A/N: Extra long chappie just to get a taste of our favourite 'birdie' on the scene.

It had to be him. Even though she had not seen Smith's face in its entirety, this man's familiarity slammed through her senses like a childhood memory. Surely the fork-like quality of his beard was not so common? It could not have taken much effort to remove the beads. The wig was more than large enough to stuff his dreadlocks into and slide the bandanna out of sight, and his eyes, those devious eyes; they were the same. The circles of kohl were hardly visible, but they were there.

"Beg pardon, my lady?" Lord Passer responded. His expression betrayed nothing. His voice could have been Smith's but the coarse accent had evaporated. Was it possible that a fashion had caught on amongst the elevated classes? Kitty did not want to doubt herself. If it was Smith, what was she to do about it? She could not expose him here for he would only return the favour.

"Nothin', sirrah," she said but gave him a pointed stare. "I jes' feel like I've seen yeh somewhere before. Must jes' be that yeh have a common face. Can't have everythin' I s'pose."

Suzanne's cheeks drained. "Kitty!"

Lord Passer patted her shoulder. "Worry not, Miss Moore. I am sure your friend is simply a tad edgy. I suspect she is not familiar with grand to-dos such as this. Nerves are wanton to toy with the intricacies of etiquette, are they not?"

Suzanne seemed pacified but she looked imploringly at Kitty. Swallowing back her contempt, Kitty offered a hand to shake.

"Charmed, Lord Passer."

Passer perplexed her by tipping her palm downwards and kissing the back of her gloved hand. "Honoured, Miss Baker." This was madness. It had to be him. Coincidences like this were impossible. What was he playing at? As they excused themselves and resumed dancing, Kitty felt herself fume. She wanted to scream at Suzanne that he was a charlatan but even if she got her alone she probably wouldn't believe her. Nonetheless, she tried to get to Suzanne again over the next few hours and was thwarted every time. Passer was with Suzanne constantly, smiling sickeningly, tangling Miss Moore securely in his web. The one instance that Suzanne was free, Kitty started forward and was at once cut off in her path by Ginson.

"Miss Baker, forgive me. Have I displeased you?"

"Wha-? No," Kitty blurted. "No, sirrah. I jes'- just was concerned f'r Suzanne. The man she's dancin' with, I don' trust him."

Ginson scanned the dancers until he noted Passer. "I have never seen him before. New to the area, is he? Or visiting perhaps?"

"Per'aps." She relented on giving information in the hope that Mr Woldham could do the same. "He says his name is Lord Passer. Are yeh familiar with 'is circles?"

Ginson smiled. "I cannot say I am an expert, but I have not heard of him. Possibly he is new to the title? Curious name, 'Passer'. Latin for 'sparrow', I believe. Not very noble sounding, is it?" He chuckled.

Kitty was barely listening, trying to track Passer and Suzanne's movements. Mr Woldham clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I am sure they are fine, Miss Baker. Is Mrs Moore not watching after all?" She followed his gaze to the southern edge of the square where Mrs Moore stood, a delighted smile upon her face as she watched her daughter gallivant with a supposed lord. "Put aside your mistrust, if I may not offend you to ask," said Ginson. "All will be well, I promise. I should very much like your company for a while."

Kitty met his gaze. The young man had a captivatingly honest face. He took her hand and she felt its warmth through her glove. He made her feel safe. She allowed herself to dance with him once again, sinking into the soothing rhythm of his guidance. Kitty laid her head at Ginson's collar and closed her eyes. Maybe there was something more stirring within her. She drifted, contented, and even forgot Suzanne.

When at last her feet could bear no more dancing, Ginson walked her home. "Thank y' for tonight, sirrah." She kept her eyes cast down to keep from stumbling in her tiredness. "I think with time I'll learn t' not worry 'alf so much."

"You are doing splendidly and it is you who must be thanked. It would please me if we could further get to know one another. Should you like it if I were to visit you at the farm? I can introduce myself to the Moores and perhaps when all is well you would be permitted to travel to my own home? I think you would like it."

Kitty was stunned. "I…eh…I s'pose yeh c'n visit the farm whenever yeh like. Mind I work though an' it gets terrible messy. I think yeh wouldn' like meh when yeh saw the grimy stuff what goes on at the farm. There's muckin' an' milkin' an' scrubbin' an' scourin' an' gibletin'…" Ginson cupped her face in the palm of his hand and turned it to face his. She trailed off.

"You are quite adorable, Miss Baker."

Kitty flushed and fought against the feeling of being patronised. "Ah, gerr'out of it!" She turned away and walked on, approaching the farm. He caught up with her. "En't there some'at against higher classes minglin' with the lowborn?" she asked.

