Okies, next chappy!
Hope you peoples are enjoying this! I like writing it, but that is obviously no guarantee that you like it. Oh well.
Regular, no-change disclaimer.
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Chapter Four - Sweet Words and Sour Actions
Ana turned, still trying to catch her breath. It was lieutenant Darman. He stood behind her, not exactly smiling, but not frowning. He never smiled.
"Oh, Lieutenant Darman! What a nice surprise."
Ana beamed falsely. The man seemed peeved by the sight of her actually using her face to convey emotion. It was definitely an alien concept to him.
"I was wondering whether you would do me the honour of gracing me with your presence on the dance floor?"
Ana nearly laughed aloud. So many words for a simple request. It was obvious her father had been busy persuading him to ask her. Particularly after the last time. Ana had been decidedly frosty on that occasion.
"Why of course."
She poked her hand at him, beaming like a lunatic and giggling fiercely. Darman looked away, almost appalled. Ana grabbed his wrist, and began to swing his arm in an overly enthusiastic manner. Skipping merrily and swaying deliberately, Ana dragged the hapless man to the clockwork like dancers already twirling to and fro.
Jack was surrounded on all sides. Girls giggling foolishly, girls hanging on his arm, girls listening to his witty conversation. He was the envy of the entire, single male population of the room. Nearly all the unattached young women were crowded round him, smiling sweetly at him.
He hated it. No, he loathed it. It was all so false. Everyone pretending to be someone else. Even he acting like the posh, upper class rich boy his father wanted him to be. He couldn't help it. He'd been brought up to it. He'd resisted since he could talk, done everything against the grain of society, and yet on social occasions, he became just like everyone else. He was pathetic.
"Oh, Jack will you dance with me next?"
"Oh no Jack not her! Me!"
Another girl entwined her fingers with his, and widened her eyes beautifully. Gazing up into his. Jack disentangled himself, and began making his apologies. Writhing and slipping out of the feminine crowd, he hastened to the door to the balcony. On his way, he passed Ana, dangling off the arm of Lieutenant Darman, making cooing noises, and generally being embarrassing. Silently Jack cheered her on.
The air was cooler out here. He could see the sea. Watching the moonlight rippling over it's surface like the water itself, Jack could remember his mother. He could see snippets of her with his mind's eye. He could recollect quick flashes of her voice. Nothing more though.
He heard heavy footsteps behind him. He already knew who was there.
"Jackarius."
The voice was stern. Harsh. There was a definite French accent to it.
"Father."
Jack turned. His father was a tall, imposing man. Not thin, but not fat either. Lithe, would be a good word. His voice was still deep and commanding. He looked at his son in annoyance. Jack never did anything he was told.
"I saw you speaking with the young ladies."
"Well I was."
"Yes, but any progress? Who is it you intend to marry?"
Jack shrugged. His father drew himself up angrily. He was fed up with this. Jack should be looking out for someone, preferably rich. Instead he did nothing.
"Jackarius, you will marry on your eighteenth birthday, whether you choose the girl, or I do!"
Jack glowered at his father. He didn't like thinking of the man as that, but it was an unfortunate truth. He preferred to think of him as 'murderer'.
"If you choose, Father, you'll probably be round after two weeks of the marriage to kill my wife on the grounds of being a pirate!"
. . .The punch had stung. Jack rubbed his jaw ruefully, staring blankly at the bedroom door. At least he had escaped the dance. There was a red mark appearing on the left side of his face. Jack didn't mind. The music was still loud downstairs. Jack flopped back on the bed, and drifted into a peaceful doze.
Ana had now danced several times with Darman. He seemed unable to take any more. Several people had already left the house, and were on their way home. Ana bid farewell to most of them, before retiring to her room.
Jack's bedroom door was closed. She could hear snoring. Ana carried on along the corridor. As she laid a hand on her door handle, a high-pitched voice screeched;
"Ana-Maria!"
She turned to see her stepmother, Miranda. The sharp-featured woman advanced, her dress, which was more of a tent, swaying like a treetop around her waist.
"I saw you dancing disgracefully with Lieutenant Darman. It was a despicable thing to do. Dirtying the family name, you and your horrid brother."
Ana smiled, somewhat evilly. Miranda screeched again, and tried to lash out. Her long, sharp nails caught Ana on the cheek. Two short, thin lines streaked their way across her face.
Gasping with shock more than pain, Ana waited until she sensed blood on her skin. Wiping her fingers across the wound, she grabbed at her stepmothers dress, wiping as much of the red liquid onto the fabric as possible.
Another enraged squeal followed, but Ana was quick. Wrenching the door open, she shot inside, and banged it shut, forcing the lock closed. Ana began changing from her impractical and detested corset, to her nightwear. Outside, Miranda's shouts and fierce banging spoilt the silent upper-floors of the Moineau household. Across the hallway, Jack opened his eyes and groaned.
