Usual disclaimers – pah!
Many thanks to all those who have taken the trouble to review – feedback is always welcomed, as is constructive critisism.
Chapter Three
"Celia! Wake up!"
Celia's eyes shot open and she looked around in panic, not knowing where she was for a few moments until her eyes focused and she found Aggie hovering over her, an excited grin on her face. "What?" she mumbled, rubbing her bleary eyes. If it were not for the fact that she could see sunlight streaming through the threadbare curtains hanging at the window, she would have sworn she had only just settled off to sleep.
"Mister Penhallick will see yer this morning," Aggie announced, jumping up and down with glee.
"And that is good?" Celia wondered, having second thoughts about wanting to work for a man who proclaimed himself a king, and of pirates to boot.
"Of course it's bloody good!" came Giselle's voice from somewhere within the room. "He don't see just anybody."
"Jargo said that he was impressed with th'fact that yer were a nun, an' that he wanted ter see yer personally."
"Who is this Jargo?" Celia enquired as she sat up in the rickety bed of Aggie's, which she had slept in whilst the two women were working.
"Mister Penhallick's right-hand man," Aggie told her. "I'm his favourite girl," she beamed, twirling around, laughing.
"So move," Giselle urged. "It don't do ter keep Mister Penhallick waitin'."
"Now?"
"Yes, now," the blonde whore sighed. "So get yerself dressed an' decent, then we'll take yer up to th'mansion."
Celia scrambled from the bed, reaching for the blue cotton dress that Aggie had lent her, and pulled it on over her undershift which she had slept in. She hastily tied the laces at the front of the dress and ran her fingers through her short, matted hair, wincing as she encountered knot after knot.
"I don't suppose you have a comb that I could borrow?" she asked.
"Yer look fine," Aggie lied. "Come on, he's a busy man."
Celia found herself bundled out of the house and down the narrow street, turning left into another, wider street and carrying on alongside a stream for a time before turning right and heading up the hill, towards a large house, which dominated it. "He lives there?" she gulped, wishing more than ever that she looked presentable, or at least had a chance to clean and comb her hair and perhaps find some shoes to wear, but at least the loaned dress was long enough to cover her bare feet. "What's it like inside?"
"Dunno, never been in - but from I hear, it's a palace!" Aggie declared. "Yer'll be able ter tell us all about it."
"If he employs me," Celia reminded her.
"Course he will. He likes pretty girls workin' fer him."
"Ah, but Syndony might object," Giselle put in with a knowing wink.
"Syndony?" Celia looked from Giselle to Aggie, feeling even more uneasy.
"Mister Penhallick's woman. She runs a brothel th'other side of town. Too posh fer th'likes of us," Aggie shrugged.
"A b-brothel" Celia gaped, her eyes agog. "L-look… I'm not sure this is a good idea." She stopped and went to turn but found two pairs of hands stopping her.
"It's this or bar work," Giselle reminded her. "Unless yer virtue's up fer sale yet?"
"No!" Celia stated firmly. "Never."
"Well, in yer go then," Aggie chuckled, giving her a none too gentle shove through the wrought iron gates. "Th'servant's entrance is around that way," she told her, pointing to the side of the house.
"You're not coming with me?" Celia worried, looking at her friends. "I-I can't go on my own…"
"Course yer can, now go!"
Celia took a deep breath and turned back to face the house, then walked resolutely along the path that led around the back of the mansion. She stopped by what she hoped was the servants entrance and knocked timidly on the door, jumping in surprise as it opened almost immediately.
"Miss Hammond?" a thin, reedy man enquired, looking her up and down with something akin to distaste. "Follow me."
Celia stepped inside, biting her lip in an attempt to steady her nerves but failed miserably and she felt herself start to shake with fear. She was lead up a short flight of stairs and along a narrow passageway which took them to a square hallway, dominated by a large chandelier. The man stopped by an oak panelled door and rapped sharply, entering when beckoned.
"Miss Hammond, Sir," he announced, moving so that Celia could enter the room.
"Thank you, Alec. Some refreshments for Miss Hammond?"
"I shall see to it, Sir." Alec nodded curtly and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Hammond," Ethan Penhallick smiled. "Please, take a seat."
Celia bristled at his mock humility but wisely said nothing. She moved carefully to the chair which he had indicated, glancing at him, taking in his powerful build, his jet black hair, tied in a sailor's plait and his fine, well made clothes. Everything about him screamed wealth but nothing indictated taste, at least not to Celia's mind.
"I gather you require work?" he said, sitting opposite her. "Do you have experience in service?"
"Not the kind of service you mean, no," she replied, her instant dislike of the man giving her a smidgen of courage. "I can clean well enough, surely that is all that is required of me?"
"Indeed it is," he grinned. From what Jargo Teague had told him, he had been expected a timid little mouse. The woman before him showed no signs of being afraid, even though experience told him that she was. "But I would expect you to be a little more presentable than you are at present."
Celia glowered but was unable to answer as Alec returned with a tray containing a teapot and two china cups and saucers, plus a plate full of small cakes. She waited patiently as the butler poured the tea and offered her a cake, which she refused, and she sipped her tea as he left her and the so-called pirate king alone once more.