Ginson shrugged. "My family is not sufficiently well-connected for its business to mar the reputation of another. I may do as I please."

Kitty managed a smile. "Well en't yeh the convenience, Mr Woldham?"

They reached the doorstep of the cottage. Ginson stopped her and turned her about to admire her shape. "You are beautiful."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "That'd be the dress. You're t' thank f'r that."

"If it is for the dress your beauty shines then a thousand more shall you have."

"Don' tease meh."

"Forgive me, Miss Baker…Kitty, I will let you retire and I hope to see you again before too long." He planted a kiss upon her cheek, tipped his hat and took his leave. His transport had followed them, it seemed, for when he reached the farm gate he clambered into a waiting carriage and was borne away.

Somewhat stupefied, Kitty went indoors and sought out her bed. Suzanne's was empty. Her worries began to resurface. She resisted the urge to go back out and look for Miss Moore but refused to go to sleep. With little else to pass the time she lit a candle, one of her last remaining, and leafed through the borrowed book once more. She reached a chapter concerning some of the most notorious pirates on record for the Caribbean. She read the tale of Davy Jones, the sailor so besotted with a sea goddess that he bound himself in service to her and carved out his heart to escape the agony of love. There was yet more on the subject of Barbossa and his Black Pearl, varying accounts of him being sighted raiding ports. Whether or not he was still supposed to be at large Kitty could not determine. The book had been written three years prior.

Before Kitty was too tired to read on she came across a selection of tales centralising around another pirate. The stories were nothing more than absurd fantasies involving spectacular escapes on the shells of sea turtles; pillaging towns without firing a shot; infiltrating Canterbury cathedral as a cleric; and single-handedly uniting two warring countries through kidnapping their princesses, both of whom coincidentally became devoted to him and bestowed lavish gifts upon him. She sneered at the unbelievable plots and was not surprised to find that there was no illustration of the pirate responsible. The amusement fell from her face, however, when she read his name.

It was one o' clock when the bedroom door opened and Suzanne emerged. Kitty sat up at once and gawped at what she could make out. "Suzie? What 'appened? Wossat all in y'r 'air? Izzat leaves?"

Suzanne gasped at her voice. "Oh Kitty, you mustn't tell Mother. I've had a wonderful night!"

Kitty looked at her sternly. "How did Mrs Moore let yeh stay out t' this hour?"

"She didn't." Suzanne gave a childish giggle. "We followed her home but slipped out again when she thought we were bidding farewell."

"Yeh don't even know 'im!"

"Twaddle. There's not a dangerous bone in him. At least, not one I couldn't be besotted with." Suzanne sighed and pirouetted towards Kitty's bed before she perched upon its end. "Don't be angry with me, please? Didn't you have a good time with Mr Woldham?"

"I didn't run off in the middle of the night with 'im. What were yeh thinkin'? He didn't…" Kitty fumbled with her words. "Yeh didn't…with him, did yeh?"

"Of course we didn't!" Suzanne burst out crossly. "How dare you think so ill, Kitty! He was perfectly civil…" She hesitated. "Well, sometimes he said things that I don't think were entirely appropriate, but he was ever so quick to realise and made amends, and I didn't really mind anyway. Kitty, don't look at me that way. I can feel your eyes burning."

More than ever Kitty was sure that Suzanne's new suitor was Smith and the anger emerged with hot tears. She was glad it was too dark for Suzanne to see. "What d'yeh expect meh t' think?" she snarled. "Yeh come back like this bringin' half the forest with yeh like yeh'd been violated or some'at. He en't no good f'r yeh, Suzie, he en't what 'e seems. He's the man that climbed in m' window, I know it. Lookit what he's done t' yeh. Yeh look like a whore!"

It was too late for Kitty to bite her tongue. For a few seconds the shocked silence hung in the air and all she could hear was the thud of her own heartbeat. Suzanne rose from where she sat and looked down her nose at Kitty.

"Don't make up cruel lies just to feel better about Woldham. Jealousy does not become you. As for my appearance, I can only say I prefer it to dressing above my station like some tawdry trollqueen!" She strode for the dresser and, paying no more heed to Kitty for the duration of the night, she combed out her hair and got into bed.

Miss Baker undressed, trembling. She almost hated Suzanne for being so idiotic but the sound of the young blonde's sobs, muffled under blankets, stung as much as her words had. Kitty felt more alone than sitting outside with the sheep.

The next day they barely spoke. Kitty placed the dress she had borrowed upon Suzanne's bed and did her chores in the expensive gown.

"Kitty! What on earth are you doing wearing that?" Mrs Moore wailed. "You'll ruin it. Get out of it at once!"

Kitty refused. "'S too good f'r meh. I need t' bring it down to m' level." So she worked and worked, letting the skirt achieve a tear and the gloves and front become dusty. She did not care what Ginson would think if he saw her.

