The Black Pearl and her crew were in port at Tortuga for nearly three days. Most of which were spent hauling supplies to the ship and getting everything in good order so they could set sail once more. The crew's nights, however, were spent in Tortuga's variety of establishments—taverns, the few merchant shops and houses of ill repute were the most popular among the men. This had the unfortunate side effect, for most of the men, of whittling away their shares of the ransom until they had not a shilling to their name. The other side of that coin was that by the time the ship was ready to set sail, so was her crew.
They set sail a little after noon, Jack at the helm—contemplating their destination, among other things. They could always do the obvious, pilfer and plunder off the coast of the Spanish Main to their hearts' content. They could set sail for Isla de Muerta and collect a little more of the swag that Barbosa and his men had hidden on the island. They could also return to Port Royale for Will and Elizabeth, who were probably a little irked at him for leaving them—not to mention probably worried about Grace. She was easy to worry about, after all.
Her life may have been filled with the work of her childhood adventures and the fear of her father discovering them, but she'd never had to work for a living. She may have been to taverns before, but she'd never worked at one—as she apparently was now. After they'd gotten to Port Royale he'd followed her to the Seagull's Egg. It was probably the best place for her—it was one of the quietest pubs in the town and she wasn't likely to get into trouble there. He'd checked back the next night, to see if she'd returned. Quite the surprise greeted him. At first he didn't see her—that is until he realized that the pretty young barmaid clutching three mugs of rum in her small hands was her. Her hair and face had been washed. The chocolate curls were loose, spilling past her shoulders. Her eyes were wider than usual—he supposed because it was her first day on the job and she wasn't quite sure what she was doing yet. Instead of the castoffs Will had given her, she wore a dark green dress that laced up over a white chemise. He watched as she made her way to a table of elderly men and set the drinks down. He noticed a blush creep onto her cheeks as they thanked her and, presumably, gave her a bit of ribbing. He'd chuckled to himself as he moved away from the door and continued down the street—he couldn't have planned it better himself. Sure, she was working as a tavern wench—but it was a respectable place, so chances were Elizabeth wouldn't slap him the next time they met. When that would be, he still wasn't certain.
He'd already decided that they'd take it easy—it would be a slow, roundabout course that brought them to whatever destination he decided upon. Eyes narrowed, he surveyed his crew and the sea that surrounded them. He made his mind up. They'd take a nice, meandering trip back to Port Royale. If they kept to the Cuban coast for a while before making their way south, they'd come all the way around the Isle of Jamaica. The voyage would probably take a little over a week—more if they ran into any merchant ships. After they picked up Will and Elizabeth, they could return to Tortuga and check on young Grace. Not that Jack was concerned, of course, but the fool girl probably needed some looking after. He grinned to himself as he began to call out orders and change the course of the great vessel.
Brody's week was most definitely not going in what he would call a good direction. Edward seemed shaken by his daughter's sudden death and had begun to question their joint venture. The second spot of trouble was the Commodore's investigation of the wench's death. The man had returned two days after Grace's apparent murder and had spent the next two days snooping about the matter. The suspicious eyes of the lawman weren't something Brody wanted on him. It was an uncomfortable period of time made even more unpleasant by his guest. He'd never liked Mary. Since the day of her birth he'd been playing second fiddle to the girl. She became the apple of their father's eye and he became a bitter disappointment. Now she was here, flaunting the great big stone on her finger every chance she got and making rude insinuations about his fiancée's fate. It didn't help that she was a sharp woman and he had to keep on his toes around her, lest she find out about things she shouldn't. And now, to add to his growing list of frustrations, was this. Brody glanced down at the paper in his hands once more before crumpling it in a tight fist. A messenger had only just delivered it and he still stood in front of the closed door, glaring at the darkly stained wood.
Elizabeth and Will were to marry within the week. He didn't mind that the pair was to exchange vows—just that they'd chosen to do it on what was shaping up to be a very busy day. It wasn't as though he could just skip out on it, though. That would raise some red flags for certain and he didn't need that any more than he needed Mary dogging his every move. Not to mention that five days was short bloody notice.
He did find it strange that the couple would choose to hold their wedding a mere ten days after Grace's supposed death. He had a very strong feeling that the wench was still alive. That was quite possibly the only thing that was going right. If she was alive, most of the world thought she was dead—meaning he wouldn't have much trouble if he wanted to be sure that most of the world was correct. He just needed to figure out where she was. Brody smiled to himself. He had a few good ideas of where she could be and had plans to pursue them after the wedding. Even Edward didn't know of that little outing—the man though his young associate was going to be checking up on business. Brody would, of course, check to be sure the isle was properly stocked, but his first stop was the pirate haven of Tortuga. He'd chartered passage on one of his own vessels. For the day of the wedding—I'll have to change the schedule. He sighed.
