Usual disclaimers... pah! Disney may own the Captain, but he is still ours!
Mwhahahahaha!
***
Mid December
Catherine did not get a chance to speak with Isaac again before they arrived at London. She had never been to the city and stood in silence, awed by the scale of the buildings. Suddenly she felt very provincial and out of place. She wondered what Isaac thought of it? To him Port Royal was big, London must be incomprehensible. Now that Paul Breffney needed his own coat back, a thick woollen blanket had been found for her and she stood shivering on dockside waiting for Stephen Waike to finalise his paperwork. Eventually he emerged from the Customs House and he offered her his arm. "Come then, let me introduce you to the family..."
"I can't wait," she retorted sarcastically, refusing his arm in preference of keeping the blanket more firmly wrapped about her. She felt like a beggar, despite her fine dress beneath and did not want to meet anyone in such circumstances, let alone her husband's family.
"Hold your tongue!" Stephen glared. "You will be civil whilst you stay with Mother and Father!"
"What? Am I to be deprived of your delightful company?" she sniped. "How will I cope?"
"My wife and I live nearby," he smiled. "You will see me often!"
"Pity," she muttered sourly, before an angry glower from him persuaded her that silence might for now be a good option. "Well lead on then! It isn't as if I know the way, is it?"
Stephen chose to ignore her sarcasm and led the way through the thronging streets to a more genteel district. They approached an imposing town house - four stories tall, large bay windows flanking an imposing doorway. He walked briskly up the steps, the door opening as he approached.
"Ah, Master Stephen," a liveried butler bowed respectfully. "Your father is expecting you in the conservatory..." He looked at Catherine in puzzlement as he took Stephen's wet coat, unsure how to react when she handed him the wet blanket, smoothing her skirts and trying to make herself look presentable.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"This way!" Stephen led the way through the house to a large conservatory where an elderly man sat sipping tea whilst looking over some papers. Although grey he was clearly Stephen's father - he had the same thickset build and face. Stephen waited quietly for his father to notice him. Eventually he looked up.
"Stephen," he nodded, his eyes slowly considering Catherine as he spoke. "How was Cape Town?"
"Hot, very hot Father," he reported. "But more profitable than we could ever have hoped for."
"In what way?" George Waike looked at his son, puzzled at the triumphant smile on his face.
"Father, may I present Mistress Catherine Waike to you - John's wife!" he smiled, grabbing her wrist and forcing Catherine forwards.
Catherine snatched her wrist from his grasp. "My name is Sparrow!" she hissed angrily.
"John is alive?" George Waike gasped. "What? How?"
"I do not know Father," Stephen admitted, "but it appears he survived and has become as a pirate!"
"A pirate..." he mused, looking at Catherine. "And what does that make you?"
"Happy," she sneered. "Although Jack won't be when he gets here!"
"Jack?" George looked questioningly at his son.
"It appears his given name is not good enough for him Father," Stephen explained. "He goes under the name of Jack Sparrow..."
"That's Captain Jack Sparrow to you," Catherine muttered sourly, ignoring the furious glare of Stephen.
"But why..." George began.
"Oh for crying out loud," Catherine sighed. "Can we just cut the small talk? Jack might have left accidentally but he won't be returning accidentally. And he won't take my abduction too kindly either - savvy?"
Stephen placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging deeply into her skin. "I told you to keep a civil tongue in your head!" he warned.
"And I told you to keep your hands off me!" she hissed, bringing her knee sharply up against his groin. Stephen collapsed in agony, dragging her to the floor with him, a tall jardinière crashing on the stone floor as they wrestled. More plants fell.
"Stephen!" A woman's voice cut across the cursing. "My plants!"
Stephen's hand found Catherine's throat, tightening until she stopped struggling. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't finish this?" he snarled.
"Jack," she croaked, relieved when his hands eased their pressure.
"Stephen! What on earth is going on?" Catherine twisted her head slightly to see a grey haired woman standing in the doorway, her face aghast with shock. Servants clustered behind her, eyes wide.
"It appears our John is alive," George Waike informed her dryly. "And he is married..."
"John is alive!" the woman gasped, staring at Catherine in shock.
For the first time Catherine saw delight at the news. She assumed the woman must be Jack's mother.
Stephen staggered to his feet, pointedly refusing to help Catherine who stood somewhat groggily, brushing her skirts off amongst the ruined plants.
George spotted the servants clustered behind his wife. "Have you people no work to do?" he ordered crossly, pleased when they rapidly disappeared. "Perhaps we had better retire to the drawing room Stephen whilst this mess is cleared up." He looked at his wife as he gathered his papers. "And perhaps you could instruct our guest on proper behaviour Rose? She will need to be cleaned up before dinner!"
