I promised things would stop being fluffy, well here is where I deliver on that promise. Sorry it's taken me so bloody long to update—I'm also juggling two other stories as well as "real" life. In any case, enjoy the update and let me know what you think!
It had been an accident; she'd acted on instinct and it had been all over before her analytical brain could catch up and tell her that perhaps killing them was not the best of options. Now here she stood, the warm corpse of Miss Forester still cradled against her chest with Mr. Forester's body bleeding out onto the stately, wood table. James stood stone-still at the open door, the garish sounds of the ball drifting in around him. He hadn't seen the moments previous, when it had all occurred, he only saw this, the damning evidence of her violent response.
He didn't know that it had been self-defense; he didn't and wouldn't understand the true nature of the Forester's: their obsessive and crazed desire for the pendant, their conniving and manipulation to get her alone, their efforts to poison and then stab her, and all for the pendant. She still didn't understand what exactly the pendant was but whatever it was it had just nearly killed her and in turn had caused her to kill two "innocent"—in the eyes of Britain and James and anyone who mattered—bystanders.
She knew already that there would be no way to explain, not without further condemning herself and her family. She had no defense, no way of explaining away these "murders." From the look on James' face—horror, fear, shock, confusion, anger, disappointment—she was guilty already and there had yet to be a trial, or an arrest. All he saw were two upstanding citizens of England dead and at the hands of an Irish clerk. He, no doubt, was recalling the earlier incidents she'd had with the Foresters and was already trying to form reasons for her supposed actions against them.
When the authorities investigate later, they will find that Miss Forester died of poison, the hair comb discarded by her side covered in it—Ashlynne had only meant to grab her hand and twist the comb out of her fingers, not cause the woman to scratch herself with it. Mr. Forester had died from a knife wound direct to the heart—she'd dodged a knife thrown at her head only to grab her own dagger and throw it in his direction in instinctive response, not really aiming for his heart but finding it anyway.
Ashlynne slowly lowered Miss Forester to the ground, her eyes never straying from James'. He made no move to come further into the room or to leave, made no attempt to speak. He merely watched her, as if in a trance, probably doubting his sight if not his sanity. She couldn't blame him. She too was in a state of shock, only she was already trying to figure out the best exit strategy because any second now and-
A scream rent through the room, causing them both to jerk, and Ashlynne looked past James to see that a lady had wandered by and saw the bodies. James shook his head to clear it and then started towards her, his eyes hard. He had no sword or gun, all weapons—except her hidden dagger—had been relinquished at the door, or else she was certain he would've used them. Behind him, the hall was already beginning to fill with other men and women, all curious about the commotion.
Ashlynne knew she had no choice. She waited until he was close before she lashed out with her foot, catching him painfully in the knee, causing him to drop down. Next she brought her hand down against his neck, rendering a shock to his nervous system that caused him to black out and slump to the floor. She didn't waste time lamenting their inappropriate and unfortunate farewell. Without pausing to see if anyone followed, she turned and fled directly towards the glass doors that led out to the balcony.
Crashing through the glass without pause, wincing when she felt shards bite into her skin, she lunged forward and seized hold of the stone railing and launched herself over. Below the balcony she knew a soft garden of flowers waited and as it had only been the second storey, and not the third, she knew she would survive the fall relatively unscathed. The impact still left her dazed and it took her longer than she liked to lurch to her feet and stagger off into the darkness, the mansion behind her abuzz with excitement and confusion.
"He's coming around sir."
James felt his stomach lurch slightly, the dizzying sounds and lights of the room around him mixing together with the aches in his neck and knee, all painful reminders of what had occurred. The images came back so quickly he let out a moan and reached for his head.
"Lieutenant Norriginton." He recognized his captain's voice and blinked the man's face into focus. "Can you tell me what in the hell happened here tonight? They tell me that our clerk has murdered the Forester's and then fled? Can this be true? Speak up man!"
"Sir," James took Gillete's offered hand and sat up slowly, the world swimming for a moment, "I'm not sure what occurred exactly but I can confirm that the clerk," he felt bile rise in his throat, he couldn't even bring himself to say her name, "was indeed the last one to see the Forester's alive and was the one standing with Miss Forester's body in her arms when I found her." He suddenly felt tired and was almost glad when the others didn't seem to immediately catch his "mistake" of sex. "Upon discovery, the clerk dropped Miss Forester, disabled me, and must have fled by way of the balcony. The last events I am not aware of, I was rendered unconscious by the clerk by that time."
His captain cursed and pushed away from the couch they'd apparently deposited James on while he'd been unconscious. He stalked over to what looked like local authorities and began speaking with them, no doubt giving them Ashlynne's description and telling them to be on the lookout for her. James knew he should tell them that "he" was in fact a she but found himself hesitating, momentarily of course.
