Chapter Eight: Truce
Jack pushed the canvas of the tent flap out of the way, almost fuming in his irritation. He had just come back from his usual mid-morning stroll, to check up on the camp, and although the weather was fine, and his men were taking full advantage of it by playing cricket, his First Lieutenant had just informed him of what the lady had told him the night before, and it did not please him at all.
Pullings had just made a very valid point, one that he had not really considered: the fact that Lady Mercia and this Romelien fellow were from the future and thus knew of certain things that could prove destructive for England's position and safety in this war. It had completely slipped his mind that this Romelien could quite possibly be of a very different frame of mind from the Lady Mercia, and so would not mind sharing what he knew - something that could possibly include intelligence that had to be kept out of French hands at all costs.
He huffed, and sank into his chair. He had considered not sending out any search parties to look for the fugitive Frenchman, but now he knew he had to - unless he wanted to hand the French a weapon far more deadly than any long gun that had ever been developed.
Once again, his thoughts turned to the mysterious guest who was now occupying the tent not that far away from where he was. While he was little impressed with her temperament and her attitude, he had to grudgingly admit to himself that she did have her good points: her intelligence not the least amongst those qualities that he found admirable in her. If only she acted more like the lady that she purportedly was, then all would be well.
He looked up as a shaft of sunlight appeared and disappeared on the floor of the tent, and watched as Stephen made his way into the tent, leaning heavily on his cane.
Jack smiled, feeling rather relieved that Stephen was in much better condition than in the previous days. Though he never made a show of it, especially not in front of the men, he had been very worried over the condition of his dear friend. The fact that Stephen was now walking around, and seemed quite healthy at that, made him feel much better.
He cleared his throat to get Stephen's attention. "I thought that you had already gone out to find your bird."
Stephen looked up at him, and shook his head. "Oh no, no, not just yet. I went and checked up on our guest first, and made sure that she was not about to start going against my orders for her to stay in bed."
"Hmmm, yes, she is quite the strong-willed type, is she not?" Jack asked, bemused, watching as Stephen puttered around the tent before heading for the chest that contained their cache of books and sheet music.
Stephen nodded his head absently. "Yes, that is true. Very strong-willed."
"Ah. And you do not find that appealing?"
Stephen looked up from where he was looking through the chest, and glared at Jack. "I do not find it amusing that you seek to play matchmaker between me and the young lady. If all that she has said is true then she shall be returning quite soon to where she has come from. And even if she does not find a way, well, considering how young she is it would be quite inappropriate to have any form of romantic connection with her."
Jack chuckled. "I was merely teasing you, brother."
"Well then, do not tease in that way. If the men hear of it, they will talk, and it will not do to have the young lady's good name and reputation dragged in the dust."
"She does not seem very much concerned about her 'good name and reputation,' as you have called it."
Stephen looked up, and fired a stern glare in Jack's direction. "I know that you are not very fond of her, but I do wish that you would treat her with a minimum of respect. At the very least she respects your authority here, and she has done nothing against it. She spoke out-of-turn once, yes, but consider the fact that she was under quite a bit of stress, not to mention pain, during that time. She is quite polite and well-mannered, when you allow her to be, and when you do the same to her."
Jack grunted noncommittally, and shrugged. Then he realized that Stephen was pulling out various books and piling them onto a nearby tabletop. "Stephen, why in the world are you pulling out those books?"
Stephen gave him a half-smile as he hefted four books into his arms. "I was intending to lend them to the young lady. She does not have much to do, and I believe that reading will keep her occupied. At the very least, it will stop her from wanting to walk around when she should be sitting down."
Jack stood up, and took the books from Stephen. "I shall do it, Stephen. Go on ahead and look for your bird before the daylight runs out."
Stephen raised his eyebrow at him, but stood straighter. "Very well then, do as you will." Just before he exited the tent, he paused, and turned back to Jack. "Remember Jack-"
"Yes, yes, Stephen, I remember," Jack replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Stephen rolled his eyes, and shook his head, but left Jack by himself, a batch of books in his hand.
Jack smirked, and turned from the tent flap to the books in his hand: a strange mix of titles and subjects that included one in Italian that he could not quite understand.
He stood up straighter, and tucked the books under his arm. It was time to face the lioness in her den.
She stared up at the ceiling, trying to fight off boredom by occasionally talking to herself between visualizations of all the things she would do to Romelien when she got her hands on him at last.
She was running through a list of particularly promising torture methods once used by the Barbary States in her head when she heard someone clear his (not "her," because she was the only woman around) throat beyond the tent flap. Since she assumed it was the doctor, she didn't bother to get up, and so she said: "Come on in."