"Yes George," she assured him. "Please, come with me dear..." Catherine slowly followed, carefully picking her way over the broken jardinière. "I don't believe Stephen introduced us," she smiled. "I am Rose, Stephen's mother... and John's." She looked hopefully at Catherine. "Is he truly alive?"
"He is," she replied warily as she followed the woman up the stairs, wondering how much she should trust the woman. Jack had clearly loved his mother, enough to stand against his father when only twelve years old, but times change and she was unsure if anything she said would be relayed to George.
"Is John well... how long have you been married... do you have children...." She opened a doorway leading into a feminine bedroom. "Please... tell me!" she begged.
Catherine sighed, finding herself staring into yet another pair of chocolate brown eyes. "I don't know what I can tell you," she admitted quietly. "Jack tends to like his privacy - even I did not know you existed until we met Stephen in Cape Town."
"I cannot say I blame you," Rose said sadly. "But please... I have thought him dead for over twenty years... anything would be something to me."
Catherine felt guilty on seeing the grief on the older woman's face, but she knew she would have to tread carefully until she knew where loyalties in the household lay. She sat down on the window seat, looking out at the public park in the square beyond. "Alright, I know your son as Jack Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow to give him his proper title. His ship is the Black Pearl and she is the fastest ship in the Caribbean..."
"So he took to the sea," Rose mused. "Can you tell me more?"
"He is about, oh, so high..." Catherine held her hand above her head to indicate his height. "And he has dark black-brown hair and he has your eyes. He is slim, muscled..."
Rose interrupted. "You clearly love him," she said quietly.
"Very much," Catherine admitted warmly. "He is irascible, irreverent, crazy..." she paused, a smile on her lips. "Often drunk," she admitted, "loyal, honourable... and if need be lethal."
"Lethal?" Rose frowned.
"I've never known him to kill without reason," she smiled reassuringly. "He may be a pirate but he is a good man."
"Will he come for you?" she asked hopefully.
"It isn't a case of will, more of when. Last I saw of the Pearl she was high-tailing it away from Cape Town with a frigate up her... I mean, chasing her."
"A frigate!" Rose gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
"Jack'll lose her," Catherine shrugged. "Although if it's the same ship that chased us from Singapore then she had to be short of water..."
"A frigate chased you from... no, I don't want to know. Your life sounds too frightening for me..." Rose quailed.
"It has its moments," Catherine grinned.
"I am sure," Rose replied doubtfully. "But I think we should try to get you cleaned up before dinner. George will be cross if we are not ready..."
"Does he still hit you?" Catherine asked quietly.
"What?" Rose paled. "Who told you... John?"
"It is one of the few things he did tell me..." she admitted.
"We had better get you out of that dress and into the bath. Here, let me help you with those laces. I will get one of the maids to clean it for you as best they can. I don't think I've ever seen such an unusual design...and such a pretty shade of green..."
"It's French... well, from New Orleans actually..." Catherine shrugged. "Jean Claude bought it for me..."
"Jean Claude?" Rose frowned.
"Jean Claude Lact," she smiled.
"I have heard the name Lact..." Rose admitted. "A pirate!"
"I should hope so," Catherine laughed. "He's our quartermaster!"
"I..." Rose started quietly chuckling to herself. "And my son is too! That will take some getting used to. Come, let us get ready..." Catherine turned to allow Rose to untie her laces, shrugging the dress off. "My..." she gasped.
"Just old scars... you were saying something about a bath?" Catherine said hopefully.
Rose led her to one of the two doors leading off her bedroom to a beautiful bathroom. Catherine gasped in delight at the enamelled bath that had already been filled with hot water. She sighed, running her hand through the water, sniffing it. "Fresh water," she muttered. "Luxury!"
"If you pass your clothes through the door to me the maid will see that they are laundered," Rose offered. "I am afraid I don't have anything that will fit you..."
"That is alright," Catherine smiled.
"I will send for my dressmaker tomorrow though," Rose advised. "I cannot have my daughter-in-law with only a thin cotton dress to wear!"
"Would she be scandalised to make trousers and shirts?" she asked hopefully, sliding out of her undershift and undergarments before passing them through the door to Rose.
"Catherine!" Rose gasped.
"I'll take that as a yes then," Catherine sighed heavily, turning to the bath. A small gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as she slid into the scented bathwater. Running her fingers along the assorted bottles, lotions and soaps on the side of the bath, she eventually settled on a luxurious bar of soap with a rich rose scent. For a moment she thought of her own perfume, but that was far away on the Black Pearl.
Where was Jack? For a moment the dark thoughts that the frigate had caught them crept into her mind, but she shook her head. No, he was Captain Jack Sparrow and his ship was the Black Pearl. He would come for her, however far he had to go.
