It is not that I love you less,
Than when before your feet I lay:
But, to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away

In vain, alas! for everything,
Which I have known be long to you,
Your form to my fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

—Waller

Chapter 25

The three of them were heading off to work one afternoon when they kept hearing voices at street corners talking with more than the usual animation about the day's news. Rodolfo and Paolo went over to a crowd to hear what had all the men gathered together.

It appeared that the governor and the acting governor's son had been on a trip to Spain and were due to return that day or the next on the ship, The Magnánimo, depending on when that ship was able to navigate the currents of the Mississippi. This was good news for some who had not cared for the interim governor and his heavy-handed approach to ruling New Orleans while Governor Esteban Miró was away. Many in New Orleans were French and resented the Spanish administration but had been amenable to Governor Miró and his tactics as he negotiated well with Spain to implement the best policies for the colony. But the acting governor, Rémy de Granada, had taken a much more hard line in the six months that Miró had been away and was attempting to make New Orleans an entirely Spanish colony and wished to wipe out the established French culture of fifty years.

It took two days for The Magnánimo to arrive but word spread quickly that only Etienne de Granada y Patron was on board. It was said that Governor Miró had disembarked in Havana, Cuba on official business and would be returning later. Like so many others Lisette went along with half the town to see The Magnánimo dock and to watch the large party returning from Spain disembark: to see and to hear.

The crowd was a cross-section of men from all classes, races and nationalities that gathered to scrutinize the entourage from Spain. Wealthy New Orleans families were there as they came to greet returning friends or even family members who had been gone for six long months. Lisette watched as an almost fashion parade of men came down the gangplank interrupting the porters who were attempting to bring the smaller pieces of luggage or chests down that strip of wood which were not being winched by an overhead crane off of the main deck.

One young man stood in pride of place at the railing of The Magnánimo wearing a black coat that was embroidered with flowers and butterflies and a cream colored waistcoat with the same detail. He wore a magnificent wig topped with a black hat. She supposed that must be the acting governor's son who had been a sort of aide-de-camp to the Governor on the trip. Lisette did not know his real role, so she used an English equivalent. He was speaking loudly to a friend on the dock but it became obvious that his position there at the railing was all for show; his magnificent dress and conversing with such an emphatic voice were all been meant to portray a certain authority.

"Congratulations! Another son, Joaquin you put me to shame. Three sons now! And I need to find a wife still. I have learned my lesson to not linger about the choosing of one any longer," said the well-dressed and grinning young man.

The man on the deck said something in return but Lisette could not hear the words.

"The hurricane! We had to travel through a hurricane," the elegant young man's hands flew up into the air and all eyes were on him then, "have you not heard about the hurricane that swept through the Caribbean? Nearly broke us into a thousand pieces as we were still out to sea." He stopped to cross himself and Lisette noticed a few others on the docks cross themselves in sympathy. "After surviving that I know that God is trying to tell me something and it is that I need to stop my philandering ways and find a good little wife to marry—perhaps a rich one too!" He grinned with a white-toothed smile that was infectious and made many others on the dock follow suit.

Again there was more discussion from people on the dock that she could not hear.

Etienne de Granada made a show of straightening his jacket though it had been made to fit his body specifically and did not need any such adjustments.

"Yes, I am quite a catch, with my father acting governor and not doing too poorly you know," and he made a gesture with his hands that they all knew meant his wealth, "so you ladies, or you widows if you need a husband," and he pointed down at the few women spotted there on the dock and grinned. "Though I have it in mind to seek out some new blood; there are tales of an English lady who is rumored to have crossed the Atlantic and whose father is offering 2,000 English pounds for her return. She must be quite a catch do you not think, eh?"

Whatever the return calls were from his audience they were lost on Lisette who stepped away from the crowds as quickly as she could. Still her father pursued her; he had raised the reward to 2,000 pounds now and would that not turn an honest man dishonest to restore her to her father to collect such a reward? Was there no place to hide from Mr. Thomas Bennet, Esq.?

