Chapter Ten: Spanish Night

Part 1 – The Reception

Leaning back against the squabs of the Corozón's carriage as it made its way up the road and into the moonlit hills, Henrietta Sparrow listened less than attentively to the conversation of her companions, being preoccupied with various Distractions. One of these was the delightful sensation of surreptitiously returning the caress of her husband's fingers (those of the closer right hand, the left being engaged in illustrating his words). Another was the comfortable and really very gratifying reflection that she had rarely been more content. Although she did not miss her life back in England, with its endless rounds of balls, card parties, formal dinners and other society entertainments, she did very much enjoy attending such functions here in the Caribbean, and never more so than when Jack was by her side. This was, unfortunately, unusual enough to qualify as a Special Occasion.

They had been married for over seven years, but had actually lived together rather less than half that time. Such was the lot of a sailor and a sailor's wife. Jack was no ordinary sailor, of course: his business was far more dangerous than that. But Harry had accepted this, and his long absences, from the start of their marriage. She had steeled herself against worry and heartache, and loneliness, too, and she had done her best to avoid burdening Jack with outward signs of distress. She had resolved from the beginning that, if they must be 'leg-shackled', their precious time together would be focused on the joys of life. On the whole, she felt she had been successful in this resolve.

Of course there was that second Christmas, the one of which she'd reminded Jack. The Black Pearl had been caught in a dreadful storm, early in the season, and had taken such damage that its loss, including all hands, had been feared. Thank God she'd been at their little cove, away from the plantation, when he'd found her on his return, for her stoicism and reserve had quite failed her at the sight of him, after weeks of forlorn and desperate hope.

And then there was the black time when she had lost her baby girl. Though Jack had been many leagues away, he had somehow sensed something was wrong and had turned the Pearl toward home, stopping briefly at Port Royal to find that the doctor and the Turners had been summoned to St. Claire. The Black Pearl had sailed into the South Bay only a few days after it was all over. Harry had been too ill and weak to conceal her grief, but he had been very patient in comforting her, perhaps because he had needed comforting himself. That was the first time she'd realized he'd not only reconciled himself to her condition, but that he had actually been anticipating the baby with joy. It was a continuing sorrow that she could bear no more children, but the burden was made lighter because it was shared.

But perhaps it was all for the best. Tom was growing up, and his parents were poised on the brink of change, a change that could mean a new sort of life for them all.

Over the years, Jack had told Harry a great deal about his travels, which had taken him all over the world, on ships of every size. There had been exotic sights, adventures and new people to meet around every corner. It was a grand life, an exciting life, and he'd given Harry and Tom a taste of it when he'd taken them to Europe, after… after the black time. And now Harry wanted more of it. She wanted more of shipboard life, of stormy nights, and pearly dawns, and the sound of water lapping against the stern tugging her awake; of dinners by candlelight in the great cabin, or rum and ship's biscuit in the fo'c'sle while O'Brien played his fiddle; of quiet times watching the sun set over foreign shores; of delight, and danger, sharing hardship and good fortune; of feeling completely alive and free. She wanted her little son to have both his mother and his father beside him as he grew to be a man. And she wanted to be with Jack, every morning and every night, to work with him and walk with him, and care for him.

She knew quite well that Jack had doubts about this scheme. But things were different now than they'd been on that trip to Italy. She was once again in blooming health, and quite capable of doing her part in a business venture, as well as helping with… domestic matters. Her lips, ever so lightly rouged for the reception, curved in a little smile at the scope of 'domestic matters', and she glanced up at Jack.

He noticed her scrutiny immediately, and turned to her, lifting a brow and smiling back. "You've been awfully quiet, Mrs. Sparrow," he murmured.

"Just enjoying the company," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm having such a good time!"

Jack lifted her hand, placing a kiss on her fingers, and even as she felt herself coloring with pleasure at the touch of his lips she vowed she would prove herself an asset to him. She had a level head, and knew how to use it when the need arose.

o-o-o

Don Esparza lifted her hand, kissing the air just above her fingers, and Harry paled slightly, repressing a shudder. Then the oily villain said, "And may I present to you my friend and guest, Don Carlos Nuñez y Silva. He is visiting from the little town on Hispañola where he is mayor," and Harry felt Jack stiffen almost imperceptibly.

Harry curtsied to the round, mustachioed little man, and he and Jack exchanged bows.

Don Carlos said to them, "My wife…she is here somewhere, though not by my side at present, as you see. She will want to meet you, Doña Byrd, and also the wife of our esteemed Don Corozón. I will bring her to you, later in the evening."

Harry smiled and murmured her pleasure at the prospect, and Jack nodded and took Harry's arm, steering her away and toward the deserted refreshment tables. "What is it?" Harry hissed.

"Need a drink," Jack said, quietly. "That Nuñez y Silva fella: d'you not remember that name?"

"It did seem familiar…" Harry frowned. "You know him, then?"

