Hellooooo,
I'm still alive! No aliens have abducted me. XD Thank you for waiting! I hope this update will be fun.
Chapter 6
The Duke of Yorkshire needed no formal introduction for James to deduct that this is the man he had to reach. The Duke's lean figure, surrounded by an impenetrable wall of friends and flatterers, stood out in the brilliance of the glittering hall that had so stunned James when he first walked in. From his place, the Duke controlled all, frequently glancing at the only other group that rivalled his circle where his daughter was flirting with her admirers.
James made out a brief glimpse of blond locks and a mask. Otherwise, the young lady was hidden. As curious as he was about the famous beauty, his attention never wavered from the Duke and another man at his right elbow. Lord Beckett asserted his position at the Duke's side, denying all others access to his confidence with a glow of surety that everyone else was wasting their time. James never assumed that getting the Duke's attention would be easy, but this was the only person in the room he could not challenge.
James took an observation position by the snack tables where he could see stay out of Beckett's sight as the later occasionally swept the room with a cold gaze in search of a slightest threat to his marriage plans. Two hours passed. Still, his stepfather showed no sign of vacating his position.
"How curious, I was not aware that anyone would come to this ball with a purpose other than winning Miss Yorkshire's hand, and the Duke's good graces and benefits this hand promises. Emptying the cook's pantry, however, does seem a nobler motivation."
It took a fair measure of restraint to face the reprimanding person calmly. There was a brief surge of relief as James recognised that the comment came from an attractive young woman not in a position to remove him from the festivities for such an offence. The ease didn't last as he saw his hand occupying a place by a nearly empty tray. There was little doubt that he had eaten almost everything on it. James coloured, unaware that this bout of shyness would cause the flutter butterflies in a young lady assessing him.
"If every attendee was here for exactly the same reason, than according to your logic you too should be courting Miss Yorkshire," he managed a reply.
Sandy eyebrow went up above the pearl mask that concealed her features as the girl evaluated his wit. A twinge of satisfaction coursed through him as she accepted the reply as clever enough.
"I'm Stella." Young lady curtseyed. There was an impudent tilt to her shoulders in spite of a deferring gesture. "Miss Yorkshire's cheerful disposition may not be the best match for me. I prefer someone of serious and more reliable."
"You're in luck. There are many candidates today to choose from."
Blue eyes, dancing with a pack of mischievous imps, narrowed as she questioned whether he missed her flirting or it was a joke. James had in fact missed her interest. He was completely oblivious that he had drawn a number of gazes from the present women, sisters and wives of the invited, when he entered, although he asked to leave his name unannounced. Unassuming, yet sophisticated manner which accompanied his every move drew admiration. He had no intent to impress, to flaunt his strengths in order to outshine the competitor beside him. He simply walked like a man confident in his right. All that prompted the young lady to observe him and eventually to approach. However, the conversation she hoped for never occurred as their interaction was cut short by his abrupt remark.
"You must excuse me." In spite of unexpected reluctance to depart, James swiftly took off to follow the Duke who took sudden leave of his guests and abandoned Frontenac to cover his retreat. Short, round man, didn't seem like much, but he effectively discouraged even the most persistent men from following with a few well placed remarks.
James, being apart from the group, fell out of that circle of influence. He slipped past the guests into the same corridor, in turn closely followed by the young lady. Completely unused to being treated such, she stared after him in lofty contemplation whether he had been worth approaching, but then gathered her skirts, pushing aside great pride, and sprinted after him, both annoyed and filled with curiosity.
"I wonder how you intend to get past the guards without my help," she chimed when it was too late to issue a warning. Two soldiers with muskets slung over their shoulders were posted at the double doors that led to the rest of the house behind which the Duke disappeared. They spotted the intruder.
James threw a quick glare at Stella, a step out of their sight, who showed no interest in being spotted by them as well. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, though something in them spoke that she wasn't going to leave him. Thus cornered, James forced calmness as he headed directly for the guards, recalling that he was no longer dressed in dirty rags that drew suspicion.