Over the following weeks she heard nothing from Mr Woldham. She did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Most troubling of all was Suzanne's behaviour. Miss Moore would disappear from the laundry room for at least an hour a day and would return looking flustered and with a secret smile that would vanish the moment Kitty walked in. Some late evenings Suzanne would creep out and back in again, being a lot more clumsy than she believed. One night as she pretended to sleep, Kitty caught a glimpse of something shining at Suzanne's throat. She watched silently as Miss Moore admired herself in the mirror and then hid the treasure in her dresser.

Kitty made sure Suzanne had long since begun her chores the next morning before she slipped into their room under the pretence of changing the sheets. Closing the door, she crouched before Miss Moore's dresser and opened the drawer in which she had seen the item placed. Kitty sifted through clothes and tattered blankets until a scarf unravelled and exposed the secret. Red jewels glimmered from the necklace that Suzanne had mooned over in the market streets. Why was she hiding it? Wouldn't Mrs Moore have been overjoyed that such attentions were being bestowed upon her daughter? Or was she just hoping to avoid Kitty's resentment?

The awful truth presented itself the next market day. Perhaps fortunately for her, Suzanne had come down with a cold and was forced to remain abed. Kitty took the wares to town with Mrs Moore and discovered a commotion outside the jeweller's shop. Gossip was rife among the crowd and the storeowner's voice could be heard telling a boisterous tale somewhere inside.

"Gone…priceless pieces…taken!" she caught from the hubbub. "Would have been robbed blind…of everything I had…hadn't been for Lord Passer…"

"Huzzah for Lord Passer!"

"Did you hear the fuss he made? Were you there? Nearly caught the blighter he did!"

"…dashed about the shop not caring for the spectacle he made, all to ensure he saved what he could…"

"How heroic! Huzzah for Lord Passer!"

"Who was it?"

"Didn't catch sight of the devil, we'll hunt him out. Passer saw him. He shall help."

Kitty felt sick. She had to warn Suzanne, but what if she already knew? Had Suzanne been an accomplice? Kitty feared Passer's intentions. It would be the work of a moment for him to frame Miss Moore and let him get away. He had already duped the town. He had pilfered a jeweller's without breaking a single pane of glass, right under their noses.

She returned to the cottage, ignoring Mrs Moore's excited twittering about their new local hero, and ascended the stairs towards Suzanne's room. As she reached for the handle she noticed a folded piece of parchment poking under the doorjamb. Kitty pulled it out quietly. The outer side read 'Suzanne'. Miss Moore had clearly been too ill or tired to notice the message's arrival. Kitty bit her lip and stared at the folded paper, terrified of its contents and the damage it might do to Suzanne. What if it held blackmail or proved evidence against her? She had to protect her family. She could not let Passer or Smith or anyone else take advantage of them, even if they drove her out. Kitty crept down to the laundry room and opened the letter.

Dearest,

I look forward to seeing your face again, darling. I hope the gift was to your liking. Meet me at the bridge tonight upon the eleventh hour.

Jonathan ~x~

Kitty regarded the message callously and crumpled it in her palm. She tossed it onto the kitchen fire as she passed and resumed the day's work. That evening, when all those indoors had put themselves to bed and she was sure the shepherd boy had taken up his watch, Kitty padded softly downstairs and put on a thick cloak. Having saved up for a holster, her pistol now rested at her side. The quartz knife that knew more of her history than she did was slotted inside a thin sheath and bound to the same belt. Ready as she could manage, she stepped out into the night.

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Treading the outskirts of the farm, Kitty was able to avoid being spotted by Toby as he recounted the sheep. There was only one bridge near enough for her to guess Passer's meeting place, at the far edge of the forest bordering the Moore fields. She walked the path circling the woodlands for she knew Suzanne would not have dared venture into the trees. It was foolishness to wander out without telling anyone but she had rather it were she than Suzanne.

Far off in the distance she heard the village bell begin the chimes of eleven. The whisper-laden trundling of the wide stream reached her ears and she stepped onto the arching stone bridge. There was no one to be seen but Kitty was getting accustomed to being surprised. She walked to the left side of the bridge and watched the stream run. She closed her eyes and listened. So soft as almost unheard was the crunch of leaves somewhere below. Kitty waited, eyes half opening. She stood perfectly still until the serenity deepened too much for it to be real, and then she turned with pistol drawn.

"Miss Baker," said Lord Passer. It was not clear by his tone whether he was caught unawares. "I was wondering how long I was to wait before you came."

Kitty's brow furrowed. She kept her pistol arm raised. "Yeh were expectin' meh?"

"How were you to resist protecting Suzanne?" He smiled and she thought she saw something shining amongst his teeth.

