The Trouble with Women
Chapter 8
Of Pistols and Butter Knives
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"It's not going to bite you, love," Jack broke the silence in the room as Vivien stared at the bread in her hand, inspecting it thoroughly as thought waiting for it to sprout fangs and bite her hand off.
A small frown appeared on her face, and her green eyes darted up to meet Jack's grinning face. She eyed him, not quite knowing what to think of the man. Should she be afraid? Would he pull a sword out on her at any second? Should she be wary? He seemed more than a little tipsy. Or should she be somewhat relieved? He didn't seem at all the like the kind of man Belfast was. He wasn't large, threatening—well he looked slightly threatening, but not nearly as much so as Belfast…
With renewed ferocity, Vivien chomped down on the piece of baguette with a vigour she didn't know she had. She supposed it was some sort of act, telling the pirate before her, "ooh, look at me you beau brute diaboliquement! Don't think I'm afraid of you! You look too drunk to walk properly, let alone skewer someone with your sword!"
Of course, she wouldn't dare say it aloud. That would most definitely cause unending humiliation and a very angry pirate captain. Something she was trying rather hard to avoid.
Jack just grinned saucily at her, his few golden teeth catching in the candlelight and glittering, his eyes laughing at her as though he had somehow read her mind.
That thought seemed to particularly strike her, and she found herself wondering if maybe he could read minds. If so, she mused to herself, mon Dieu, strike me down now with a thunderbolt, s'il vous plaît, so I won't have to endure the humiliation!
But as no immediate strike of lightning burst through the cabin roof and fried her to a nice little crisp, Vivien took it as a good omen and ripped another chunk of baguette off with her teeth. She supposed she resembled some wild animal, like a wolf from the Americas—eyes feral and teeth bared, ripping ravenously at its newest kill…
And then, all at once, her mouth was watering with the taste of the bread, spurred on by the smell of the food and she stomach felt as though it would cave in on itself if she didn't have more…and so she did.
The Frenchwoman indulged herself in the fineries of pirate food, taking a slice of Rissoles—salted and seasoned pork—there, and how it seemed tomelt on her tongue! And a bite of that delectable fruit, pears and bananas ripe with flavour! A taste of that wonderful little dish over there—it reminded her of capon pie, how wonderfully Édouard would make it! But she couldn't forget that slice of lemon. She found them strangely tasty with their pungent, sour flavour that felt like sweet sugar on her tongue. Oh, she was in heaven, for delicious food was heaven…
Jack watched curiously as the woman before him dug into the feast much like a starved street urchin gone days without a crust of stale bread or drop of wine. And how she guzzled that wine, something he found the French particularly adequate at, her mauve lips parting from the mug with a deep red tinge. He couldn't help but be entranced by the sight, even if she did have atrocious manners. Elizabeth would be horrified, he thought to himself with a lazy sort of smile.
His mind must have wandered, because the next moment he looked up she had stopped. Quite literally frozen. He lounged in his chair a moment, confused, before raising a bejewelled finger and opening his mouth to wonder out loud just why she had halted such an amusing display of table etiquette.
But then, he was interrupted, something he didn't particularly enjoy, for being a captain meant everyone listened when you spoke, right?
"Why don't you eat, pirate?" she asked, more demanded, her face not showing meekness but rather fear.
He was about to wonder why aloud, but he was cut off once more.
"It's poisoned, isn't it?" she all but shrieked, her slender fingers—which had been grabbing and snatching all the food they could find only moments before—were hovering over her plate uncertainly.
Jack had the sudden urge to laugh, whether it was from his relative drunkenness or plain good humour, he did so.
Vivien managed to look somewhat outraged as his light chuckled turned to a deep laugh. Was this man, this pirate, laughing at her situation even as the poison in her stomach soaked into her veins and crept toward her vital organs, the very breath in her lungs liable to stop at any moment?
Luckily, Jack caught Vivien's look of incomprehensible fear, disgust and confusion and decided to enlighten her before she passed out from shock.
"No worries, darling! It's not poisoned, I assure you," he slurred in a mocking tone, a wicked grin curling on his lips making it quite clear he was very amused.
"…It's not?" Vivien questioned hesitantly, and Jack had to marvel somewhat at her near flawless English, as she had hardly even an accent as she spoke—mimicking the stuffy, puffed up ladies of the English court.