They had lowered a boat and some of his burliest were at the oars as St. Denis and Carbonneau sat beside him in the choppy waters of the Gulf. It was impossible not to get wet but his caped great coat shed most of the water and kept him dry. The Elinor lay at anchor and Captain D'Arcy swept his eyes from the forecastle to the aft assessing the damage. He could see how lucky, in some ways, Henry had been that none of the masts had been knocked out by the cannon fire but part of the port side railing had been splintered apart by a cannon ball. A hole had been blown in the berth deck below the forecastle where he knew the middies' accommodations were, and Captain D'Arcy hoped the young men had not been in the room at the time.

Shrapnel and grapeshot had splintered and riddled the port side of the ship and he considered how lucky for him to have been able to come upon The Elinor mid-battle with the pirates and help rout them. He suspected that his cousin would not have been able to fight them off much longer.

St. Denis hailed The Elinor and permission to come aboard was given. A ladder was thrown down to welcome them and D'Arcy and his two lieutenants climbed aboard. He embraced his cousin whom he had not seen in twenty months and introduced Carbonneau who had not been a member of his crew the last time they had met. Jenkins stood silent as usual next to his commander.

"It looks bad Henry," he said in English as he stepped back surveying the damage on deck.

"I know; we are pumping as fast as we can because of a hole at the waterline but a lot of what has been done is actually just her looks, she's battered up but no structural damage is at issue." He smiled a small smile that just raised the edges of his lips. "Come inside and we can talk. The officers' mess is our best bet. My quarters took some damage to the windows."

His lieutenant led the men down the stairs onto the berth deck towards the mess and D'Arcy stopped as he saw a face at a door. A woman peered at him, skirts peeking out through the crack and he was startled by the sight. The eyes were not dark but blue and when he caught sight of them they looked away and the door was shut tight.

His cousin appeared to be arguing with two men when he entered the mess. They were civilians; an odd pair, an older man and a much younger man but both vehement in their attacks against Henry about the pirates, the current conditions of their room and of the ship. The captain of the Elinor finally rid himself of the two saying he would leave them at the next port if they did not leave the room as requested.

"Idiots, father and son," said Fitzwilliam-Blake after they left. "I am sorry I have been saddled with them. The women passengers are much easier."

"I saw one peeking out as we passed," said D'Arcy.

"I must say Miss Bacon was far more level-headed than the Mr. Butlers were during this ordeal. I imagine Miss Philips would have been as well." Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake stole a look at his cousin but nothing showed on D'Arcy's face to show how the reunion with Miss Philips had gone.

"We can get into a discussion of female passengers another day. What do we do about repairs? Pensacola? Havana? Kingston?" said D'Arcy with a little impatience.

"I was thinking New Orleans," said Henry who looked at Lieutenant Jenkins who then nodded in agreement. D'Arcy scowled.

"I just came from there and would hate to turn around," explained D'Arcy.

"But it is our closest port. How is Le Cerf Blanc as far as damage?" asked Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"Nothing structural but as with you I have cosmetic damage. We are not taking on water at the moment so could carry on," replied D'Arcy.

"We do not need to return to port together," said The Elinor's captain. D'Arcy looked thoughtful and glanced over at St. Denis and Carbonneau.

"The authorities," prompted St. Denis. D'Arcy continued his gaze at his second.

"If we are to make a report to the government authorities we should do it together so we should put into the same port," D'Arcy was thoughtful longer and then looked over at his cousin. "I am not sure New Orleans is best as the government authorities were not as welcoming as I had hoped, Governor Miró has not returned and there is an intern governor who has no interest in tackling pirates and may not wish to hear of our troubles."

Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake looked at his cousin and thought then that the reunion with Miss Philips had not gone at all as well as planned, which meant she was alone in New Orleans and he felt a certain responsibility to ensure her welfare.

"Guy, I am taking on water. New Orleans is the next port. We have to put in there. We do not need to see to our cosmetic repairs but I cannot sail even in shallow waters with this leak."

So it was decided, they were to go to New Orleans.