"An' I s'pose yeh wanted t' lure meh out an' remove the obstacle?" At his silence she continued, "Yeh might have the town an' the Moores fooled but I en't. Yeh're an impostor. I know yeh stole those jewels an' really, what sort'f lord only has one suit?"

Passer smirked and reached inside his coat, causing Kitty to start forward, finger resting on the pistol trigger. He brought out a pouch and tipped some of its contents into his left palm. Precious stones glittered in his hand.

"A shame I did not have these to accompany your dress for the fair. No time like the present. What would please the lady? Diamonds? Sapphires?" He plucked a small green stone from the handful and held it up. "A jade, perhaps?"

Kitty gritted her teeth. "Mr Woldham bought this dress."

"Did he? Is that what he told you? I suppose he can give an account of the picture stitched upon the front interior of the bodice?"

"There en't no such thin'." He shrugged and pocketed the gems. Scowling, Kitty put a thumb to her neckline, intending to part it enough to glance inside. The moment her gaze dropped, Passer seized her. Grappling with the firearm, he turned her around to lean against the wall of the bridge. In a brief moment of terror, Kitty felt giddy at the vision of the murky waters below. Despite herself she gave a startled sob as he trapped her between himself and the stone. The pistol's barrel was forced against her temple.

"I submit to you, Miss Baker," he said, keeping his voice as succinct as proper as ever, "that within that dress there is an image of a magpie designed to sit snug in the bosom of its wearer. Is that not right? Why don't you take a look? Come, come, dear, now is not the time for modesty. Tell me what lies therein."

Shaking with rage and fear, Kitty fumbled at the line where material met cleavage with the only hand she had free. She parted and released it again swiftly in order that he saw as little as possible.

"Well?" His arm tightened at her waist.

"A magpie, 's a magpie!" she cried.

"A magpie!" His triumphant tone growled, slipping from the upper class.

She winced as his weight pressed her harder into the edge of the low wall. "So yeh sent meh the dress," she spat. "Yeh got Suzanne the necklace. What d'yeh hope t' gain? Our affections? Or jes' enough attention t' get us where yeh please? If yeh're lookin' t' spoil meh, yeh're in f'r a fight. An' if yeh've touched Suzanne, I'll tear yeh apart."

Passer spun her about with enough vigour to make her yelp. She saw his eyes. The dark outlines around them were thicker, much thicker. They were Smith's eyes. "'S you!" she breathed. "I knew -."

"Don't alarm y'self, missy," he said in a spliced London tongue. "I'll take what I'm given when you so choose it. Time dictates you'll come to me of your own accord but, whilst this be much anticipated, how's about we go back to your little farm'ouse, get back the trinket I imparted to our charming Miss Moore, an' then I might let you in on a few things I know about a certain young lass's misplaced past. Savvy?"

Kitty picked out the glinting between his lips as gold and silver caps. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeh're lucky I en't in a position t' see yeh hanged f'r what yeh are."

"Fortunate for the both of us, love, for that position is reserved for the noose alongside my own. Lawmen care naught for the difference between the real pirate and the masquerade." He pulled her away from the wall and directed her toward the path to the farm. He pointed the pistol at her back. "Move."

With a sulking expression Kitty began the march home, Smith following close behind. She muttered under her breath. "Yeh look stupid in tha' wig."

Arriving at the farm, Kitty led Smith amongst the buildings out of the shepherd's sight. All was as quiet as she had left it. She felt the security of familiar surroundings stirring her confidence. As they passed the barn, Kitty stumbled and sprawled on the soily ground. Unprepared, Smith nearly stepped on her. It only took the split-second of his confusion for her to kick his boots. They slipped on the mud and brought him to earth. Kitty broke for the barn, skittering over the straw in her flight. Smith gave chase.

He stopped just ahead of the doorway, searching the room from where he stood. His eyes narrowed, trying to deduce her hiding place. He heard the slice of the knife too late. A rope cut down to its last few strands, suspending a net of hay-bales above the entrance, had waited for him. The net and its contents engulfed the flamboyantly attired pirate and flattened him against the barn floor. Groaning, Smith crawled out and staggered to his feet. The look of surprise did not have time to fully enter his features as a glowering Miss Baker swung out with the side of the milking bucket and smacked him across the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor.

Kitty dropped the bucket and quickly checked him for a pulse. Satisfied that he was unconscious, she hurried back to the cottage and rifled as quietly as possible through the pantry. She snatched up a grimy key and sneaked back to the barn. Using all the strength she possessed, Kitty pulled Smith and his lordly regalia through the farmyard and to a set of wooden doors affixed to the cottage. Making sure that she was not seen, she twisted the key in the lock, threw the doors wide and dragged the pirate down into the cellar.