"Mister Penhallick," she retorted, her voice icy. "A few days ago I was shipwrecked. Not only did I lose a good friend, I lost all of my belongings and what paltry amount of money I had. I was brought here yesterday and dumped by my rescuer and if it had not been for the kindness of Aggie and Giselle, I dread to think what state I would be in now. So I apologise if my appearance repels you." She got to her feet, slamming the cup and saucer back on the tray and made for the door.
"Miss Hammond! It's me who should be apologising," Ethan Penhallick smiled ruefully. "I wasn't fully aware of your unfortunate circumstances. Please, sit back down."
"Is there any point?" she sniped, remaining where she was by the door.
"Well you'll need to know what work is expected of you, and what hours you will be required to work…"
"You mean, you're offering me the job?" she gasped. "After what I said…?"
"Maybe partly because of what you said," he chuckled. "I do like a woman with a bit of spirit. But show your spirit whilst you're working here, and I'll have your guts for garters, understood?"
"Yes, Mister Penhallick," Celia deferred, moving back to the chair. "Thank you."
"In fact, it might be a good idea if I allow you an advance on your wages. I can't have a servant of mine looking worse than the whores on the streets, can I?"
"Indeed not, Sir," Celia smiled, although the smile did not reach her eyes. "When would you like me to start?"
"Tomorrow," he informed her. "I expect you here at six, all right?"
"Fine, Sir," she shrugged. Having spent the last three years of her life waking at half past five for Matins, she knew she would have no problem at starting work that early.
"Right, well here's two shillings in advance and see my housekeeper about your uniform." Ethan Penhallick handed her the coins, then rang a handbell and waited a few moments for the bulter to re-appear. "Alec. Take Celia to Mistress Carson, would you and then show her out. See you tomorrow, Celia."
"Yes, goodbye, Mister Penhallick, and thank you again."
…
Two months later
(November)
Celia looked around with exasperation at the motley gathering in the dilapidated church on the edge of town. In the absence of a priest, she had taken it upon herself to hold a service of sorts, twice on a Sunday in an attempt to convert the heathen pirates and whores of the town, but she rarely got more than a handful of people and they mostly consisted of Aggie and a couple of other girls with whom she had become friendly. But today she had a few more men than was usual - largely, she suspected, because they had run out of money for a room in one of the taverns and it was pouring down with rain outside and they sought shelter.
"Please," she called, clapping her hands together to try and quieten the noise down. "If we could all hold hands in prayer…"
"I'll give yer somethin' ter hold, darlin'!" one of the pirates laughed, reaching for the laces of his breeches.
"She ain't got lookin' glasses," Scarlett taunted. "So 'ow d'yer expect her ter see anythin'?"
"I didn't hear yer complain th'other night, round th'back of th'Bride," the pirate snarled. "Couldn't have enough of it."
"Couldn't have enough of it?" she mocked. "I was bored out me skull – couldn't wait fer ya ter finish humpin' me so I could take yer coin."
"Yer little bitch!" the man roared, launching himself towards her.
"Please!" Celia begged. "Not in church!" She yelped and leapt backwards as the other men joined in the brawl, sending the alter table flying.
"Come on," Aggie urged, grabbing Celia by the arm and dragging her to the back door of the church.
"But…"
"No buts. Once they start fightin' they don't care who's in th'way, an' men usually want a good screw after a good fight."
"Screw?" Celia wondered, gasping as they stepped outside and got soaked through immediately.
"Fuck, shag, screw – whatever yer want ter call it," Aggie explained."
"Oh!" Celia found herself blushing in spite of the rather coarse education she had received since arriving in Tortuga. She drew the line at remaining in the house when Aggie and Giselle brought men back with them and had spent many an hour wandering a small beach at the end of the docks, careful not to bring attention to herself – the last thing she wanted or needed was trouble.
"Will yer stop daydreamin' an' hurry up?" Aggie complained, pulling her arm, desperate to get out of the pounding rain.
"What's the point of rushing? We're already soaking wet," Celia reasoned. "Running home won't ensure us being any drier."
"Got a bleedin' answer fer everythin', you!" Aggie complained without malice.
"Anyway, I have to go to the mansion later, so I might as well head there now and dry out by cook's fire. She won't mind."
"Huh! S'all right fer some. See yer later then." Aggie hared off down the hill, determined to reach home as quickly as possible, while Celia went in the opposite direction, towards the large mansion sitting on top of the hill, overlooking the town and harbour of Tortuga.
"Goodness, Sarah," Celia gasped as she walked into the kitchen. "You can barely see in front of your eyes, it's coming down that hard."
"Gawd, look at you!" the cook exclaimed. "Sit yerself by th'fire and dry out. Th'master won't be very pleased if yer drip water all over his silk rugs. Come all th'way from China, they do!"
"Yes, cook," Celia replied automatically, having heard the same thing countless times since starting work for Ethan Penhallick.