With their ship repairs keeping them in port the two cousins found time to dine together, off-ship. An acquaintance sent them out the tavern door and north of town with instructions to see Rodolfo's puppet show.

"How is Douglas doing?" Asked D'Arcy as they walked.

"He is fine," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake, "though he complains of school as any boy is want to do. I am not sure what to read into that, whether it is because I am not often at home to receive him when there is a school holiday or because I am at sea and he wants to be, or if he is truly unhappy and is struggling with his courses," and the worried father showed on his face.

"If his schoolwork was at issue I am sure the headmaster would let you know. Does he still threaten to quit and join up as a midshipman when he is fifteen?" Asked the fellow captain.

"Yes, I keep wondering how I am to keep him in school and get him to Oxford. I have four more years to consider before he can run away and sign on a boat as a middie if he so chooses. I wonder if Elinor had not died if I would continue to be faced with such issues. Perhaps if I had remarried as everyone suggested I should not be so concerned."

"But you have not lost your heart again," said his cousin.

"No, I had never considered it again," said Fitzwilliam-Blake, then he paused and looked sideways at his cousin, "until recently."

D'Arcy turned then at those words and raised an eyebrow.

They were passing through the end of the line of buildings and out into the open space north of town and could see a crowd of men gathered before a miniscule stage, some of the men sat on the dirt in front, others stood but all appeared mesmerized by the tiny production.

"Whoever heard of a puppet show garnering so much attention," said Captain D'Arcy and waved a dismissive hand at the cart and the men—the idea of it, "we shall not even be able to see properly," he turned back as though no longer interested.

Henry put a hand on his arm, "let us see what has these men quiet for once, Guy," and his eyes looked with interest at the little stage. Perhaps there might have been some small part of him in thinking then of his son, and wondering if Douglas would enjoy the puppet show or if Douglas, at eleven, might already be thinking himself as too old for such amusements.

The stage appeared to be a cart framed over with curtains and a story was already in place, a boy and a man were talking and then the man, a sorcerer apparently, tricked the boy, and he was left alone and trapped in a cave, despairing for his life. The words in the production were half spoken and half sung, almost like an opera. The boy then took out a magic ring and called on a jinni for help and the jinni appeared.

And that is when they heard the voice of the ghost.

D'Arcy thought he would never hear her voice again and he had had many a sleepless night in contemplating that voice over and over. He had been brusque with his crew, distant from his officers and then to hear her voice floating across the square to once again dance around him made him stop in his tracks as he looked around to try and find his Elisabetta but he could not spy her singing and he thought perhaps that all of those dreams, those nightly dreams of her singing were suddenly to begin haunting him during the day as well, but he looked at his cousin Henry and saw that his cousin had an equally enchanted look on his face as he too looked for the source of that voice.

D'Arcy could not help saying, "she is here!"

His cousin said, "Yes, she is; she came to find you."

The voice stopped and the story continued and they stood and watched with all of the other men as the boy became rich and was betrayed by something so simple as a little housecleaning, 'new lamps for old,' but it all was set right in the end. She was the voice of the jinni and D'Arcy felt as if he was holding his breath waiting for the next time she would speak or sing.

Finally a short, dark man came out, after the curtains had closed, and walked around with a hat gathering coin; men called to him to 'bring out the ghost,' or 'show us the spirit,' but the man smiled or laughed and said "no, no, no, you know that ghosts are not to be seen; you may hear the voice again tomorrow, good sirs, if you choose, but are never to see her."

D'Arcy called out to two men who were passing him, "who is that man?"

"That is Signor Rodolfo, the Italian puppeteer, he entertains us with his show every afternoon," said one.

"Who is it that sings so beautifully?" Asked D'Arcy. The man and his companion stopped to turn and look at them with surprise that they did not know about the ghost.

"No one knows, they call her 'the lady in the cart,' or 'the ghost' or 'the spirit,' as no one has seen her though many a man has attempted to figure out how they smuggle her in the cart every day, Rodolfo and his apprentices," said the man.