"Nay," he continued, leaning forward and smirking devilishly at her. "Au contraire¸ on account of me and me mates nicked it all from your lovely little kitchen back on the island. What you see before you is all your own."
"You stole from me?" Vivien demanded, forgetting her fear for a moment to sound outraged.
He leaned back into his chair, still smirking. "Aye, and we also managed to pinch a lovely French lady from it all, too," he reminded jovially, pleased with himself.
Scowling, she fixed him with a stare that oozed hatred. Just because she was a paranoid git didn't mean she couldn't have a temper! "Thief!" she accused him.
Jack cocked his head at her. "Pirate," he corrected.
"Scoundrel," she glared.
"Villain," he smiled charmingly.
"Knave!"
"A devil'll do just fine, love, if ye don't mind," he said. "But I much prefer Captain Sparrow to your lovely little compliments."
"You disgusting, vile man!" Vivien retorted angrily, refusing to acknowledge the title of the man who had kidnapped her and locked her in a room aboard his ship for a day with nothing to do but stare at the walls and get sick from the constant rolling of the waves.
Jack's smile dropped somewhat, his eyes darkening. "Aye, and the Captain of this ship, so I'll expect you to address me so."
Vivien felt her resolve crumble somewhat as his face darkened, but she steeled herself bravely. This man needed her cooperation to find her father's treasure. He wouldn't dare harm her.
"I won't," she declared, feeling quite high and mighty now she had convinced herself she was needed.
Jack seemed to lose all his former humour. "You will," he replied, voice lowering and losing the cheery, drunken gait, "As well as everyone else aboard my ship, or you'll be tossed to the sharks and they can deal with ye, agreed?"
The young Frenchwoman felt her stomach flip at the mention of sharks. Not only could she not swim, despite many attempts by Amaury, sharks were possibly the most frightening thing alive—right after Belfast and much more so than Jack Sparrow. Although he was certainly going up on her list of gens effrayants.
"Agreed!" she all but squeaked, having to take a moment to even find her voice.
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, good humour restored, and she couldn't help being curious about his mood swings. They were much like a woman's before her time of the month, which she found quite amusing. She would have laughed aloud if she wasn't so frightened of the man.
The sigh of Jack's dark eyes upon her made those thoughts vanish completely, the image of him reading minds haunting her. He grinned at her, his golden teeth revealing themselves proudly.
"Now that we have that all settled and done, why don't we eat then, eh?" he declared, arching and eyebrow at her with his arms spread wide.
Vivien merely blinked and waited, still not sure about the food before her. The urge to know is she was going to simply drop dead at any moment was still with her, so she simply resolved to wait and watch him take the first bite.
Understanding, Jack a positively lazy grin, his dark eyes twinkling madly, before plucking a grape from one of the platters and popping it into his mouth. For a moment, he seemed to be in complete bliss, and then he gave her an expectant look.
Still, Vivien did not make a move to eat the food before her. It would have been quite simple for Jack to pluck out the unspoiled portions if he had added the drug himself, after all. And powdered poison was almost too easy to conceal within food these days.
Running his tongue languidly across his front teeth, Jack rolled his eyes at the woman before him. "You realize if I intended to poison you, you would have already eaten enough to kill and your fate would be sealed. What I don't understand is the problem with eating more if you were already doomed, hence my confusion at your hesitation," he drawled on, fingers twiddling and hands waving about to punctuate ever point during his speech.
Vivien gave him a blank look, take the time to sort out the man's words before putting together an explanation. When she had it all down, she fixed him with a flat look and declared plainly, "If I ate more I would be dead quicker."
Jack took a moment to ponder her answer, brow furrowed and lips pursed, eyes narrowed and shifting slightly. He had yet to findout what went on inside this woman's head, and so far she remained somewhat of a mystery to him. But Jack Sparrow had always taken a liking to mysteries—as well as treasure. This one, it seemed, was wrapped up into one nice little package right before him just waiting to be opened.
He finally emerged from his musings to see the Frenchwoman perched on the edge of her chair, same as usual, tense and frowning. His grin was almost instantly restored.
"Well then, if you really don't intend to have any more it's safe to say his is all for me, eh?" he quipped lightly and promptly dug in, loading his plate full of the wonderful food and producing a bottle of rum from seemingly nowhere.
