Chapter five: Aunt Charlie
Anya wiped her hands on her skirt, and sighed. Her head was aching, and she couldn't smell the usual musty sent that lingered below deck. Just a cold, she told herself. She tried to smile down at Isaiah, who was now asleep in her bunk; pillow and blankets surrounding him so he didn't roll off.
Anya stumbled upstairs, hoping that maybe a bit of sunlight would do her good. But when going up on deck, she found that it was raining steadily.
"Great," she muttered, sagging against the bulwark, suddenly tired. Her eyes snapped open at a crack of thunder, and she decided to go to the galley.
"Why were you outside?" Jack demanded as soon as she entered the warm and dry galley. She found a fair few of the crew sitting at the large long common table, playing poker.
"I wasn't aware it was raining, "Anya snapped, sitting down on the edge of one of the two long benches.
Jack frowned over at her, noticing a sheen of sweet on her brow, on her laborous breathing.
"Are you alright?" He asked, scooting down the bench, closer to her.
"I'm fine," Anya said in a slow and cool voice.
But she wasn't fine. She was so tired. Her head hurt, her throat and body ached. What was wrong with her? She never got sick...
So tired, was what kept running through her mind. She put her head down on her arms, rested on the table. She closed her eyes.
"Jackie?" Jack asked, giving her a gentle prod. "Jackie?" Jack's poke became more rough, and somewhat frantic.
"Something is wrong with her," Jack said, and Francis jumped up from where he was winning a large hand. He gently picked up the now passed out girl, and followed Jack to her small cabin. After Jack gingerly took the baby and set it in its cradle, they put Anya in her bunk, and piled her with sheets.
"Well now, I'm glad you were awake. Gave that good for nothing brother-in-law of mine a run for his money," Anya's eyes fluttered open at those words. Something was different.
There was no rocking ship beneath her. The musty smell of the hold was gone, and sunlight was touching her eyes. She blinked.
"Isaiah!" Anya cried, trying to jump up and look around for the baby. A hand was placed on her chest and she was forced back down.
"He is asleep in the nursery," A woman was sitting besides the bed in which Anya was currently laying in. She had the appearance of a large bloodhound. She was austere looking, with her silver hair pulled as tight as could be and set into a knot at the top of her head. She was wearing a black simple gown, with a emerald brooch at her rooster like neck. She wore heavy rings on her fingers, and had a large opal bracelet on her left arm.
Anya slowly laid back against the soft pillows, and looked around the room with large eyes. It was plain. With white walls, a desk, and the bed, there was nothing else in it. The large windows opened out onto a balcony, however, making them seem out of place in the ordinary room. The bed itself was a double, with a beautiful stitched quilt, and down pillows.
"You must be Jackie. Jack said nothing except for your name. But...Isaiah looks nothing like him, nor you," Anya cracked a smile. This must be Charlotte. She had the same eyes as Isabel, she mused. And indeed, she sat ramrod straight.
"That would be because he is neither my baby, nor Mr. Fox's." Anya opened her mouth after that, to correct her blunder, but Charlotte held up a fat wrinkled had, and gave a wry smile.
"Well then, who's is he?"
"Miss Isabel's,"
"Oh dear, where is she? I have heard little of my sister since she married that man,"
"She died," Anya said in a small voice, fiddling with the quilt. "Giving birth to Isaiah." Silence filled the room, and Anya looked up to see Charlotte stony faced.
"I told her that man would be the death of her," she whispered.
"Well...he wasn't," Anya shrugged, biting her lip.
"Pardon?" Charlotte demanded.
"Well...the baby isn't Mr. Fox's. I don't know who's it is," Charlotte's mouth opened and closed, till she changed the subject all together.
"So, you got scarlet fever without even knowing it?" Anya's mouth dropped open.
"I thought it was just a cold..." She sputtered. "Oh my God...Isaiah!" She tried to get back out of bed, but Charlotte's strong arms held her down.
"He had a vaccination. Have you heard of those? They are a new thing. They inject the sickness into you, and somehow, it prevents it."
"What...?"