"Good morning, brother dear," came a soft voice from behind him. He turned from the door to see Mary dressed for the day and ready to leave. "Whoever was at the door?"
"The governor's daughter is to be married in five days," he told her, his tone patronizing. "Our presence has been requested." It looked as though Mary was genuinely smiling—whether it was because of his obvious annoyance or the wedding itself, he wasn't sure.
"That's simply delightful, Brody. Elizabeth and her father are both very happy about the match," she'd taken on that 'I-know-more-than-you' tone. Mary had dined with the Swanns on her third evening in Port Royale. She and Elizabeth seemed to get on all right and they'd been shopping twice since.
"Yes, well, I have business to attend to," he told her, before turning back to the door and letting himself out. He heard the door slam behind him.
That pig, Mary glared at the polished wood of the door before turning on her heel and making her way to her brother's study. She'd gotten in only once and it had been a very short investigation—Brody had nearly come upon her rifling through his papers. She smiled as the handle turned with her hand. He'd gotten careless, today. She looked around before slipping into the room and closing the door softly behind her.
Light filtered in through a single window, illuminating the room with a natural brightness. To her right was her brother's desk, to her left a rather large cabinet. Bookshelves—some empty, some not—were on every wall.
She attacked his desk first—where she'd left off the first time. Captains' logs and cargo listings little the surface and she'd gotten through them in no time. She tried the drawers next, but met with the resistance of a lock each time (except when she tried the top drawer, which container only extra ink and paper). She scanned his bookshelves next, looking for anything out of the ordinary. To her annoyance, she could find nothing out of place. After a quick look through a cabinet that she found to contain nothing save liquor, she returned to the desk—desperate to find some kind of evidence of what her brother was up to. This time, the sheet on top caught her eye.
It was a letter from a Captain Furey to her brother, assuring the man that he could have passage on Furey's ship, The Rainbow, anytime he pleased. She narrowed her eyes as she scanned the paper a second time. This was interesting, indeed. She wondered where Brody intended to go and when.
A door slammed suddenly and she jerked her head up. She could hear the quick, dull thuds of footsteps heading toward the study door and ducked down behind the desk, leaving the paper where it was. Her breath caught in her throat as the door opened. She could hear and feel her pulse pounding in her ears and had trouble convincing herself that whoever was in the room with her (and she was sure it must be her brother) couldn't hear it. The footsteps came closer to the desk, then stopped. She heard the rustle of paper, then the footsteps receded. The door creaked as it closed.
Mary peered up over the desk. The letter was gone, but everything else seemed to be there. A sudden click from the door sent a wave of cold dread washing over her. That was the sound of locks tumbling into place. She waited several minutes, listening carefully until she heard the front door close, then rushed from her hiding place to the door. She grasped the handle and jerked downward. It was no use—the handle barely moved. She was locked in.
Grace was exhausted. She'd been working at the Seagull's Egg for two nights and still hadn't found time for a good block of uninterrupted sleep. She was actually beginning to doubt that she'd ever sleep well again. She liked the work, she liked Tom and Rosie and Tortuga itself seemed to be a pretty nice place. But she didn't think she'd ever really belong here. She was sure she'd pick up the routine sooner or later, but routine and belonging were two entirely different things. While she didn't miss much of her old life, she couldn't help but wonder what Will and Elizabeth were up to—not to mention Garth, Mrs. James and Lena. At the thought of Will and Elizabeth, her hand crept across the tattered straw mattress to where her sword lay—just barely within reach. She felt naked while working, without it strapped to her side. At least she still had her bracelet—and her clothes fit (even though the laces of her dress pulled tight enough to remind her of a corset).
She sighed and rolled onto her back. It was the middle of the day and she'd just finished helping Rosie clean up from the night before. She'd taken a little walk before retiring to the upstairs room she shared with Bella, the other barmaid. Rosie shared a room with Tom, though the two of them weren't wed (Grace thought this more than a little scandalous). She closed her eyes, trying to relax and fall asleep—it just wasn't working. She gave another aggravated sigh and thought back to her walk. She'd gone down to the harbor—as she had the day before—to look at the ships and perhaps meet one of the Pearl's crew. She hadn't seen any familiar faces, but today she'd met with an unpleasant surprise. The Black Pearl was gone. Nobody had even said goodbye.