Hope you peoples are enjoying this! I like writing it, but that is obviously no guarantee that you like it. Oh well.
Regular, no-change disclaimer.
***********************************************************
Chapter Four - Sweet Words and Sour Actions
Ana turned, still trying to catch her breath. It was lieutenant Darman. He stood behind her, not exactly smiling, but not frowning. He never smiled.
"Oh, Lieutenant Darman! What a nice surprise."
Ana beamed falsely. The man seemed peeved by the sight of her actually using her face to convey emotion. It was definitely an alien concept to him.
"I was wondering whether you would do me the honour of gracing me with your presence on the dance floor?"
Ana nearly laughed aloud. So many words for a simple request. It was obvious her father had been busy persuading him to ask her. Particularly after the last time. Ana had been decidedly frosty on that occasion.
"Why of course."
She poked her hand at him, beaming like a lunatic and giggling fiercely. Darman looked away, almost appalled. Ana grabbed his wrist, and began to swing his arm in an overly enthusiastic manner. Skipping merrily and swaying deliberately, Ana dragged the hapless man to the clockwork like dancers already twirling to and fro.
Jack was surrounded on all sides. Girls giggling foolishly, girls hanging on his arm, girls listening to his witty conversation. He was the envy of the entire, single male population of the room. Nearly all the unattached young women were crowded round him, smiling sweetly at him.
He hated it. No, he loathed it. It was all so false. Everyone pretending to be someone else. Even he acting like the posh, upper class rich boy his father wanted him to be. He couldn't help it. He'd been brought up to it. He'd resisted since he could talk, done everything against the grain of society, and yet on social occasions, he became just like everyone else. He was pathetic.
"Oh, Jack will you dance with me next?"
"Oh no Jack not her! Me!"
Another girl entwined her fingers with his, and widened her eyes beautifully. Gazing up into his. Jack disentangled himself, and began making his apologies. Writhing and slipping out of the feminine crowd, he hastened to the door to the balcony. On his way, he passed Ana, dangling off the arm of Lieutenant Darman, making cooing noises, and generally being embarrassing. Silently Jack cheered her on.
The air was cooler out here. He could see the sea. Watching the moonlight rippling over it's surface like the water itself, Jack could remember his mother. He could see snippets of her with his mind's eye. He could recollect quick flashes of her voice. Nothing more though.
He heard heavy footsteps behind him. He already knew who was there.
"Jackarius."
The voice was stern. Harsh. There was a definite French accent to it.
"Father."
Jack turned. His father was a tall, imposing man. Not thin, but not fat either. Lithe, would be a good word. His voice was still deep and commanding. He looked at his son in annoyance. Jack never did anything he was told.
"I saw you speaking with the young ladies."
"Well I was."
"Yes, but any progress? Who is it you intend to marry?"
Jack shrugged. His father drew himself up angrily. He was fed up with this. Jack should be looking out for someone, preferably rich. Instead he did nothing.
"Jackarius, you will marry on your eighteenth birthday, whether you choose the girl, or I do!"
Jack glowered at his father. He didn't like thinking of the man as that, but it was an unfortunate truth. He preferred to think of him as 'murderer'.
"If you choose, Father, you'll probably be round after two weeks of the marriage to kill my wife on the grounds of being a pirate!"
. . .The punch had stung. Jack rubbed his jaw ruefully, staring blankly at the bedroom door. At least he had escaped the dance. There was a red mark appearing on the left side of his face. Jack didn't mind. The music was still loud downstairs. Jack flopped back on the bed, and drifted into a peaceful doze.
Ana had now danced several times with Darman. He seemed unable to take any more. Several people had already left the house, and were on their way home. Ana bid farewell to most of them, before retiring to her room.
Jack's bedroom door was closed. She could hear snoring. Ana carried on along the corridor. As she laid a hand on her door handle, a high-pitched voice screeched;
"Ana-Maria!"
She turned to see her stepmother, Miranda. The sharp-featured woman advanced, her dress, which was more of a tent, swaying like a treetop around her waist.
"I saw you dancing disgracefully with Lieutenant Darman. It was a despicable thing to do. Dirtying the family name, you and your horrid brother."
Ana smiled, somewhat evilly. Miranda screeched again, and tried to lash out. Her long, sharp nails caught Ana on the cheek. Two short, thin lines streaked their way across her face.
Gasping with shock more than pain, Ana waited until she sensed blood on her skin. Wiping her fingers across the wound, she grabbed at her stepmothers dress, wiping as much of the red liquid onto the fabric as possible.
Another enraged squeal followed, but Ana was quick. Wrenching the door open, she shot inside, and banged it shut, forcing the lock closed. Ana began changing from her impractical and detested corset, to her nightwear. Outside, Miranda's shouts and fierce banging spoilt the silent upper-floors of the Moineau household. Across the hallway, Jack opened his eyes and groaned.