"I believe it is his daughter, he is known to have a daughter," said the other, "though why she only just recently started singing when she could have been entertaining us all along…," and his words petered out as a grin graced his face.

"I think she is a mermaid his son captured in the sea and has married which is why they have to hide her in the cart," said the first. D'Arcy nodded vaguely to the men at that point and turned to see that the cart was being packed away and readied to leave. He walked with purpose towards it, shoulder to shoulder, with his cousin.

"Sir," called D'Arcy to the puppeteer, "I need to speak to the lady!" He spoke in his captain's voice, in control though inside he was desperate. The parting with Elisabetta had been horrific. He had thought that Severin had been able to hide her from the corsairs but then to see her screaming and being dragged across the deck by those two pirates at the end had devastated him; all of his hopes in life had faded in that single moment as he watched her struggle with her captors. He had called out, stepped out of his role as captain to proclaim himself again as her lover and to try to ransom her but she had disappeared over the edge of the ship, gone from him.

"I need to speak to her," he called again. His cousin was next to him. The little Italian man was there in front of his stage shaking his head.

"The 'ghost' speaks to no one, good gentleman," and he waved his hands in front of them as if he was a sorcerer and could vanish them, despite the difference in their sizes he did cower before the two tall captains.

"I am a friend!" Called D'Arcy his voice losing some of its control, "Elisabetta…Elisabetta," he called then towards the stage. Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake looked with surprise at his cousin.

"Elisabetta?" asked Fitzwilliam-Blake, "she is Lottie."

"I do not think you gentleman know what you talking of; you are inventing names and histories for the 'ghost' like so many others, you go now," said Rodolfo with his hands still held out in front of him.

"Elisabetta!" Cried D'Arcy and a figure came around the end of the cart, a young man, one of the apprentices with his head bowed as he approached his master.

"Captain D'Arcy," whispered Lisette as she stood next to Master Rodolfo. Her face was pale as she looked at him as though it was he who was the ghost. Lisette had thought he was on his way home, had crossed the Gulf, and rounded Florida by now, perhaps was even crossing the Atlantic after almost two weeks in New Orleans she had given over seeing him again.

Rodolfo put an arm around her shoulders in a protective gesture. "These men do not know of what they speak, Louis, they only want to see the 'ghost,' go and help Paolo finish packing." Lisette did not move as she stood and stared at Captain D'Arcy, her eyes did not leave his face.

D'Arcy stared at the figure next to Rodolfo, dressed in breeches, a trim boy but Elisabetta's face stared back at him.

"What are you doing here?" He cried, "how did you come to be in New Orleans?"

"I am earning my keep," she answered.

"You are dressed as a boy! You cannot be dressed as a boy and earn your keep," he cried in confusion, "how did you come here?"

"I brought her," answered his cousin; and D'Arcy turned to look at Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake next to him.

"You brought her! And when were you going to tell me she was here?" He cried.

"I thought you knew she was here and your reunion did not go as expected; though I actually only brought her as far as Pensacola," said Fitzwilliam-Blake. "She made the rest of the trip on her own." He looked back with some trepidation at Lottie Philips in her breeches at what he had reduced her to by letting her leave his ship and his protection.

"You let her go? You would let a young woman travel to an ungodly place like New Orleans by herself?" Shouted D'Arcy whose anger and confusion at the situation and his intense feelings for Elisabetta all making him unreasonable. "Henry, how could you let her go? Let her slip away?"

"Because of her history I could not prevent her leaving The Elinor," explained Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"Her history!" Cried D'Arcy in confusion.

Lisette watched the two captains arguing with such ferocity about her which made anger rise within. She had thought they were both bound for home, that they were weeks out to sea on their way back to Europe, yet here they were in front of her and instead of a delightful reunion she was forming no part of their conversation.

"Gentlemen, you need not worry about me. I am in Rodolfo's care now," and she leaned against the fatherly figure while the two men suddenly quieted and looked over at her.

"Like all the other little annoying insects, you two fly off, she is well-cared for in my family," and Rodolfo thumped himself on the chest and the two performers turned to finish packing up the cart. D'Arcy and Fitzwilliam-Blake stared as Lisette walked away from them without having said anything else.

