Chapter Four
The voice was that of the woman and it was perfectly calm and level headed. Barbossa turned back around so fast that he nearly broke his spine. She hadn't even moved from her place on the bed.
"Pardon, missy? I don't suppose you could repeat that again?" he asked, as if speaking to a child.
Confidently and smoothly, she stood and walked past the bed, turning to face him. With mild surprise and great interest, he noted that she was the girl he had seen in the window earlier. She, too, spoke as if to a little one.
"I said that it's not the wrong room. You are in precisely the right place."
"So, you've been sent to tell me that your father will be here soon," he replied.
"Of course not!" she exclaimed, clearly offended. "I am fully four and twenty years of age!"
"Beg pardon, madam. Then, you must be here to greet me on behalf of your husband," he said, giving her a bow.
"No!" she said, beginning to pace. "Must every man I meet be a complete simpleton?"
Barbossa frowned at this and released the door handle that he had been holding on to through this exchange. He paced further into the room.
"A 'simpleton', lass? Have you ever encountered any real ones?" he asked skeptically.
"Did I not, just now, imply that?"
"Certainly, you implied it, but I'm afraid that you are either lying or mislead," he said, walking closer to her.
"Oh, of course!" she said sarcastically. "And why would that be?"
Hector had reached a spot directly in front of her that he had moved to with the express purpose of intimidation. As he towered over, he leant down, his face several inches from hers and harshly said, "Because I am not one."
Despite his being so close to her and his threatening statement, she held her ground, not even flinching. Barbossa turned his back and headed to the door.
"You clearly don't know how to make a good impression," she called after him.
"Neither do you, your majesty. I'm sure you think of yourself as perfect, however, so I'll leave before I hurt your feelings."
"Perfection is impossible and if you weren't a simpleton, you wouldn't assume such a thing," she smiled.
Barbossa paused, his face curious.
"Have I proven my point?"
He turned slowly, wearing a satisfied grin. "I still deny your accusation, miss, but I can appreciate intelligence when I come across it."
"And though I still don't respect you, I am glad that you aren't a complete pig," she said, moving to her desk.
She sat down, pulling out a quill and an inkwell, and began writing on a piece of parchment already sitting on the table's surface. Barbossa, feeling rather out of place now that no attention was being given to him (not to mention, that he was in a woman's bedroom to conduct actual business), paced into the room, aiming for the window seat. As he reached it, he heard a click behind him. He turned to see that the girl had shut the door without taking her eyes off of her task. Somewhat satisfied that this meant they would be negotiating soon, he grasped the edge of a curtain and pulled it back to view the street below. His mind, however, was not settled.
"I don't suppose you could tell me your name?" he asked curiously.
"Victoria Sash, though I am sometimes called Victoire."
"That would explain the French woman who brought me here," Hector replied, recalling the rather unpleasant woman downstairs.
"Yes."
"And 'Sash'? Don't suppose you got that from Edward Teach, did you?"
"I did. Not directly; I stole it, if you will, but it being his alias is the reason I took it," she explained.
"To intimidate?"
"To disguise."
Hector turned his head to her. This was interesting. Releasing the curtain, he walked back towards her.
"To disguise what, may I ask?" he leered down at her.
"No, you may not," she reprimanded, turning to him with an offended look. "Now then, do you want to get down to business or not?"
Barbossa nodded and added, "I've been waiting for you, Miss Sash."
Victoria stood, moved to a space to the left of her bed and started pulling out a table that Hector hadn't noticed before. It was a rich chestnut brown, as all wooden furniture in the chamber was, and had gold inlay in the top with feet in a traditional claw shape. When it was out, it was placed in the centre of the room and closely followed by two fine quality chairs of similar design, both having padding on the arms, back, and seat of a light blue matching the rest of the room. Finally, she transferred her inkwell, quill, and parchment to the table and sat down. "May I sit, Madamoiselle?" asked Barbossa, feigning courtesy.
"Don't patronize me. We both know that you don't care if I want you to sit or not," she said.
Pleased that the pretentious act need no longer be continued, he pulled the chair in front of him out and sat, crossing his ankle on top of his opposite knee and slouching slightly. Victoria sat with excellent posture, her legs properly together and touching the floor, and her neck extended to look at her work, rather than her back bent over. She was clearly from a well to do family. No common barmaid or courtesan could ever hope to reach the level of refinement that she had. It was something that was obviously learned from birth. There wasn't the pretty, natural grace that a young girl of any class tends to have. Rather, it was cold or, in other words, more suited to the type of person Miss Sash was. After about five more minutes of silence, she inspecting her writing and he tapping his fingers against the arms of his chair, she addressed him.