Why would Ashlynne suddenly lash out, and so violently, against total strangers? He'd spent well over a month with her and never once had she displayed a violent streak. In fact, out of all members of the crew, she had always appeared to be more rational and even tempered. But, then again, she was not honest. Her entire guise on board the Dauntless had been false. From the day he'd met her, she'd lied and schemed, all the way down to the night in the inn. James groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Just who was Ashlynne Fitzpatrick? Why would she go through all the trouble of a disguise over the Atlantic just to come here, to this house, with these people, and murder them?
Gilette still hovered by his side, "Are you all right sir?"
"Yes," he lifted his head, his jaw set, "I am remembering my duty as a naval officer is all."
Gilette wouldn't understand the comment of course. But James understood his duty. He would tell the captain all that he knew of this Irishwoman, he would of course skirt around his attraction for her and their almost entanglement, but he would do what he had to do to ensure her capture. No murderer, no matter how intriguing, should go unpunished, and Ashlynne Fitzpatrick WOULD pay for her crimes.
She knew she only had a short time to get her stuff and get out before the authorities caught up. She normally wouldn't have bothered going back to the ship but she'd left Ingram's letter of introduction, as well as a few other items linking her to her family, that she didn't want to fall into the wrong hands. She'd just killed for her family, she didn't want them killed in turn.
The deck was blessedly silent when she rushed on board. The night's watchman had only smirked at her disheveled appearance, obviously thinking more lecherous thoughts than need be. Getting in and out of her cabin proved to be more difficult as she found Groves to be there, having momentarily forgotten that he did not have shore leave and was head officer on board.
"Ashlin!" He cried from his place on his bed when he took in her clothes and most likely the cuts and bruises already forming on her skin. "What on earth happened?"
Ashlynne paused only a moment to reflect on their relationship before she launched herself at him, near pinning him to his bunk with her weight, "I need you to listen and not ask questions. Just do this once and you'll hopefully understand." Her usually thick accent was gone and perhaps that, combined with her state of dress and the wildness of her eyes kept him silent and nodding in assent. "Tonight you're going to hear that I murdered the Foresters." He looked ready to interrupt but she pressed against him and he snapped his mouth shut. "I did kill them Theodore, but it was self-defense. They were trying to steal this," she pulled the pendant out from where it hid against her chest, "from me and I fought back. I need you to understand that I came here to save my family. They're being held by an old enemy and he wanted me to come here and get this. I know this sounds crazy, and it may be crazy, but its true."
She stepped back from his bunk and immediately began packing away her stuff. She kept half an eye on Groves, watching the way he watched her, confusion and fear mixing on his face. It was only once she had her rucksack thrown over her shoulder that he spoke up, standing from his bunk.
"Is that why you never told me you were a woman?"
Her mouth dropped open in surprise, "How long have you known?"
"It was only after the lieutenant found you in the galley, after the Foresters," he winced at their name, "came on board. I started thinking back on everything odd about you and all the times you'd had odd outbursts, as well as your insight with Sally and I and well it just came together." He smiled slightly. "I understand why you didn't tell me but I'm sorry."
"For what?" For a moment she seemed to have forgotten that she was running for her life and was content to converse with the only man she could consider a friend outside of family and Parlan.
"I can't let you leave." He reached behind him and pulled out his pistol. She felt her blood run cold and quickly pondered just how quickly he could load and fire versus her cutting him with her dagger and fleeing from the ship. "At least not without it looking like we struggled." Her mouth dropped open again and he smiled. "I believe your story, as crazy as it sounds and I'm sure you realize that innocent or guilty, you'd still have knocked me out to get away if I was none the wiser of the full truth."
"Of course!" She felt tears sting her eyes and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you Theodore. I promise not to scar you, or I'd never hear the end of it from Sally."
Groves merely chuckled, "Just make sure you survive whatever the hell your embroiled in so you can come to the wedding."
She nodded and without prior warning she brought the hilt of her dagger down against his head, having unsheathed it when she'd thought he'd been about to betray her. He slumped to the floor unconscious but unharmed otherwise. She hurried from the cabin, cursing how much time she'd taken with him, and started across the deck towards the gangplank. She stopped when she saw the torches on the docks rushing towards the ship. Knowing they were likely attached to soldiers intent upon her capture, and behind them an angry Lieutenant Norrington, she turned and instead headed to the opposite side of the ship. The moon was not overly bright but it offered enough light and without pause, she threw herself overboard. The sack was heavy enough to pull her under but not so heavy that she couldn't still swim with it. She surfaced in order to fill her lungs with much needed air before she sunk below once more and skirted the edge of the ship towards the far rocks of the harbor she'd seen when they'd first arrived.
She knew there were a small number of other villages and bays able to launch smaller vessels along the far edge of the island. If she traveled fast enough, and managed to change her disguise before arrival, she might just yet survive this fiasco and make it back to her family. That was only if Norrington and his wrath didn't overtake her first.