***
***
Mid December
Catherine did not get a chance to speak with Isaac again before they arrived at London. She had never been to the city and stood in silence, awed by the scale of the buildings. Suddenly she felt very provincial and out of place. She wondered what Isaac thought of it? To him Port Royal was big, London must be incomprehensible. Now that Paul Breffney needed his own coat back, a thick woollen blanket had been found for her and she stood shivering on dockside waiting for Stephen Waike to finalise his paperwork. Eventually he emerged from the Customs House and he offered her his arm. "Come then, let me introduce you to the family..."
"I can't wait," she retorted sarcastically, refusing his arm in preference of keeping the blanket more firmly wrapped about her. She felt like a beggar, despite her fine dress beneath and did not want to meet anyone in such circumstances, let alone her husband's family.
"Hold your tongue!" Stephen glared. "You will be civil whilst you stay with Mother and Father!"
"What? Am I to be deprived of your delightful company?" she sniped. "How will I cope?"
"My wife and I live nearby," he smiled. "You will see me often!"
"Pity," she muttered sourly, before an angry glower from him persuaded her that silence might for now be a good option. "Well lead on then! It isn't as if I know the way, is it?"
Stephen chose to ignore her sarcasm and led the way through the thronging streets to a more genteel district. They approached an imposing town house - four stories tall, large bay windows flanking an imposing doorway. He walked briskly up the steps, the door opening as he approached.
"Ah, Master Stephen," a liveried butler bowed respectfully. "Your father is expecting you in the conservatory..." He looked at Catherine in puzzlement as he took Stephen's wet coat, unsure how to react when she handed him the wet blanket, smoothing her skirts and trying to make herself look presentable.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"This way!" Stephen led the way through the house to a large conservatory where an elderly man sat sipping tea whilst looking over some papers. Although grey he was clearly Stephen's father - he had the same thickset build and face. Stephen waited quietly for his father to notice him. Eventually he looked up.
"Stephen," he nodded, his eyes slowly considering Catherine as he spoke. "How was Cape Town?"
"Hot, very hot Father," he reported. "But more profitable than we could ever have hoped for."
"In what way?" George Waike looked at his son, puzzled at the triumphant smile on his face.
"Father, may I present Mistress Catherine Waike to you - John's wife!" he smiled, grabbing her wrist and forcing Catherine forwards.
Catherine snatched her wrist from his grasp. "My name is Sparrow!" she hissed angrily.
"John is alive?" George Waike gasped. "What? How?"
"I do not know Father," Stephen admitted, "but it appears he survived and has become as a pirate!"
"A pirate..." he mused, looking at Catherine. "And what does that make you?"
"Happy," she sneered. "Although Jack won't be when he gets here!"
"Jack?" George looked questioningly at his son.
"It appears his given name is not good enough for him Father," Stephen explained. "He goes under the name of Jack Sparrow..."
"That's Captain Jack Sparrow to you," Catherine muttered sourly, ignoring the furious glare of Stephen.
"But why..." George began.
"Oh for crying out loud," Catherine sighed. "Can we just cut the small talk? Jack might have left accidentally but he won't be returning accidentally. And he won't take my abduction too kindly either - savvy?"
Stephen placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging deeply into her skin. "I told you to keep a civil tongue in your head!" he warned.
"And I told you to keep your hands off me!" she hissed, bringing her knee sharply up against his groin. Stephen collapsed in agony, dragging her to the floor with him, a tall jardinière crashing on the stone floor as they wrestled. More plants fell.
"Stephen!" A woman's voice cut across the cursing. "My plants!"
Stephen's hand found Catherine's throat, tightening until she stopped struggling. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't finish this?" he snarled.
"Jack," she croaked, relieved when his hands eased their pressure.
"Stephen! What on earth is going on?" Catherine twisted her head slightly to see a grey haired woman standing in the doorway, her face aghast with shock. Servants clustered behind her, eyes wide.
"It appears our John is alive," George Waike informed her dryly. "And he is married..."
"John is alive!" the woman gasped, staring at Catherine in shock.
For the first time Catherine saw delight at the news. She assumed the woman must be Jack's mother.
Stephen staggered to his feet, pointedly refusing to help Catherine who stood somewhat groggily, brushing her skirts off amongst the ruined plants.
George spotted the servants clustered behind his wife. "Have you people no work to do?" he ordered crossly, pleased when they rapidly disappeared. "Perhaps we had better retire to the drawing room Stephen whilst this mess is cleared up." He looked at his wife as he gathered his papers. "And perhaps you could instruct our guest on proper behaviour Rose? She will need to be cleaned up before dinner!"