"So, you are trying to catch Captain Jack Sparrow," she stated rather than asked.
"Jack doesn't deserve the title of Captain," Hector sneered.
"I'll not hear ill of any pirate from you while we are conducting business," she snapped. "Now, you are going after Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Aye," Barbossa sighed, slumping in his chair.
"Do you have any idea at all as to where he is?" she asked calmly.
"No. I came to you to find him. By now, he could be anywhere," he answered, exasperated by his situation which, up until now, he had forgotten. "Do you know what his mode of transportation is?"
"Last I heard of him, a dinghy."
Victoria scribbled on her parchment. This sparked Hector's interest.
"Don't you find it strange that he outran me in a dinghy?" he asked, leaning an elbow on the table.
"No, I don't. I am perfectly aware of Captain Sparrow's abilities."
"Then you know how to catch him?"
She ceased her writing and set her quill down.
"I know how to go about catching him. Whether my methods for doing that will actually work remains to be seen."
Hector nodded.
"Was there anyone with him when he left?"
"A man named Joshamee Gibbs."
"Would he have gathered anyone else along the way?"
"He couldn't fit anyone else in that boat," he scoffed.
"Is there any other information I should know about his situation?"
The charts and the Fountain of Youth briefly crossed his mind but he quickly suppressed it.
"Nothing that I'm aware of."
The room filled with silence. Tapping the feather of her pen against her lips, Victoria seemed to contemplate her notes. She stood up placing the objects on the table and began pacing. Her gait, as her posture, was coldly elegant. Her strides were small and even, the only part of her body not aligned being her head. She had, Hector thought, the potential to be quite attractive.
'A pity that she couldn't have been rebellious.'
"There isn't much information to follow," she muttered.
"Does that mean you can't find him?" he asked.
"No. I can still find him. It will cost you more."
Taking in, for the umpteenth time, the thoroughly rich and luxurious surroundings, Barbossa began to question, also for the umpteenth time, whether going after someone to help him was a good idea.
"Begging your pardon, Madamoiselle, but I doubt that's necessary. Surely you haven't failed to notice the condition of your estate?" he said, rising from his chair skeptically.
"What about it?" she asked, unsure whether to be offended or not.
"It's full of magnificent furniture, detail, and drapery. More money wouldn't be necessary for you and it would be better for me if I could keep most of my purse intact."
Another silence oozed through the walls.
"It will cost you more," she said, ending the exchange.
Barbossa groaned, "How much more?"
"I don't discuss prices out loud," she informed him, moving back to the table and taking the pen back in hand.
Quickly, she tore a scrap off of the parchment she'd been inscribing. After jotting down a few numbers, she handed Hector the paper.
"45 guineas! Are you insane?" Barbossa asked, incredulous.
"No," she replied, perfectly level headed. "That is my price. Take it or leave it; I'm not much affected either way."
She turned away from him towards the window, arms folded. Hector looked at her, then at the paper he held in his hand. His mind was flying. It brimmed with thoughts, all but spilling over. Her services were dramatically over priced. That was over a month's winnings, for God's sake! But he hadn't been able to catch Jack. Every time he had tried he was out manoeuvered, out thought, and out of luck. There was very little he could do at this point but accept the price. It would hurt his pocket book but he did have savings he could pull from.
'Hopefully, I'll still have some left over for a more than comfortable retirement,' he thought grudgingly.
"Alright, lass. I'll pay for your help."
"Good. We can start tomorrow. You may stay in my house if you would like," she said, gathering her things and putting the room back as it was.
"Oh, are you taking a shine to me, dear?" he asked with a grin, taking the table she was trying to move from her.
"Absolutely not! Who on God's green Earth would be attracted to you?" she exclaimed.
Hector had moved the table back to it's place and set his hand over his heart, "Now, that hurt, missy, it really did."
"Just leave!" she shouted, pointing to the door.
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of disobeying you, Madamoiselle Sash," he answered, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Once he was out and the barrier was fixed, he leaned against it and folded his arms. This was either going to be the most entertaining or the most frustrating experience of his entire life.
