=) Agnes, thank you for great reviews. Only a beyond modest author would be tired of receiving such positive feedback. I'm vain enough to like them and have enough sense of humour to admit to such fault.
Chapter 10
Lord Beckett reached home plagued by hardly joy-inducing thoughts that creep into the lone traveller's mind unbidden. The road convinced him that James and the ever thieving Sparrow plotted against him together. Beckett was prepared to shake the soul out of the boy to find out what as he threw the front door open without waiting for a servant. A dull and familiar mug of a man ever eager to please didn't greet him. Instead, a scarecrow draped in a shapeless dress with a lampshade worn over its head dragged an overflowing sack across the wide hall towards another of a loathsome disposition that possessed woman's body and a balding man's head. They were dirtily laughing at something. The second man's approving grin vanished as he heard the intruder. He dropped an armful of priceless Indian vases and pulled out a weapon.
Avoiding a well aimed bullet, Beckett made an undignified jump that carried him outside where he chased the departing carriage, screaming for it to wait. "Fort!" he shouted as he plopped onto the seat, figuring out that his guards have been neutralized for the robbers to be strutting around the place so impudently. Frightened driver made a sharp turn that nearly tipped them over and the carriage flew out the gates where it rammed into the night patrol.
"There are two armed robbers inside the mansion." Beckett regained control the fastest once he had someone to command. "Arrest them at once!"
The sergeant threw him an unfriendly look. He'd been startled by two rearing beasts that charged his party out of nowhere, which was followed by another one in a human form that threw around such orders. There wasn't time, however, to show this peacock who gave orders on his patrol route. The sergeant grudgingly followed the call of duty. "Follow me, men!" he shouted as he charged towards the mansion where two scary abominations were up on the stairs dragging between them some sack. "Take them alive!" he called out, undeterred by strange sight.
As his men flooded the stairs, the pirates swung the sack and released it into the crowd, sending everyone tumbling down the steps. Hitching all skirts up high, they expertly jumped over the pile up and fled towards the street. The sergeant fired at the escaping pair.
Loud bang terrified a large cat that was peering down from a tree at the commotion below. Spitting, puffed up furball fell off the branch on top of the carriage driver, making him think that devil in person came for his soul.
"Aiiii!" screamed the man as he threw off his hat with an attached cat, in a wild rush to abandon his seat. Beckett too thought it best to get out of the way as the pirates hopped into the carriage. Terrified horses broke into gallop. Two awakened dogs sprung out of the garden, drawn to give chase to a rolling, rattling, meowing box.
"Faster!" yelled Ragetti. He dislodged a wavering lantern and threw it at the pursuers.
"Meoooowwww!" yowled the cat, deadly attached by the claws to the carriage.
"Oooooouuuuuuu!" echoed the dogs, frightening the horses out of control.
In the distance a bell tolled in the moonlight.
The sergeant spat as the procession rolled out of sight.
Mercer lurked at the entrance, evaluating each guest with a penetrating to the bones stare that would have robbed them of sleep for a month had they been aware of it. If anyone wanted to make their move, they'd pass through those doors. Mercer judged correctly that only the Duke was powerful enough to contend with Lord Beckett. Thus, the meddler would be forced to appeal for his help. So far, his vigil had not been rewarded. No one was suspicious enough.
Meanwhile, the most suspicious individual was right behind him, content to observe the assassin, hidden beneath a lavish wig. Jack Sparrow attended for the sole purpose of drawing Beckett away from the Duke only to discover that Beckett never showed up. Puzzled, he stumbled towards the front door where he accidentally saw Mercer. The blackguard's presence was far too suspicious, drawing Jack to follow him for the safekeeping of their plan the ruining of which wouldn't be a problem for a thoroughly experienced in the matters of intimidation, constrain and coercion terror of a man.
His hunch proved right. Mercer stirred as a young man he hadn't seen before but who looked familiar entered. The assassin crept forward for a better view. He had seen that tall, awfully slim figure before. Recognition set in and he made several gliding steps towards the boy, plotting something. Circumstances, however, dictated that he must wait.
They weren't the only ones keeping watch. A blond girl separated from a wall and rushed after the young man. Not bad, mate, Jack thought, lifting a powdered eyebrow. She was quite a looker. That aside, Jack wanted her gone as he silently mouthed something to no one in particular, making a shewing motion.
James must have felt the same. He said something to the girl that made her stop. She looked after him in puzzlement and then turned around to return to the entrance hall. Mercer stepped into the shadows. The hall was empty except for the music floating in from the ballroom. As the girl passed him, Mercer stepped up behind her and covered her mouth with his hand. Faster than Jack blinked, the assassin dragged her into the nearest room, hissing in pain from a sharp nails sinking deep into his wrist. She was like a slippery fish, twisting to get away. Mercer tossed her into a wardrobe that had a large key sticking out of a heavy, oaken door that muffled most of the screams and banging, and rushed to intercept James before he reached the Duke.
Jack tapped his chin, debating whether to go after Mercer or to free the girl. Tackling James for the key in the middle of the crowd was unwise, but to approach him subtly with a whisper that his little friend will die unless he handed over the letter was an effective way to obtain the necessary item. The boy would want to see evidence and Mercer would bring him to this wardrobe. With this in mind, Jack hummed as he picked the lock, anticipating the fair lady's kiss for her freedom. The gratitude he received was an ear-ringing slap and a coat thrown over his head as she jumped out of the wardrobe like an angered tigress. Blue dress flashed around the corner and she was gone.
"Bugger," muttered the Captain. Nose twitching, Jack climbed into the wardrobe. Mercer deserved a surprise.