"He was the mayor of Santo Christobal—where Owens came from."

They had reached the tables, and he proceeded to pour himself a splash of brandy, tossed it off, and poured another.

"Owens…" Memory came flooding back, and Harry looked up at her husband with horror in her eyes. "Those were the people for whom Owens worked? The ones that…"

"'Twas the wife, mostly, from what Owens told us. You should've seen the marks on the lad, and for the least thing-- or nothin' at all, I suspect. She's here, somewhere, and I don't bloody know what she looks like!"

"You never saw her?"

"She was under the bed, screechin', while I was in their room. Caught a glimpse of her hangin' out the window, of course, before I shot the flowerpot next to her. Be brave, my love! Do not tell heem! Bloody hell!"

"Perhaps she didn't see much of you, either. And, in any case, your disguise is good. She won't know you."

"Juana did!"

"Well, yes," agreed Harry. "But she remembered you with eyes of love. I doubt the señora wanted to remember!"

Jack saw the logic of this, and his expression lightened. "'Eyes of love', eh?" he teased.

"Of course, Malvado," Harry said with a chuckle. "How could she help it? But the señora saw only an evil pirate abusing her husband. It is not the same at all. And look at you!" She stood back a little and did so, smiling at the slim figure: heeled shoes with diamond buckles, clocked stockings, fitted blue satin breeches, a white shirt of fine lawn, elegant waistcoat (elaborately embroidered in the Chinese style), and flowing justaucorps. And long, dark curls framing a clean-shaven face that was so much more than merely handsome. Harry's eyes twinkled. "I could devour you whole, you are so delicious!"

Jack laughed. "You're looking quite edible yourself, love, but that sort of repast will have to wait 'til later." He looked around at the company once more, then took her hand. "P'rhaps you're right: the disguise is likely deep enough. But keep a sharp eye, and we'd best leave as soon as may be. Come: we'll let James and the Corozóns know what's in the wind."

Juana and Don Alejandro were concerned at Jack's tale, but James appeared to be somewhat exasperated. "It is to be hoped this woman will not know you, dressed as you are. But indeed, I believe you should leave as soon as possible. There is no particular reason for you to be here, after all. Harry: perhaps you can fall into a faint, so that your notorious spouse will be obliged to see you home."

"Faint! But how poor spirited. I never faint!"

"Yes, you do," said Jack, accusingly.

Harry flushed. "Only that once! And it was excessively hot. And I was increasing!"

Jack chuckled, eyes alight at her annoyance. "So you were—and you look remarkably lively tonight. It'd maybe be best if you turned an ankle instead. We'll have a dance, and then I can sweep you up and carry you from the room. What say you?"

Harry ground her teeth. "I say it will make me look devilish clumsy! But I suppose needs must."

"No worries: I'll make it up to you later. Listen: they're starting up the dance. M'lady?" Jack held out an arm.

She set her hand on the elegantly clad appendage, and allowed him to lead onto the floor, but said, "I was looking forward to dancing with you all the evening! At least we shall have this one—I will turn my ankle near the end, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, ma'am. I'm entirely at your service."

She dimpled at this, and at the graceful bow he made to her, as he took his place in the formation.

It was a contredance of sorts, with a dozen couples making up the set. The introductory music concluded, and the dance began. Harry and Jack were soon separated by the movements, although they caught each others' eyes occasionally as the dance went on. Harry, as always, was most gratified to see the ease with which Jack moved through the steps of the dance, all the more surprising as he so seldom had the opportunity to practice. Perhaps it was the grace he'd learned from years of swordplay, or a talent gained in his youth, nurtured to impress the females of his acquaintance. She was certainly impressed! As were several other ladies. One of them, a middle-aged señora with a prim mouth and speaking eyes, seemed particularly interested, and Harry's heart gave a lurch as the woman's brows twitched together. Harry had perforce to turn away for a moment, and when the lady next came to view she was saying something to her partner, who nodded in affirmation and inclined his head toward Jack. It cannot be! Harry thought, desperately.

But apparently it was. The movements of the dance brought Jack and the lady together briefly. He smiled, and turned, flouncing off down the line, and the lady actually stopped to gape at him, upsetting the progression of those behind her in the dance.

"That man!" she said, her voice edged with outrage.

Harry determined that it was time to take action. "That man is my husband, lady. Are you all right? Would you like to sit down?"

"Your husband!" The woman turned to Harry as the dancers flowed around them. "Madre de Dios! That man is a pirate! A kidnapper!" She turned away and called out, "Carlos!"

Harry caught the señora by the shoulder, and turned her forcibly, saying, "Madame, I assure you…"

"Your husband!" the senora spat derisively. "Do not touch me, pirate's whore!" She followed this slap with a far more tangible one, the heel of her hand connecting hard with Harry's cheekbone.

