Chapter Four

Necessary Sins

Ten minutes after Verity watched Bender climb the stairs, the page from the governor's mansion reappeared at her side. He took her hand, pressed a key into her palm, and said, "Room number two, Miss Carlisle."

"Thank you," she told the page, looking down at the key before smiling over at him.

"You're welcome," the page said, giving her a kindly smile. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call on me at the governor's residence. The name is Robert Chandrol."

"Thank you, Mr. Chandrol," Verity said.

He gave her a bow. "Do not mention it. Good evening, Miss Carlisle." Verity watched as he turned and left the tavern. The door didn't swing closed after him; instead, a smug-looking Colin Black walked into the tavern.

As Colin approached, Verity stood and crossed her arms. "Captain," she said coolly.

"Miss Carlisle," Colin said genially. "You should be quite comfortable here. Don't worry. Oxbay will be liberated soon. It wouldn't surprise me if you were home within a week."

"I'm sure we're all glad to hear that," Verity said waspishly, her eyebrows rising. "So, why are you still here?"

"We're putting out to sea tomorrow morning, first thing. I just…" his voice trailed off as he realized that she wasn't happy about the prospect of returning home. He lookd confused and said, "Verity…?"

She looked away and snapped, "What?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. I'm tired is all. I'd like to go to bed. Goodnight and goodbye." She spun and stormed up the stairs. In the distance above him, Colin heard a door slam. All eyes in the tavern turned to him.

"Uh," he said, blushing slightly. "Lover's quarrel," he explained. "Or something." He turned and left the inn.

"Definitely 'or something'," the bartender muttered to himself as he went back to polishing the glass in his hand.

From her room at the inn, Verity watched in the dusky light as Colin walked up the street. He stopped at the corner, glanced back at the inn, then turned and disappeared behind a building. She sighed quietly. "Goodbye for now," she muttered, and pulled the shade.

She opened the door to the hall and walked across the corridor to room nine. She knocked on the door. She put her ear to the door and heard rustling, then a slurred voice called, "Is it Mary? Mary?"

"Mary?" Verity wondered aloud to herself, and then called, "Oh. Oh, yes, it's me. Let me in, quickly!" She pounded the door heavily to punctuate her urgency.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," said Bender from the other side of the door. "Hold your horses." He pulled the door open and Verity rushed past him into the room. He glanced after her. "What's your hurry?"

"I—uh—I need you," Verity stammered awkwardly. She had been trying to sound lusty, but she thought that 'pained' was a better way to describe her tone. She glanced around the room, which was fairly barren. A bed sat in the corner with a canvas bag on top and a wooden chest at its foot. A desk sat against the wall, upon which a bronze lamp sat, unlit. A bedside table held a large jug.

Bender didn't seem to notice. He began to approach her, and she moved over to the desk against the wall. She hadn't been quite sure what she was going to do, but the aim was quite clear to her; she needed a set of men's clothes.

"C'mere, you," Bender said, moving to follow her. She nearly screamed when he grabbed her sides, lifting her brutishly onto the desk. Verity felt his hands on her skirts, searching for the hem. She wanted to shriek, to call for help, but no sound came out of her mouth.

Her arms flailing, Verity tried to push Bender away. As her hands moved, one came into contact with something cold and metallic. She glanced to her left. The lamp! She picked it up and whacked Bender on top of the head with it just as he was about to kiss her shoulder, bared by her flailing.

Bender stared at her for several moments, his mouth hanging open, and then he collapsed on the floor, groaning. Verity, breathing very heavily, slipped off the desk, straightening her dress as she did. That hadn't been her plan, she mused, but it seemed to do the trick. The only problem was that he might be dead.

She knelt, putting her ear very close to his mouth to his ear to see if he was still breathing. Se was relieved when, almost immediately, the drunk began to stir. She gave a sigh of relief and quickly scrambled to unfasten his belt. She had to work fast.

After tugging his boots off, Verity had to lift his legs slightly to get his trousers off. She was able to unbutton the shirt he wore, flip Bender (with much difficulty) onto his back, and pulled the shirt off. She grabbed the canvas sack on the bed, emptied it of the few trinkets he had, and stuffed the clothes inside.

The drunkard had begun to stir. Verity looked around, and her eyes fell on the jug on the bedstead. Verity raised an eyebrow, stood, and walked over to the table. She sniffed at the rim of the jug. It smelled strongly of liquor. "Look," she whispered to Bender, setting the jug on the ground next to him. "A nice jug of—uh—rum. Or ale, or something. Drink up."

After getting to her feet, Verity hurried to the door. She grabbed the final touch she would need (a wide-brimmed straw hat) from the hook by the door. "Just add it to my tab," she called to Bender as she turned and shut the door behind her. She had a strong feeling that Bender would be suffering less from the bump to the head and more from a hangover come morning.

She walked down the stairs to the common room of the tavern, hefting the sack of Bender's clothes. She told the innkeeper, "I'd like to have a nice walk before I run out of daylight. Will you hold onto my key?" The innkeeper agreed and a moment later she was stepping into the main road of the colony.

Verity had no trouble reaching the harbor. She smiled at the guardsmen there, said, "I just want some fresh sea air," and was granted immediate access. She made a beeline for the dock, and dropped to her knees at the shoreline.

Working quickly, Verity was able to get the clothes out of the sack, wash them in saltwater, and wring them out. When she emerged from under the dock, evening had begun to set, and the guardsmen were setting a fire in a stone pit near the door. "Hello miss," one said politely.