"So, the 'ghost,' dresses in boy's clothes!" Said a voice and they turned to see a well-dressed figure standing next to them. Etienne de Granada watched the marionette cart as the three figures hauled and pushed it away. "She has quite a pretty face, this 'ghost,' " and he grinned as though it was a good joke.

"If ever I saw her again that was not the reunion I imagined," said D'Arcy.

"We did rather make a mess of it," said Fitzwilliam-Blake.

They were sitting together over a glass of rum. It was really a vile drink but it was stronger than ale. Both men did wonder why that had not considered something else.

D'Arcy's hand slapped the table. "You said you brought her here?" He asked.

"Yes," answered his cousin.

"How did she come to be on The Elinor?" D'Arcy's face was contorted with emotions: confusion, pain, even a slight sense of betrayal as he did not understand his cousin's part in all of this.

"The corsairs flagged me down and handed her over to me in August just as we were to cross the Atlantic," explained Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"What! Did my ransom offer reach them so quickly?" cried D'Arcy his face still confused a mixture of conflicting though painful emotions.

"No," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake.

Then D'Arcy looked at him with a clouded expression. "How was it that they let her go?" Asked D'Arcy.

"Lottie ransomed herself," said his cousin. A look of complete horror and despair then crossed D'Arcy's face. "No!" Cried Henry his voice rising. "No," he said with a softer tone and held up a hand. "Do not imagine that. She sang," he continued. D'Arcy's shoulders relaxed.

"Sang?" Said Gauthier D'Arcy in a faint soft voice.

"She did not share many of the details it always made her weep to speak of her time on the corsair ship. Lottie said you could not prevent her being captured so she did what she could to get them to release her and had to sing for her ransom." D'Arcy blanched at that, the aspersion that he could not prevent her from being taken.

"Her captor wanted the names of people to ransom her but she offered him songs instead, a new song every night in exchange for her freedom. I suspect you have heard her sing and know her power and he accepted it as payment and let her go."

D'Arcy was silent. Guilt and despair crept over him as he sat there; they crept over him as they had that day and on every successive day. His responsibility for the ship and his crew had prevented him from completely shielding Elisabetta from harm. It had been evil, an awful choice, to have had to make: to choose one hundred sailors over her. He had not been able to prevent her being taken. It was true he could not prevent her capture.

"They just let her go?" It was so unusual, but she was such an unusual woman.

"Yes. They flagged me down, sent up a white flag, and sent a man with word that they were releasing a prisoner—they did not tell me it was a female prisoner—just an English one. I could not refuse," answered his cousin.

"You are sure she came to no harm?" Asked D'Arcy. Fitzwilliam-Blake was silent then. "What? What happened?" asked his cousin.

"Guy—it was a terrible ordeal for her—they tied her to the hold. It was why I felt I had to let her go when she wanted to come to New Orleans to look for you. I could not very well tie her up again to prevent it!"

D'Arcy was silent over his drink for a long time. She had come to look for him; Elisabetta had come to look for him. He thought of some of the snippets from his cousin; those facts Henry had shared and D'Arcy was not sure how much more he wanted to speak or to share with Henry about this lady who had so enchanted him or hear how enchanted his cousin might be with her.

"You called her Lottie?" He finally asked.

"She has said she is Lottie Philips—an English woman and had run away from a guardian who wanted to marry her off against her wishes," said Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"She told me she was Elisabetta Trento, an Italian lady who had visited France and was returning home."

They were both silent for a while.

"Who is she?" D'Arcy slapped his hand down on the table with force. "She could be either of those or neither—and today she was dressed as a boy." He was growing angry. "Is she an actress from the London or Paris stage and performing in some elaborate way?"

"She seemed exactly who she said she was," said Fitzwilliam-Blake, "an English girl fallen on hard times because of circumstances and making do with what she had."

"How can you not question everything you think you know about her?" asked D'Arcy.

"I think, perhaps, I am not as crossed in love with her as you are," said his cousin.