"Oh gawd," Sarah sighed heavily as a servants bell rang out. "Where's that bloody Judith? Would yer see to that for me, love?"
"But I'm wet and I haven't changed into my uniform yet!" Celia protested. "What about the silk rugs?"
"Quick, or th'master'll be displeased. Just don't step on them, eh?"
Celia muttered under her breath but hastened out of the warm kitchen and up the stairs, glancing at which bell was ringing but not being surprised to find it was the master bedroom. Syndony Chester rarely surfaced before mid-day, but when she did she liked the whole house scurrying around after her. Celia hurried along the corridor towards the hall, intent on reaching her destination before Miss Chester threw one of her infamous tantrums.
"Watch yerself, missy!" growled a voice as she cannoned into someone, and Celia found herself staring into dark brown eyes, curiously rimmed with black.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her face reddening as she tried in vain to break eye contact with the man. "Excuse me…"
"S'all right, Cee. I've got it," came Judith's voice from upstairs.
"Cee?" the man drawled. "Strange name, that." His eyes shifted from her face to where her wet blouse clung to her body, outlining every curve. His lips curled into a smirk as he caught her eyes once more.
"C-Celia," she gulped, pulling her blouse so it did not stick to her, finally dragging her gaze from his eyes and taking in his strange, braided hair and curious clothes.
"Ah, pretty name," he complimented. "Ter go with a pretty face…"
"Leave my staff alone, you incorrigible rouge," Ethan Penhallick retorted with a grin as he crossed the hall. "And go and change, girl. What are you doing wandering around in that state?"
"Sorry, Sir," Celia apologised, backing away towards the corridor before turning tail and hurrying off, her cheeks still burning with mortification.
"Surprised Syn lets yer have a maid that attractive."
"She's pure as th'driven snow, Jack," Ethan laughed. "Was a nun before she came out here."
"A nun? Well, well, well..."
"Yer'd best join the queue. There's a long line of men wantin' ter pick her cherry."
"You included?"
"Aye, but don't tell Syndony that!" Penhallick laughed. "Now Captain Sparrow, I believe we have some business to conduct."
"Indeed we do," Jack agreed, following his host into the study, wondering if he would have a chance to see the maid again before he left.
…
"Are you all right, Celia?" Sarah, the cook, enquired as the young girl careered into the kitchen looking flushed and flustered.
"F-fine," she gulped. "I'll go and change…" Celia hurried to a small room where the uniforms were kept and peeled her still wringing wet clothes off, dumping them in a heap on the floor, shaking her head to try and rid herself of the image of the man's eyes boring into her with little success. 'Stop being silly,' she chided, cross with herself for allowing him to embarrass her. 'He's probably a pirate.' Celia dried her short hair as best she could with a rag and picked up her wet clothes, carrying them to the fireplace in the kitchen and draping them over a chair to dry.
"Take this tray to Mister Penhallick, there's a love," Sarah said as the younger woman re-appeared.
"Oh… of course." Celia managed to force a smile as she picked up the tea tray and carried it to the study, hoping she would not spill anything. 'Why would you?' she thought, cross that she was allowing whoever the man was, to affect her so. 'You haven't spilled anything yet.' She balanced the tray carefully and knocked on the door, taking a deep breath before entering the room.
"Ah, Celia," Ethan Penhallick smiled. "Put it on the side table."
"Of course," she deferred, licking her dry lips with an equally dry tongue. She felt the other man's eyes following her as she moved across the room and set the silver tray down. "Shall I pour?" she asked, hoping her employer would say no.
"Yes, please," came the reply she did not want to hear, and Celia busied herself pouring tea into two china cups. 'Don't spill it,' she worried as she picked up the tray and carried it first to Penhallick and then his guest who was watching her with merriment dancing in his eyes.
"Thank you, Celia," he smiled, bowing his head.
"I-it's a pleasure, Sir," she managed to reply, wishing he would hurry up and take some of the biscuits that were on offer.
"I understand you're a religious lass?" he enquired, finally taking a plate and two biscuits, his eyes never leaving her face. "Not much call fer religion in Tortuga."
"No…"
"Captain Jack Sparrow," he grinned, showing off at least two gold teeth that Celia could see.
"N-no, Captain Sparrow," she replied. "Excuse me…"
"Of course, luv. Can't keep you from your duties, eh?"
"Thank you," Celia bobbed, nodding at Penhallick before hastening from the room, her heart pounding harder than it had been earlier.
"That bleedin' cow has got one on her this morning," Judith hissed as Celia met up with her in the hallway. "Threw th'bloody hairbrush at me!"
"Shhh!" Celia warned. "Someone will hear you one day."
"I hope they do – give me an excuse ter say it to her pretty painted face!" Judith Pinkney looked at her friend and colleague curiously. "You all right?"
"Fine!" Celia replied, a little too breezily. "Everything's fine."
"Good," Judith replied, unconvinced. "Come on, or cook will send out a search party fer us." The two women linked arms and made their way to the kitchen, where they helped Sarah prepare dinner, Celia being grateful that she at least did not have to serve it.
…
Happy now? ;)