Harry gave a startled yelp of mingled pain and outrage, for she had never been struck in all her life, that she could remember (and she certainly would not have forgotten such a humiliation). "How dare you!" she gasped, instantly furious, and grabbed the señora's arm, her nails biting into the puffy flesh.

The señora, who had been in the midst of again demanding her husband's attendance, whipped around, her other arm raised, but her foot slipped on the slick tiles and she shrieked as she lost her balance and fell in a welter of skirts, pulling Harry down to land on top of her.

The señora drummed her heels against the tiles, on the verge of hysterics, and Harry, realizing that discretion was no longer an issue, gleefully silenced her by wrapping deceptively dainty fingers 'round the woman's neck and squeezing for all she was worth: for herself, and for Jack, and especially for Owens. There was a huge tumult going on around them, but Harry, teeth bared and set, was deaf to it, and blind to anything but the delightful sight of the señora's bulging eyes and purpling face.

And then familiar hands grabbed at her, pulling her up, and Jack's voice said in her ear, "Harry, no! Bloody hell, we're for it now!"

Gasping, Harry backed against his comforting form, her cheek throbbing painfully, and looked about her, feeling as though she were waking into a nightmare. There were dress swords bared, and many eyes upon her and Jack, angry ones for the most part, but some that were sympathetic or amused.

The señora's husband finally reached her side, and was helping her up, all solicitude. "Carlos! Carlos, it is the pirate! The one who took our gold and my dresses, and our turkey carpet! The one who kidnapped that boy!"

"But no, my dear…"

"But yes, Carlos! Look at him! Ah, the devil! So fair of face, and all the while laughing at us!"

Señor Nuñez y Silva turned and studied Jack for a long moment, his brows slowly drawing together. "Madre de Dios! You are right, Dolores. He is very like… it is him! Esparza!"

Esparza, whose sword was at the ready, came to stand next to his friend. The Don said, outraged, "This man… this Englishman is a pirate?"

"He is an English privateer, Don Esparza," said Norrington's cool voice from beside Harry and Jack. "He has possessed a Letter of Marque for many years now, and merely does his duty for his king, as do Spaniards of the same ilk."

Don Carlos said, "He is Jack Sparrow! A villainous pirate! He and his men attacked my town, and tortured me to gain information. He is without honor, without scruples!"

"Were any killed in the attack?"

"No, but…"

"What difference does this make?" snapped Esparza.

Norrington said, "You forget we were at war at that time, Don Esparza. It could have been much worse."

The señora said, "He took my servant – one Miguel Owens! Who knows what uses a pirate has for a small boy."

The insinuation was obvious, and Jack and Harry both tensed, angrily. But Norrington placed a collected hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Owens is now also in the employ of the crown, and has proved himself worthy many times," Norrington said, calmly. "He was not taken, Don Esparza, but ran from these, who abused him. Lord and Lady Byrd have been as parents to him these eight years."

"Byrd is not that man's name!" exclaimed the señora, hotly.

"It is one of them, señora," said Norrington. "Do you think there are no others here that go by other names?" The Admiral looked pointedly at Esparza.

Esparza gave a slow, and very evil smile. "So. You know much, it seems. Yet you, Admiral, have brought this man, and his termagant of a wife, into our midst, for what purpose we can only imagine, and I tell you he shall not go free. Not now, and perhaps never."

With a snap of Esparza's fingers, armed guards were summoned. And Harry, her hurts forgotten, heart like a stone, gave a little exclamation of distress and clutched at Jack's beringed hands. She felt him bend and say against her hair, "Courage, lass," and she drew herself up, and glared at Esparza.

Esparza saw her, and his lip curled. He said to Jack, "Though she has done harm to Senora Nuñez y Silva, for the present we shall release your…wife…into the custody of Don Alejandro and Admiral Norrington. You, however, will be taken to El Morro, pirate, for we have many questions to ask you regarding your presence here among us. I advise you to be honest with us, and forthcoming, or the night is not like to be a pleasant one. Guards: take him."

James stepped forward and Harry found herself being gently released to him. "James!" she pleaded, though it seemed useless.

"Hush, Harry," came Norrington's reply. "Don Corozón, will you take charge of Lady Byrd. I will accompany Lord Byrd, and see that protocol is maintained."

"Of course," said Don Alejandro, from where he had stood, watching. "But after I see the lady to my home, I will join you. This incident must not be allowed to disrupt the summit any more than it has already done."

Harry watched in horror as two armed guards seized Jack. He gave her a rueful grimace, and then was turned away, perforce. Norrington gave Harry's arm a light squeeze, and followed. For a moment she was utterly alone and bereft. But then Don Alejandro and Juana were there, on either side.

"Come, my friend," said Juana, quietly. "We will go home, and the men will do what they will do."

Harry swallowed hard, not liking the sound of this at all. She turned to Juana, who met her gaze, but only smiled sadly.

And Don Alejandro said to them both, "Come, my dears: it is time to go home."

o-o-o