"Yes, it does work. Don't worry. You shan't catch it again. Now, I want you to rest up. You need to be fit as a flea in order to become my new companion. I will pay you of course,"
"Oh no," Anya protest, trying to smile. "I wouldn't want to do that. You are giving me and Isaiah a home," she was going to say more, but the smile Charlotte gave her made the girl stop.
"Don't mention it. I think you didn't exactly know what you were getting into, did you? Saying yes to Isabel, as I'm sure you did. And it's good for my daughter, May, to finally get out from under my impending wing. No, I will pay you, and give you a home. Food and lodgings, clothes, furniture, even books are on me. I have a vast amount of money, and no one to spend it on. Besides, you are my nephew's care-giver. I should think that is enough,"
Anya was stricken as to this woman's kindness. Yes, when you first see her, you think she would be an old mean spinster, but she was nothing of the sort. She was merely a very lonely old woman, who had very little family.
"Thank you, ma'am," Anya finally said, finding no other words.
"Call me Aunt Charlie," Charlotte said, and then left saying that Anya needed her rest, and the one maid could watch after Isaiah for the time being.
For the first time in a long time, Anya was happy. Charlotte was like her own aunt, caring yet stern when it came to her well being. She would sit in the large lofty parlor and play games. Or accompany the old woman into the vast gardens and help weed or point out flowers.
One thing Anya could not do, however, was read. It was just something she never learned. So, Charlotte decided she would teach the girl to read. And she did. They were progressing slowly, and Anya still couldn't read any of Dickens, or Shakespear, but she was getting there. Life was slowly settling in, and Anya began to put out of her mind the small time on the pirate ship with the egocentric captain. She wouldn't be foolish enough to say that she wasn't affected by the time there, but she didn't heartily speak of it. Not even to Charlotte.
On a cool day when there was a slight breeze and a promise of rain later on hung heavt, Anya was in the kitchen, shelling peas. Despite Charlotte's protest, Anya stubbronly said she would do work in exchange for all that they had done for her and Isaiah. She would work in the kitchen, or help the maids clean up the house. Her favorite was working in the gardens though.
"Jackie?" Anya looked up to see the head maid; Jean, walking in with a basket of laundry just off the line.
"Could you possibly run to the market place and get me some gloves? Here is the money, but I need to finish the laundry, and you know I hate to wring out the clothes without gloves," Anya nodded, took the few pounds and after telling Charlotte she would be right back, went out.
Anya hurried down the streets, glancing to and fro; and old habit. She hadn't suspected to be back in Port Royal again, and she was somewhat afraid of someone finding her.
"Excuse me," Anya almost ran head first into a very pretty lady.
"I'm sorry," she said, backing up a step. The lady had golden colored hair, curled in ringlets about her face. Her golden brocade dress shimmered in the patchy sunlight, and her face was curious looking.
"You used to work in my home!" she declared. Anya gulped.
"No, I don't think so..." she sputtered.
"Yes, you did! Jackie, wasn't it? I remember you. You once spilled a glass of water down my front! I daresay my husband found it amusing."
Anya didn't dare to speak.
"Where are you working now?" Anya knew her. Her name was Mrs. Georgina Keith, wife of the governor.
"Uh...Miss Charlotte's," Anya said in a whisper.
"Charlotte? Yes, her." Georgina's face grew cold. "She collects people like a spider would flies. Never letting them go until they are too old to want to leave. Be careful dear, and don't get too settled. I heard she does quite a number of things when she isn't happy,"
With that, Georgina, wife of the governor walked away, leaving Anya shaken. She had no clue why. Certainly it wasn't because of what she had said about Charlotte. Anya had no intentions of leaving, or getting married. She simply wanted a secure home. And she figured that she had found it.
Little did Anya Jacqueline know, that Jack Sparrow was to enter her life again. After being led on a wild goose chase, he was less then happy that he had the supposed Russian heiress right under his nose, and let her get away without checking first. He had been to distracted by her illness to care. He knew scarlett fever was no joke, and he thought she couldn't even begin to think of being the princess, or tzarina as Francis said.
Jack watched as Anya shook her self, and went to one of the small stores, then left back to Charlotte's home. He wouldn't be able to get her quite yet, but he would soon have her in his clutches, and only then would his new ship be his, and his money tightly secure in his pocket. He wanted to wield a bit of her power as well. He would simply have to wait a bit longer.