss Witherspoon. Make your goodbyes and I shall see to the carriage."
As he strode from the room, Millicent stuck her tongue out at his back. What a truly obnoxious man. Well, she would not allow him to ruin the happy afternoon that she had just spent with her new friends. Several minutes later, with warm wishes and a promise to return in the morning for her riding lesson, Millicent climbed into the carriage with Jack's assistance.
The carriage ride proceeded in frosty silence with only the occasional hiccup from Millicent breaking the quiet. Impatiently, Bertie bit out, "Plug your nose and hold your breath."
"What?"
"Plug your nose and hold your breath for a count of thirty. It will rid you of the hiccups."
Millicent searched his face for signs that he was having fun at her expense. Finding none, she decided to take his advice. When after the count of thirty, she drew in a ragged breath and was pleased to discover that the remedy had indeed worked. Begrudgingly she thanked him.
"Don't mention it, princess. I was growing tired of them myself."
"Why do you insist on calling me that?"
"Why, princess, it is your goal to marry a titled gentleman, is it not? Why sell yourself short?"
"Do not be absurd. I am aware that I shall never marry a prince. But you needn't be so nasty, it is entirely feasible that I could attract another earl or maybe even a duke."
Bertie jerked the reins so hard that the horse whinnied in protest. Furiously, he turned to her, "Who told you…" In the nick of time, common sense prevailed and he realized that she could not possibly know. The only person in Port Royal in possession of that information was Jack and Jack had not even told Val. It had merely been an innocent boast from a vain young woman. Unaccountably annoyed by her open admission that she was willing to sell herself to the highest bidder, he drawled insultingly, "Well then, I shall have to address you as duchess. After all, we would not want to give you airs above your station, would we?"
"I would prefer that you not address me at all, Mr. Sparrow. "
Millicent emphasized her statement by turning so that her back was to him. Bertie smiled for that was perfectly fine with him. He never should have even started a conversation with her. The sooner he discharged this duty, the better. Millicent Witherspoon was a spoiled child who could not be trusted to keep her word. It was no small measure of relief when, less than ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house. Having had manners drilled into him since childhood, he jumped out to assist Millicent from the carriage. However, when he would have taken her hand, she jerked it away and haughtily informed him, "I am able to disembark without any help from the likes of you." With a disdainful toss of her head, she lifted a foot and then spoiled the effect by falling face forward towards the ground. It was solely quick action on Bertrand's part that prevented her from injury.
She toppled from the carriage and with a thud landed against his chest. He had caught her in his embrace before any damage was done. Winded, she lay quietly pinned to him for a moment, before becoming aware of just how closely she was plastered to his body. He was so much taller her than her, that her feet did not even touch the ground. She gave him an outraged look and he slowly loosened his hold, so that she slid down the length of him and her feet found earth.
When he made no further effort to release her, Millicent placed her hands against his chest and tried to push him away. She felt the vibrations of his chuckle against her palms. "Take your hands off of me, Mr. Sparrow."
"It would seem as if I just saved you from a nasty tumble, duchess. I would think that a reward was in order." Mentally, Bertie kicked himself. What the hell was he doing, flirting with this chit? Then again, the feel of her pliable body pressed against his did rather belie the categorization of her as a child. Inexplicably, Bertie found himself fascinated by this disheveled and slightly inebriated version of Miss Witherspoon. The fascination increased as she tilted her head up to glare at him.
Millicent was about to deliver a sharp reprimand when her gaze fastened on his lips. Her heart skittered and she felt an unbearable curiosity to know what his mouth would feel like. Unconsciously, Millicent leaned a little more into his embrace. She pried her gaze from his tempting lips and looked directly into his eyes. Staring into the dark blue depths, Millicent recognized a familiar sight; Bertrand Sparrow desired to kiss her. Millicent awaited the normal feeling of revulsion and was surprised when it did not arrive.
Without thought, the tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. She saw a flare of something wild spark in his eyes. Disconcerted, her eyelids fluttered closed, shutting out the disturbing vision. Millicent could feel the warmth of Bertrand's breath on her cheek as he leaned in closer. A peep snuck beneath her lashes, revealed that his mouth was about to settle upon hers. Then, the momentary spell was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a maid calling, "There you are Miss Witherspoon. Your father was about to send out a search party for you."
Millicent jerked from his embrace. "Let go of me, you brute. How dare you maul at me in such a fashion."
"Maul at you? Duchess, I can read the signs as well as any man, and you all but begged me to kiss you."
"What are you talking about? Signs, what signs?"
"The fluttering of eyelashes, the demure look, and the subtle drawing attention to your lips by licking them, face it, Miss Witherspoon, you wanted me to kiss you and you still do." Bertie hushed the voice inside his head, which sounded suspiciously like his mother, taking him to task for speaking so rudely to a lady.
Millicent was flummoxed. All the tricks he'd accused of her employing were, in fact, weapons in her arsenal which she had utilized on several occasions. But this time, she could not recall making a conscious decision to do so. Bertrand Sparrow was a man dangerous to her peace of mind and it was time to put him in his place for good. "You flatter yourself, Mr. Sparrow. I would never demean myself with a commoner like you. Now, why don't you run along a find some tavern wench? That type of woman is more suited to a man in your station in life." Without giving him a chance to respond, she ran up the stairs and through the open door, ordering the maid to shut it.
Ignoring the servant's worried protests, Millicent made for her suite and slammed the door shut. Breathing heavily, she leaned against it. She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the events that had just occurred. Bertrand Sparrow had been about to kiss her. Kiss her in broad daylight and in the middle of the street. Worse yet, she had wanted him to kiss her!
Millicent forced herself to calm down and look at things rationally. It must have been the spirits. There was no other logical explanation; for there was no possible way that she was attracted to the dratted man. No way, that he, of all of the men who had courted her, should cause her to feel such stirrings of longing. It had to have been the drink. Never again would she indulge, if this was the result. Luckily, this time she had managed to escape with minimal damage done, but next time she might not be so fortunate.