"Hello," Verity said, eying them as they lit the fire. "Would you mind if I used your fire here to dry my husband's clothes?" She smiled abashedly, holding them up.

"Not at all, ma'am," said the first redcoat, tugging at his collar.

Verity held the damp shirt up to the fire. "Thank you, sirs," she said politely.

"Can I help, missus?" asked the second redcoat, shouldering his rifle. He reached out a hand for the shirt.

Verity smiled at the man. "Oh, please. You can hold the shirt and I'll hold the pants." She dug into the canvas bag and withdrew the damp pants. She unrolled them, gave them another squeeze to get a few drops of moisture out, and then held them up to the fire.

"Who did you say your husband was?" asked the first redcoat, snatching the shirt away from his partner. He smiled as he shook wrinkles out of the fabric.

Verity pretended to study the hem of the pants she was drying. "I didn't," she said distractedly. "We just arrived. Say, could one of you gentlemen point me to the butcher's shop?" The question was only part distraction; the butcher's shop would figure into her plan.

"Isn't it a bit late to be shopping for meat?" asked the second redcoat suspiciously. It was as if, robbed of the chance to help Verity, he now had the unexplainable urge to investigate her.

"I just want to know where to get there," Verity said defensively. "So I don't have to waste time when I go out for my errands in the morning." She shook the slacks, and turned them over, so the seat was facing the fire.

"Well, it's across the street from the tavern, a few doors down," said the first redcoat, shooting a glare at his partner.

"What?" demanded the man, frowning grumpily.

"You don't have to be so accusatory," replied the first guard. "She's just a young bride trying to make her way. Isn't that right, missus?" He smiled toothily at Verity.

"Err," Verity said, looking slightly confused for a moment before nodding vigorously. "Right!"

"I wasn't being accusa—thingy," said the other guard, sulkingly slightly. "It's just suspicious, isn't it?"

"Oh, give it a rest. She hasn't said anything to give us the idea that she's up to no good!" barked the first guard.

The second redcoat straightened and said, "You're just thinking that 'cause she's pretty! I ought to march over to your house and tell Kate you're looking at other women!" His chest puffed up self-importantly.

"First of all," the first guard said angrily, "the missus here is definitely one woman, not multiple." He paused, and when he spoke again, there was a twinge of fear in his voice. "And I'm not looking at her! I'm not, am I, missus?" He glanced at her, and then remembered what he was doing and looked back at his partner.

"Gentlemen," said Verity, snatching Bender's shirt away from the guard. "I don't mean to cause trouble, so I'll just be going home." She turned and, giving a dignified sniff, walked back to the gated entrance into town. Walking as quickly as she could to the butcher's shop, she couldn't help but realize that she was running out of daylight.

When she arrived, there was a woman sweeping the porch with a willow broom. She looked up as Verity approached. "Hello there. Can I help you?"

"Well, I hope so," Verity said hesitantly. She smoothed her skirt and hoisted her sack higher on her shoulder. "I need some hair. I would prefer dark hair; perhaps wool?"

"Wool?" asked the woman, leaning on her broom thoughtfully. "My husband generally sends it to the clothier, but I'll see if he has any."

"I don't need much," Verity said quickly. "All I really need is a few little strands."

"What's it for?" asked the woman, regarding Verity with a measure of suspicion.

Verity smiled nervously. "An old family tradition for weddings," she lied.

"Oh, congratulations!" the woman cried, throwing the door to the shop open. "Come inside, dear, and let me have a look around."

Verity thanked her and followed her into the butcher shop. The shop was neat and clean and smelled vaguely salty. There were several dried slabs of meat hanging from hooks in the ceiling.

The butcher's wife walked over behind the counter. "Hmm. Now, where would he put it?" She began pulling drawers open. "I'm sorry, my husband can be quite disorganized sometimes."

"That's quite all right," Verity said.

"Ah. Here we are. I found a bit." The butcher's wife straightened from her search, holding a palm full of dark wool. "There you are," she said, handing it over to Verity.

Verity smiled and pocketed the wool. "Can I give you a coin or two for it?" she asked upon discovering a few coins in the pocket.

"No, no," said the older woman, shaking her head happily. "It's my pleasure. Good luck with the wedding."

"I do hope you'll be able to come," Verity said. "I have the feeling you and I may become good friends, after you helped me out of this problem and all."

"How lovely," said the woman.

Verity bade her goodnight and left the shop, crossing the street to the tavern. The attendant smiled as she entered. "Nice walk?" he asked idly, polishing a silver knife.

"Yes, thank you. The colony is lovely," she said with a smile. She was about to head up the stairs when she turned and said, "What time do you reckon it is?"

"Maybe nine," said the attendant indifferently.

"Could you wake me up before sunrise?"

"I sure can. I'm up about then with the roosters." He smiled and leaned on the bar. "Breakfast comes with the room. I can make some eggs, a biscuit or two and some bacon. Maybe even a pineapple or banana. What would you like?"

"Could I have the biscuits, and some fruit?"

"Jam or honey?" said the attendant.

"Honey, please," Verity said.

"All right." The attendant made a note on a piece of paper by the bar.

"Thank you. Good night." She turned and walked up the stairs. Along the corridor, she paused outside room number nine, only to carry on again when she heard the steady snoring of a man that was dead to the world. Five minutes later, Verity was dozing lightly on the bed in her room.