His guess about the assassin's intent proved accurate. However, nothing went according to plan. As James charted a course through the ballroom towards the duke, shadowed by Mercer, his eyes suddenly met those of Lieutenant Harris who stood vigil, solely waiting for no other than Mr Norrington. Lieutenant spotted the mysterious guest too and charged towards him with a blazing determination that set James running for his life. He hadn't escaped one jail to be thrown into another. He breezed past Mercer like a wind with Harris on his heels. Mercer joined the pursuit in the settling dust.
Just as the trio escaped the ballroom, the girl entered it through a side entrance, heading directly for the Duke. "Your Excellency, a private word with you please," she requested, interrupting a conversation. A few men cringed, appalled by such manners. The duke too thought it a forward request. He intended to decline politely, but the girl was looking directly into his eyes as if daring him to recognise her. He looked closer and only a long training that taught him to remain calm prevented him from an immediate question. Yorkshire threw a dismayed glance at the floor where he saw his daughter and then back at the young lady before him. "Please, excuse us," he told the guests, offering his arm to the girl, but really making sure she doesn't run away as he escorted her to a private room.
Yorkshire by far wasn't a dull man. He put together that his daughter fooled everyone yet again, which this time crossed all propriety boundaries. This is why she was so compliant about the ball! Beatrice and her travel companion took advantage of the masks. Stella was in the crowd, pretending to be his daughter. Feverishly, he thought how to remedy the situation. He'd have to remove Stella from the room under some pretext and send Beatrice back. But, first, his daughter deserved a severe reprimand.
"Father! I've been kidnapped and locked in the wardrobe by a man dressed in black!" she fired more astonishing news at him before any reprimand came.
Yorkshire's eyebrows went up to the hairline. Within minutes every soldier within the mansion was alerted.
Meanwhile, the intruders hadn't the foggiest about the stir they've caused. James ran around in circles, trying to lose the pursuer. Withdrawing from the mansion wasn't an option as long as the duke was there. Harris and Mercer weren't having the easiest time keeping up with the quick youth, but in spite of drawing what seemed like his last breath each time, the lieutenant refused to fall behind, though he lost his hat, giving Mercer a perfect opportunity to trip over it. James too was tiring. It just so happened, the room with the wardrobe drew his attention and he rushed inside where he hid behind a statue just as Harris flew in.
"Come out," said the lieutenant breathlessly. He barely refrained from leaning onto his musket as he studied the room and then, settling on the most suspicion place crept forward. "You cannot hide."
James peeked out from his shelter and saw that Harris was sneaking up on the wardrobe as he talked to it. Harris yanked the wardrobe open, anticipating the youth's surprise. Bottomless, dark eyes and a heavily powdered head of a middle-age gentleman peered at him from the coats.
"Gah!" Harris cursed, knocked back as the man sprung forward. Harris grabbed a fistful of hair, although the later nimbly dodged like no middle-aged gentleman could, and was left with a wig in hand. "Hold it right there!" he yelled, tossing the wig aside and chasing a shock of black hair. The lieutenant was doomed to lose another race, except coming around a corner Jack crashed into Mercer who instantly recognised his enemy.
Bony hand like that belonging to death sunk into Jack's throat. "Where's the letter?" Mercer hissed. The answer was not forthcoming as Harris tripped over the fighting pair. The trio rolled across the floor, showering kicks and punches liberally. Mercer was strangling Jack to get the letter. Jack was going to all dirty measures in a struggle to untangle himself from the fight. Harris no longer knew who he was fighting, but bewildered by endless intruders springing out of every crack, he decided to let everyone have it.
James attempted to tiptoe around the fight unnoticed and nearly bumped into no other than Yorkshire who came to investigate the wardrobe where his daughter had been locked. Two guards grabbed James and several more appeared to encircle the fighters. Abrupt pain from a blade slashing his wrist, forced Harris to release the man clad in black. Mercer slipped past the soldiers. Four men separated from the circle to capture him. Jack was envious. He didn't cherish being on the floor with Harris sitting on top of him. The rustling and miffed exclamations sunk into respectful silence as the duke spoke up.
"I would like to hear a sound explanation," he said, but nobody yet pieced together a coherent picture. Everyone looked away as he studied them one by one.
"Please, let me speak, Your Excellency," said James.
Yorkshire hesitated. He preferred to hear the account from Harris who climbed onto his feet and valiantly tried to brush himself into a respectable appearance.
"Father please, listen to him," said Beatrice.
"Yes," said Jack, "listen to her," and smiled innocently at Harris who eyed him like he was the main suspect to be arrested. The captain edged towards the window. An echo rolled in from the distance that sounded like a severely discontent cat. Smiting everything in its path, a carriage broke through the gate. Peacefully chirping crickets under the window scattered. Jack bolted through the window, inelegantly landing in a heap inside the moving disaster. The captain used his crewman to regain the vertical position and raised his arm in triumphant salute.
"Let this be known," he shouted over the barking dogs, "as the night you've nearly caught…"
The cat finally retracted his claws in a desperate attempt to escape the chaos. The motion carried him into Jack's face.
"Who did he say he was?" Harris exclaimed, annoyed that he didn't hear the last words. He couldn't believe two scoundrels escaped right under his nose. Knowing at least one name would have helped him look for them. He pretended to stare out the window busily, not at all in a hurry to face his superior.
"Would you care to provide an explanation, Sir, before you too disappear," Yorkshire addressed their remaining prisoner. At his sign, the soldiers released James, but kept their weapons on him in case he too planned to run.
James removed the mask and bowed. "My name is James Norrington. I come to plead your assistance in a murder investigation."