Until then she'd been holding onto a silly little daydream of Jack seeking her out and asking her to return to the ship. Now it was gone. She was stuck here. Jack wasn't coming back for her. Then again, she really couldn't blame him. She'd probably been nothing but a thorn in his side—and a quick buck. Her heart ached to feel the gentle rolling of waves beneath her feet. The memory of gently rocking waves slowly began to make her eyelids droop. As she drifted into an uneasy sleep her last coherent thought was of a pirate with dark, kohl-lined eyes. He didn't even say goodbye…
Well this is just bloody grand now, isn't it? Mary sat on the floor of her brother's study, glaring at the gleaming handle of the locked door. Of course he'd lock the door behind him. He's always been protective of his secrets. That was how he'd gotten by. Few people found out about his more unsavory acts. There were the rumor mills, of course, but most of that was talk between the servants. Some were true, some simply fabrication and most discounted by the wealthy as overly embellished.
His reputation in London had taken over two years to surface—even to family members. Not only did he gamble a great deal (and lose) in those two years, but he'd also made the rounds of cheap prostitutes in the poorer parts of town on a very regular basis. That was why his doings had surfaced. The rumor mill said he'd killed a woman with his bare hands. It was close enough to the truth, she supposed. She and her cousin Lily had been staying in the city with her brother when it had happened. The two girls had been far too curious for their own good and decided to follow the young man on one of his mysterious nightly outings. Through some sick twist of fate it had been the very night Brody met with the destitute whore named Madie. She'd been no rare beauty, but she was pretty enough and still young. It quickly became apparent that the ale her brother had downed before leaving the house didn't have a good effect on his attitude.
As much as either of the girls could figure, giggling as they peered though a grimy window, she asked for payment first. Brody had hit her and in the struggle that ensued she'd knocked her head on the brass doorknob. Madie had fallen unconscious to the floor. The pool of blood that quickly formed beneath her greasy black hair was a telltale sign that she wouldn't be waking up. Shaken and afraid, Mary and Lily had taken off. They didn't stop running until they'd reached Brody's home. They packed at once and had one of the stable boys rig a horse and buggy and drive them to Mary's father's country home.
Her father had been furious. Brody had done his best to keep clear of the family since then. That was probably why he'd chosen Port Royale as the home of his new shipping company. To stay out of his father's eyes so he could do whatever he wanted. That certainly wouldn't work for much longer.
She looked around the room and her eyes lit upon the window. She smiled as she rose and made her way to it. She unlocked it and pushed it open with more than a little struggle—it obviously hadn't been opened in a while. She stuck her head through the opening and looked down. The room was on the first floor so the drop wasn't much of a concern. She knew her brother would notice the open window, but it was better than him noticing her when he returned that evening. Careful not to tear the fabric of her dress, she sat on the windowsill and swung her legs and skirt out of the room, then dropped to the ground. As she landed, she noticed the sharp pain in her shoulder—she must have knocked it into the side of the window. She brushed herself off and did her best to push the window closed from the outside. When she was finished, it remained ajar, but there was a chance her brother wouldn't notice. Creeping back into the house through the back door, she thought back to the paper her brother had taken. She wasn't sure why he'd returned for it, but she was almost certain it was now in his office.
I'll bet that's where he's hiding everything, she thought with a smirk. As she reached for the parasol she'd left by the front door she noticed a tear in her skirt and her mood was immediately dampened once again. I will certainly be glad when this business is over and Brody's out in the cold where he belongs, she mused, climbing the stairs to change her dress.
Author's Note: Whew! Let's just say it's been a looooooooong week. Right now there's people here staining the woodwork—those are some interesting fumes.o.0;; Anyway, I originally uploaded this chapter without a note and I figured I ought to amend that little detail. It was one in the morning, after all, I forgot…Gomen!.
A great big thank you to Yvie, Altachica and Damaia for the information on biting gold! I've seen it in movies and I wasn't certain whether or not it was a Hollywood fabrication.^_^;;
Another great big thank you to everybody who reviewed! *huggles the breath out of all of them* I feel extremely bad about dropping the ball and getting this chapter out a week late. Gomen nasai!
Chapter eleven should be up pretty soon. Tonight I'm going to dinner with my brothers, then I'm going to a lecture by Terry Goodkind (he writes the Sword of Truth books—great fantasy!^_^), but I should be able to get some work done before then.
Thanks for reading!^_^