"Yes George," she assured him. "Please, come with me dear..." Catherine slowly followed, carefully picking her way over the broken jardinière. "I don't believe Stephen introduced us," she smiled. "I am Rose, Stephen's mother... and John's." She looked hopefully at Catherine. "Is he truly alive?"
"He is," she replied warily as she followed the woman up the stairs, wondering how much she should trust the woman. Jack had clearly loved his mother, enough to stand against his father when only twelve years old, but times change and she was unsure if anything she said would be relayed to George.
"Is John well... how long have you been married... do you have children...." She opened a doorway leading into a feminine bedroom. "Please... tell me!" she begged.
Catherine sighed, finding herself staring into yet another pair of chocolate brown eyes. "I don't know what I can tell you," she admitted quietly. "Jack tends to like his privacy - even I did not know you existed until we met Stephen in Cape Town."
"I cannot say I blame you," Rose said sadly. "But please... I have thought him dead for over twenty years... anything would be something to me."
Catherine felt guilty on seeing the grief on the older woman's face, but she knew she would have to tread carefully until she knew where loyalties in the household lay. She sat down on the window seat, looking out at the public park in the square beyond. "Alright, I know your son as Jack Sparrow - Captain Jack Sparrow to give him his proper title. His ship is the Black Pearl and she is the fastest ship in the Caribbean..."
"So he took to the sea," Rose mused. "Can you tell me more?"
"He is about, oh, so high..." Catherine held her hand above her head to indicate his height. "And he has dark black-brown hair and he has your eyes. He is slim, muscled..."
Rose interrupted. "You clearly love him," she said quietly.
"Very much," Catherine admitted warmly. "He is irascible, irreverent, crazy..." she paused, a smile on her lips. "Often drunk," she admitted, "loyal, honourable... and if need be lethal."
"Lethal?" Rose frowned.
"I've never known him to kill without reason," she smiled reassuringly. "He may be a pirate but he is a good man."
"Will he come for you?" she asked hopefully.
"It isn't a case of will, more of when. Last I saw of the Pearl she was high-tailing it away from Cape Town with a frigate up her... I mean, chasing her."
"A frigate!" Rose gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
"Jack'll lose her," Catherine shrugged. "Although if it's the same ship that chased us from Singapore then she had to be short of water..."
"A frigate chased you from... no, I don't want to know. Your life sounds too frightening for me..." Rose quailed.
"It has its moments," Catherine grinned.
"I am sure," Rose replied doubtfully. "But I think we should try to get you cleaned up before dinner. George will be cross if we are not ready..."
"Does he still hit you?" Catherine asked quietly.
"What?" Rose paled. "Who told you... John?"
"It is one of the few things he did tell me..." she admitted.
"We had better get you out of that dress and into the bath. Here, let me help you with those laces. I will get one of the maids to clean it for you as best they can. I don't think I've ever seen such an unusual design...and such a pretty shade of green..."
"It's French... well, from New Orleans actually..." Catherine shrugged. "Jean Claude bought it for me..."
"Jean Claude?" Rose frowned.
"Jean Claude Lact," she smiled.
"I have heard the name Lact..." Rose admitted. "A pirate!"
"I should hope so," Catherine laughed. "He's our quartermaster!"
"I..." Rose started quietly chuckling to herself. "And my son is too! That will take some getting used to. Come, let us get ready..." Catherine turned to allow Rose to untie her laces, shrugging the dress off. "My..." she gasped.
"Just old scars... you were saying something about a bath?" Catherine said hopefully.
Rose led her to one of the two doors leading off her bedroom to a beautiful bathroom. Catherine gasped in delight at the enamelled bath that had already been filled with hot water. She sighed, running her hand through the water, sniffing it. "Fresh water," she muttered. "Luxury!"
"If you pass your clothes through the door to me the maid will see that they are laundered," Rose offered. "I am afraid I don't have anything that will fit you..."
"That is alright," Catherine smiled.
"I will send for my dressmaker tomorrow though," Rose advised. "I cannot have my daughter-in-law with only a thin cotton dress to wear!"
"Would she be scandalised to make trousers and shirts?" she asked hopefully, sliding out of her undershift and undergarments before passing them through the door to Rose.
"Catherine!" Rose gasped.
"I'll take that as a yes then," Catherine sighed heavily, turning to the bath. A small gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as she slid into the scented bathwater. Running her fingers along the assorted bottles, lotions and soaps on the side of the bath, she eventually settled on a luxurious bar of soap with a rich rose scent. For a moment she thought of her own perfume, but that was far away on the Black Pearl.
Where was Jack? For a moment the dark thoughts that the frigate had caught them crept into her mind, but she shook her head. No, he was Captain Jack Sparrow and his ship was the Black Pearl. He would come for her, however far he had to go.
***