Canvas flapped, but the footsteps she heard coming into the tent did not match the footsteps she had come to associate with Stephen. She raised her head from the pillow, and noticed a tall figure with blonde hair and piercing light-colored eyes standing a few feet away from the bed.
She sat up more fully, and focused her gaze on her visitor. "Ah, Captain Aubrey. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Aubrey smirked at her, and passed a pile of books in her direction. "I have the books that Stephen was planning to lend to you." Here he placed a small pile of books on the table that stood between him and the bed where she was.
She smiled at the volumes as she pulled them towards her, liking the feel of them in her hands. Her mother had been a bibliophile of the first order, and loved nothing more than to collect books and to read them - a love that Mercy had imbibed and grown up with all her life.
"Thank you, Captain," she murmured as she flipped open the cover of one the books, glancing briefly at the illustration of some Greek mural before she closed it and looked up at the person she was speaking to. "Boredom was beginning to drive me right up the wall."
"So it would seem," Aubrey said, chuckling wryly. "I heard you talking. What was this about boiling oil and a nice, sturdy chain?"
Mercy rolled her eyes, and gave the Captain her own wry smile. "Like I said, boredom was driving me right up the wall. I was just thinking about how I'd pay back Romelien for all the trouble he's given me thus far."
"So you would boil him alive in oil?"
"Sure. Why not deep-fry the bastard and then throw him to the sharks? Sounds like good payback, if you ask me."
Aubrey smirked again, and shook his head. He leaned forward on the table, looking down at her. "I could never have imagined that a supposedly well-bred lady such as you could think such dark thoughts."
"Well then, think of it this way: I'm human, just like everybody else, and I have the capability and the right to think such thoughts." She grinned toothily at him, never once taking her gaze away from his. "The only time you really have to worry about anything is when I start putting thought to practice."
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "And do you intend to do that?"
"No. Why should I?"
The Captain nodded, and gazed at her for a while longer before he turned around, and pulled up a stool so that he could sit opposite her.
"Lieutenant Pullings told me about what you had spoken of last night," he said as soon as he had seated himself on the stool, his posture and manner reminding her of Alec: all-business and no-nonsense.
Mercy nodded, sliding into the attitude and posture she adopted whenever she was talking to Alec when he was in the same mind-frame. "Yes, and everything I said to Lieutenant Pullings was true." She paused. "Do you intend to send search parties to look for Romelien?"
"I shall, in a moment." Another smirk curled on Aubrey's lips. "Perhaps you would like to tell me what he looks like, and what he is wearing?"
Mercy smiled. While she might not have been a part of the search team, at the very least something was being done about the current situation. She much preferred doing nothing but knowing that someone else was doing something, than doing nothing and knowing that nothing was being done at all. "He's around five-feet-ten-inches tall, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He's dressed like a French naval officer."
"Ah. Incentive for the men, then."
Mercy tilted her head to the side, looking at the Captain curiously. "Do you really hate the French that much?"
Aubrey slid a small glance in her direction, and she noted the wry smile that curved his mouth. "Well now, that is an interesting question."
He looked away, gazing through the partially-open tent flap out to the sea. At length, he replied: "I suppose that I do. You should talk to Stephen about hating the French: he could tell you quite a few things about Bonaparte. But as for myself, I suppose that I hate them because they are a threat to my country, and to the people I love and hold dear." Here a soft smile crossed his face, and his eyes became unfocused, lost, it seemed, in some distant memory.
Mercy recognized that look: she had seen it often enough on Alec's face, whenever he was thinking about Ami, and, once before, on Tony's when he was looking at her.
She blinked the thought away, and covered it up with a cheeky smile. "Thinking of someone, Captain?"
"Actually, I was," Aubrey replied - a response that took Mercy a bit by surprise. "Of my wife, Sophie."
"Oh. Okay." She leaned back, fingering the books on her lap. "Must be hard for you, being away from her all the time."
Aubrey shrugged. "I write when I can, and I keep a locket with her portrait in it close to me. And while I miss her, I cannot afford to do so, not while England is in danger." He focused his pale gaze on her once more, and smirked. "You must think me hard-hearted for saying that."
"No, I don't." Mercy smiled, hoping that it would cover up some of the more sensitive emotions that had come to the surface.
Aubrey gave her one long, measuring look, before he smiled. This time, there was a decidedly more relaxed character to it, as if he had come to accept something about her that he had refused to accept before. "You are a most unusual woman, Lady Mercy."
Mercy grinned. "That's me: unusual all the way. You ought to hear what my brother calls me sometimes. He can get really creative."