"Are you lost, Sir?" one of them questioned amiably enough.
"I do not believe so. Unless this corridor does not lead to the Governor's study," James tried to sound convincing, not that lies were his forte. "I've received an urgent summon from His Excellency."
"I'm sorry. We've received no orders to let anyone enter." The guard was unwilling to get into an argument with a noble guest, but couldn't allow him entrance.
"Perhaps, he's been too preoccupied to inform you. It appears to be an unplanned request. Otherwise, His Excellency wouldn't have left the guests so urgently."
"A servant who issued the Duke's command should have accompanied you to pass the word that you're waiting," the guard retorted stoutly.
"I cannot be held responsible for the servants' shortcomings in this household." James wished he could have been kinder. These men were doing their job, which he respected.
The sympathy, however, was one sided. This young man's confidence sincerely irritated Lieutenant Harris who after fifteen years of service developed a strong dislike for any individual who felt entitled to make his job difficult just because they socially outranked him. Thus, he was more inclined to hold his ground when he was right. He may have thought the servants lazy on separate occasions, but not negligent when it came to Yorkshire's direct orders. This person at the very least was a liar or worse. His suspicions hadn't formed, however, as a resounding crash and a feminine distressed shriek shook the area.
"I've heard a shot!" James exclaimed, bringing the guards into motion. "Pirates! Everyone says they infiltrate ports!" His intuition was telling him that this was not a true alarm as he made a great show of charging to the rescue since the guards weren't sure whether to investigate the scream or detain him. "It must be a kidnapping!
The guards needed no further encouragement since the 'kidnapping' sounded like a big scandal that put their jobs at risk. They couldn't allow the guests to be kidnapped from the ball! James kindly allowed them to outrun him, falling behind until he could turn and head back.
Gaining entry was only half the trouble. Beyond the doors stretched the usual maze present in any large, unfamiliar house. Weary of running into more guards, James searched the rooms methodically one by one with a small voice urging him to act faster. His disappearance from the rescue operation was soon to be noticed. He imagined it wouldn't be favourable, but hardly pictured the amount of suspicion his action elicited.
Having had the pleasure of a wild rush to the crime scene, the guards discovered a toppled candleholder made of blackened iron that was sure to create an effect of a cannon fire once it hit the stone floor. Otherwise, a brief area search revealed no signs of a struggle. There was no sign of villains or the victim or even a stray house pet. Lieutenant Harris even searched the flower bed below the nearest window as his suspicions that they've been duped intensified. Fresh memory of pirates that ignited the pursuit in the first place took hold of his imagination. The refined nobleman wasn't a guest. He was a disguised pirate who had an accomplice to distract them while the pirate infiltrated the port with the malicious intent to rob or worse assassinate the Duke!"
"This way, Ryerson!" he barked at the colleague, charging back to unguarded doors, full of righteous intent to eliminate the threat. The pirate had to be arrested for questioning. Better yet, thrown into jail and then searched and questioned. Unless he resisted as he surely would. Then, it was best to shoot him on the spot.
Unaware of bloodthirsty thoughts, James was alerted by the stomping loud enough to shake an Egyptian sphinx awake from a thousand years of rest and the bang of the doors flung open as the pair charged through them. He took cover behind a tapestry at the end of the hall where a few doors remained that he hadn't tried. The tapestry was a poor observation spot where only a part of the nearest door was visible through a narrow crack. He waited blindly as the guards' thundering stampede grew uncomfortably closer and closer. James held his breath upon hearing their heavy gasps as they stopped to regain theirs'.
"What is the meaning of this commotion?" The nearest room opened, arresting the pair into stillness as the Duke took in the messengers' ruffled appearance with sudden concern, questioning what brought them to his door in such a wild rush. "Is my daughter well?"
