(Author's Notes – Thank you, thank you, thank you to my lovely reviewers, who deserve another tot of virtual rum! Don't get tipsy, though.
Here I am again – this chapter, I regret, is shorter than the others, but I felt it was better to cut it off there than continue. It's another semi-dramatic ending, but the next chapter should be up … very soon.
Chapter 7: In which Laura finds herself in a very sticky situation. Warning - some situations and dialogue are inspired by DMC.)
Laura, being a proper lady in most senses of the word, knew nothing of self defense and, unlike Belle St. Croix who was perfectly perfect in every way, could not be expected to fight off an attacker while in such a weak position. Thus she had to comply with her kidnapper, coming slowly, careful of the threatening blade, to her feet, and being prodded towards the window, made her way there.
"Open it, luv."
Laura's trembling hands fumbled with the drapes and then the clasp, deathly afraid of who this man was and what he would do to her. After much delay she managed to open the window, to her kidnapper's delight. She felt the blade move from her neck, but it was only a moment's reprieve, for the hilt of the blade came crashing down on her skull, rendering her mercifully unconscious.
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It would have been too clichéd to say Laura woke up swinging in a hammock, tended to by a grim pirate. It would additionally mean than a plan actually worked straight through from soup to nuts for a certain captain, which had never and would never happen in his rather checkered life. Bearing this in mind, Laura came to, with a headache that could have matched that accompanying the worst hangover said kidnapping pirate captain had ever had, in a rickety dinghy, lying uncomfortably in the bottom and hidden from sight under a rotting blanket painted a rainbow from the various mildews and molds.
Being in such a state, of course, she could articulate nothing, and moaned indistinctly. For her pains she was silenced by a swift nudge in the ribs from someone's booted toe. Immediately following this, the boat shuddered and resonated as a very, very loud argument took place.
"No one touches the prisoner, savvy?"
"Captain, you was the one what knocked her out!"
Laura came, after regaining most of her right mind and memory of recent events (For Laura, unlike Belle St. Croix, did not lose her entire memory and sense of being whenever hit over the head and passed out for an hour or so), to the conclusion the person who now defended her was the man who had abducted her in the first place.
"I took necessary action against the lady."
"Or what, Jack? She would 'a crushed ye with her dress?"
"She would 'a screamed, and therefore action was necessary. For I can't get out if the young lady screams, which case we have no captive, seeing as if she screamed she would 'a got help and not been captured and I, in fact, would have been the one what was a captive. And what's the point of ransom if you don't have a captive what to bargain with, aye?"
"Oh, so it's paid release this time."
"I like to think of it as relieving someone of dreadful high society company. And their gold."
"Well, as long as it gets us somethin' what's heavy and shiny, I say aye!"
"Already do, mate. The lady sure wears a bit o' shine."
"How shiny?"
"Very shiny!"
"Come on, Jack, what'd the girl have?"
"Enough to make me considering jus' leavin' her, minus 'er jewels, of course."
"That is shiny."
"Right you are, Mr. Gibbs!"
Surreptitiously, Laura reached for the clasp of her necklace, only to find not only her neck bare, but her left wrist and hand substantially lighter. Someone's boot nudged her again, this time harder.
"I told ye, Pintel, no one touches the prisoner!"
"Beggin' your pardon, Captain, but the wench is awake."
That was the first time in Laura's life that she had been called anything less than a model of propriety and virtue. Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't be the last, especially with her life having now been turned on its head.
The blanket whipped off her head, and she found herself face to face with a very, very oddly dressed and smelly man.
"So she is. 'Ey, Missy, what be your name?"
"Give me my possessions back, please, Captain-"
"Sparrow, luv," the man smirked, "And I don't think so. Perhaps after your room and board's been paid for."
"Please, Captain Sparrow! That ring means … a lot."
"What's your name, Missy?"
"Laura. Laura Bell."
"And whose ring is this, JN? Certainly not yours. Bit of a thief, are you?"
"Yes, it's not mine. No, I didn't steal it. It was a gift from someone."
"Someone named JN? Now who do we know by the initials of JN?"
"You don't know her. My mother – Judith North was her maiden name, and as I am her eldest, she passed the ring to me on my birth."
Laura hoped desperately that they could not see the lie in her eyes – part of it was true enough, her mother's name had been Judith North, before she became Judith Bell, but it was a gift from quite a different JN …
"And who is your father?"
"Captain Laurence Bell, RN. He's disappeared into the South Pacific, neither seen nor heard from for six years. So, Captain Sparrow, I can safely say my father is dead."
"If you hope to gain some sympathy with a sob story, luv, you've come to the wrong shop."
Laura shook her head.
"It's not a sob story, as you put it, Captain. He died at sea; it's what he would have wanted. And if his death came sooner than later, well, that's just the way of the world. He was a good man, and a good father, and I am sorry that the end came when it came, but," she shrugged, "One gets used to life."
"Pragmatic view, Missy."
"I've had a good life. What have I to complain about?"
Actually, she did have quite a bit of late, the annoyance in question being a pretty, brainless chit by the name of Belle St. Croix.
"This," Sparrow smirked, gesturing around himself towards a decidedly bucaneer crew.
"It's not so bad," she said stoically, "I would have had to leave Port Royal anyway."
A mutter went up around the dinghy.
"Well, Miss Bell, it seems you are now my prisoner. You shall be released when your family or other interested party provides us with your ransom."
"And what are you asking?"
"Suitable payment. I won't accept a farthing under ten thousand pounds, but if you wish to pay more, by all means, luv."
"Ten thousand, Captain Sparrow?"
"Every last coin gold. We pirates like a bit of shine every now and again."
Laura did the calculations in her head. Her portion of the interest from her father's investments brought in five hundred a year, the plantations another five hundred. Not good. Laura knew she had to contribute to the upkeep of the Bell household, and that would take at least half of that, maybe a bit more. The Bells didn't take charity, and Laura was no exception. It was her burden to pay for her release – the Blush Pearl could be sold to make up differences, but even that would not cover her ransom. She had no other valuables – she dressed plainly and possessed no jewelry of value. There was only one other thing …
No, she couldn't have her mother give that.
It was the only way. She had to, or be stuck with pirates.
Laura realized the price of her freedom was her dowry.
(Author's Notes – Hi, me again! Just clarifying a couple things: Yes, Pintel and Ragetti are rowing the dinghy. There is no justification for them being there, just they are – they somehow escaped the noose? I don't know, these guys are just funny, hopefully they'll have a bigger part later. I hope I didn't overdo it with the "shiny" bit, but I was having fun! Laura refers to the Blush Pearl; it's part of her inheritance – a large, pink-toned pearl. Lastly, just in case, a woman's dowry is the money, property, etc that goes with a woman when she marries – sort of an inducement to marry a woman since its easy money for the groom. Laura doesn't want to lose it because she thinks it's her last chance to marry respectably, else she faces serious repercussions for being with child out of wedlock ... )