Aubrey chuckled, and stood up. "Well then, I think it would be best if I left you for now. If the Doctor were to see me here I am certain he would demand that I leave before I weary you."
Mercy rolled her eyes. "Sitting on my butt all day is more tiring than having to talk to someone."
Aubrey laughed once more, and bowed to her, before leaving the tent.
Mercy watched him go, and sighed, before turning her attention to the pile of books that sat on her lap.
Thank the gods for inventing printing, she thought as she set the books on top of the table next to her, pulled out the one on top, and proceeded to read.
NOTES:
To the readers who have been following this, I am truly, awfully sorry that I have updated only now. I have had this chapter around for quite some time now, but school, as I said, has been interfering a great deal with my life. If any of you have gone to my profile, I have left an explanation there as to why. Nevertheless, I hope that you will all forgive me – particularly the ones who have been faithfully following this story since it was posted up. I intend to keep my promise of finishing this, so no need to worry about it dying off. It will just take longer to finish, that is all.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
ArcherofDarkness and Callie – Yes, it is a pity what happened to Tony, isn't it? There will be more of that as the story progresses, especially since Pullings seems determined to court Mercy, yet Mercy is still, apparently, in no condition to start a romantic relationship with anyone. Thank you very much for your comment.
Miss Flossy – I am glad that you liked the previous chapter. It was a joy to write Mercy showing her softer side, since she really isn't as hard or as harsh as the Surprises think she is. While it is true that she can be something of a she-devil when she wants to (and that will come to the fore later on in the story, I assure you), she is really quite sweet and kind.
Thank you for complimenting the line. It was something that I thought up when I was in the middle of typing that scene, and I thought that I ought to try and give it a shot. I'm glad that you thought it beautiful.
I am terribly, utterly sorry for having dropped completely off the face of the Internet. School has not been kind of me at all, and has eaten into almost all of my free time. I have other concerns now, mostly to do with thesis and researching for said thesis, so writing fan fiction hasn't really been on the top of my list. I hope that you will forgive me for the delay.
Beautybedamned – Here's the rest of it, as promised, and there is certainly more to come – after I go back and watch the movie again just to refresh my memory.
Lexi – Thank you for the compliment.
Lolita Riddle – I wish Pullings all the luck in the world when it comes to wooing Mercy. She is, as can be told from the previous chapter, in no condition to be wooed, considering how her heart is still in something of a fragile condition after Tony's death.
As for Mercy and the Doctor, well… Some other readers and the Aubrey seem to agree with you, but we all know that the good Doctor will not do something like that – interesting though it might have been.
Pheranna – I'm glad that the chapter got you to write a review. They are always appreciated. Thank you very much, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this story, in spite of its very, very slow progress.
Belphegor – Yes, Mercy does indeed have a wounded heart. It does go to certain lengths in explaining why she is so snappish, as you put it. I suppose it is her way of defending herself, of preventing more heartache from coming to her. It is a psychological thing as far as I understand it…Mercy prevents other people from getting close to her so that they cannot hurt her. It's a painful thing to do, and a painful thing to watch, especially for those who are close to her (like her brother and her best friend).
As for the crew, you will eventually get to see more of them, particularly when the battle of the Acheron begins. I have made a few plans regarding that, and mostly involve some of the crewmen getting saved by Mercy, as well as them saving her, which happens more often than not. As for the lower deck men complaining about having a woman on board, well… I'm still thinking about how I'm going to solve that, and right now it involves a lot of bandages and a change of clothes on Mercy's part – something that she might not like at all. They will not, however, maroon her anywhere on the Galapagos. I don't think the good Doctor would stand for that sort of thing…
Ah, thank you very much for that list of languages! It is a great deal of help that you gave me that list; it has helped me plan out quite a bit of the latter half of the story.
I am terribly sorry if it has taken a long time for this update to go up. I have been horribly busy with schoolwork, what with thesis and research and all, so I hardly have time to sit down and write fan fiction. The next update might take a while to go up, but worry not: I do not plan to leave this story hanging in the air. The same goes for my Mummy story too.
As always, thank you for your continued support and critique of both my stories. You are such a great help in many ways. I can only hope and pray for your patience regarding my very, very slow updating.
galapagosbeetle – Thank you for reviewing all the chapters individually! Not a lot of people have the same patience as you do, and it's very heartwarming to know that someone does such a thing.
And yes, Pullings is indeed infatuated with Mercy, and yes, he does deserve all the luck in the world, all things considered. Again, thank you very much for reviewing, and I hope that you will continue to read this story despite the fact that updates are very slow and sporadic.