"Your daughter is well," Harris reported. "We suspect there's a disguised criminal roaming the halls. We advise caution, Your Excellency. He looks like a guest who insisted that he has an immediate audience with you, which is doubtful since you've passed no orders."
"You are correct. I called no urgent meeting. Regardless, I imagine there are many who would claim they must have an urgent conversation with me. They may be stretching the truth, but that hardly makes them criminals," the duke reasoned. "I ask that you practice discretion when dealing with guests. I don't want them offended."
"Yes, Sir," lieutenant agreed, although he looked more willing to shoot the so called guests.
The guards conversed in subdued voices how to proceed as the Duke left them with the permission to continue. James waited long after their voice faded. The door that led to the study was visible from his position. Only two steps separated him from the handle. Judging by the conversation, the Duke was a reasonable man who'd hardly execute him for entering uninvited, though he would think it ill manners. James hoped ill introduction would be softened because the Duke would be pleased to see his old friend's son. James vaguely remembered attending one event where both his father and the Duke were present, as well as their warm interaction. The crazy pirate must have known about that connection and threw his gambling dice on it. Otherwise, it was truly impossible to enter the man's confidence under such circumstances. The last thought pushed James to act. He brushed aside the tapestry, but rather than going forward he was pushed back by a musket jammed into his chest at once.
"Search him." Harris couldn't prevent smugness from spreading across his face. He suspected that tapestry as soon as he saw it and it was his idea to circle back to it. However, the satisfaction of gaining the benefit of surprise was short lived. The prisoner hardly reacted like a man with a guilty conscience.
"This treatment is outrageous! Unhand me at once!" James tried his best to imitate Edmund's ill temper whenever he was boiling with indignation. "The Duke will hear of this! I will issue a formal complaint letter to your commanding officer! You have no right to treat me like a criminal!"
Harris winced. His ears were growing sore of hearing high-pitched complaints. Maybe they weren't dealing with a disguised pirate after all but with a young man who was used to getting everything he wanted. He glanced at his colleague for help.
"I found nothing." Ryerson said apologetically. "No weapons."
Nonetheless, Harris didn't back down. He hadn't earned his rank by being so easily discouraged. "I'm confident someone will provide you with an inkwell in the detention area while we investigate. Several hours will give you plenty of time to issue that letter as well as any other protests you may have," he said firmly. He removed the weapon from the prisoner's chest to escort him, not expecting a devious resistance from the spoiled brat who with an unexpected agility pulled down the tapestry on top of them. Soft material entangled the musket like it never wanted to part with it while the prisoner lunged for the door and twisted the handle.
Locked. The luxury of knocking politely and waiting to be acknowledged was not available, thus James took the only available route, reaching the end of the corridor before his pursuers were free. His escape was covered by the clock striking twelve as light-footed he raced past the doors, already having learned the way. He slowed down the breathing and forced a respectable pace as he approached the front door where the guests were waiting for their carriages, startled to realise that many were leaving. He never noticed how fast the evening flew by.
"I don't care that it's crowded! Any carriage driver who makes their master wait this long deserves to be flogged!"
Irritated voice he had imitated cut through the crowd. James didn't need to turn his head to be convinced that his family was nearby. He hurried to escape the hall, also spotting Lieutenant Harris who halted at the entrance where he searched the crowd with keen eye and fervour that matched the best hounds.
James slipped away discretely. Once outside, he ran down the darkened path to the line of flowering bushes where he had hidden the horse. Rhythmic thud of the hooves as the obedient beast too tired of waiting sprung into action helped him focus on the urgent task of reaching home before his family. He would change back into rags, destroying all evidence that he ever had the chance to attend the ball. In the blur of the trees and buildings veiled by night the Jack Sparrow suddenly felt unreal, like he had met a mirage that would forever fade into nothingness at the first touch of reality. Acute sense of failure would haunt him later when he'll pretend that this night never happened and forget how briefly he had held an elusive freedom at the tip of his fingers.