Vivien watched, stiff, as the pirate snatched one of everything—teacakes, vegetable quiches, chicken, pork, fruit and vegetables (he seemed rather partial to the oranges rather than the lemons). He poured himself a glass of wine and gulped it down much like water before clamping his teeth down on the cork of his rim bottle, ripping it free and spitting it off to the side where it was lost to darkness. He then proceeded to take a large swig from the bottle, draining it almost to the bottom.
With a pensive frown, Vivien watched and wondered if all her fears were just foolishness and she was being the paranoid old hag again. The pirate seemed to have insatiable appetite, and she would have bee completely disgusted with his manners at any other time is she hadn't have been so hungry herself. Despite her display of starving madwoman antics before, she hadn't eaten enough to fill her stomach or drank enough wine to quench her thirst. Although she would have much preferred the odd fruit drinks—cherry and raspberry juice—Édouard made for her back home. They were more welcome that the taste of wine. Belfast was the one who made her drink the stuff, and the deep red colour of it reminded her of him and his dark eyes that seemed to glow red when he was angry.
But still she felt as though she was starving, and before she knew what she was doing, her hand have moved of it's own accord and snatched up an orange, which she peeled greedily and sank her teeth into with desperate fervour. Oh, and how it tasted on her tongue!
After a day of nothing but horrible stew and stale break this was heaven! Except for the filthy pirate across from her. She could very well do without him for a while. Or a year. Or the rest of her life for all she cared.
Jack smirked to himself and popped the rest of a quiche into his mouth as he once again watched the Frenchwoman fill her plate to the very edges with food. That was what the French loved. Their wine and their food—and what positively delicious food it was.
Plucking a green apple from one of the plates that sat before him, he scrutinizes it carefully before biting almost viciously into it, taking such a large chunk out he almost ended up choking himself. Luckily, as his eyes went wide and his stifled a cough, Vivien was occupied by one of those delicious little pastries and unable to see the strangled look of panic that spread across his face. That, and the unnecessarily large swig taken from the rum bottle at his side. Glaring at the apple a moment, he merely tossed it behind him and cleared his throat the mask the sound of it smacking something hard in the depths of his cabin.
Vivien spared him the smallest of glances, taking a huge bite from a chicken leg decked with fenne and layered with spices. She took brief moment to gloat upon the fact she was eating the terrifying bird. Ah, yet another reason Jack Sparrow made her uneasy. His very name was related to those horrible little devils that had attacked her one morning on her seventh birthday as she attempted to catch a peak at their nest. L'incident de moineau.
Jack arched his eyebrows pensively at the woman and shifted in his seat. Really, if he had simply wanted to have dinner he would have joined his men or had it alone, not insisted on wasting his time with a curious woman who seemed to think everyone was out to harm her.
He cleared his throat again, this time following the noise up with words, a lazy hand holding his bottle of rum half-poised to his lips. "Now that we're all settled in…what about that treasure?" he slurred, with his dark eyes narrowing at the prospect of gold. He loved it almost as much as his rum!
Instantly, Vivien had let the half-eaten chicken leg drop, a familiar horror snatching up her insides in a tight grip and squeezing. Her mind was instantly alert for traps or lies, and she regarded the pirate warily, her eyes trailing hesitantly up to Jack's face where those dark eyes were focused and narrowed at her. And only her. A shiver ran up her spine, not one of pleasure, certainly not, but one of fear. And all over again, the pirate before her was the most terrifying person she ever set eye on, shoving Belfast from her mind with that charming, sly grin. En garde, Vivien, and be calm, she reasoned with herself, realizing she was all alone now with no one on her side. No Florette, no Édouard, and certainly no Amaury.
"What of it," she asked, wary of the subject and quite aware with the fact she had lied to him weighing heavy on her shoulders. Maybe it would be the death of her.
Jack rolled his eyes, looking nonchalant. "Well," he started, dragging the word out. "I want to know where it is, of course!" Was his declaration, bottle of rum waving, the liquid sloshing, before he took another gulp and let it warm his insides.
Vivien was silent for a moment. What could happen if she told him where it was? Of course, she didn't know where it was, but he had no idea about that! She could lie quite easily, lead him on a fake trail, but what would happen when he found she was false? Death? Would he abandon her on some island with the sharks surrounding her? Or leave her to Belfield to catch up?
Her thoughts spawned more lies, and she put on a brave face as she answered. "And you think I'm going to tell you, just like that?" she asked coolly, but her legs were trembling even as she sat. "After you've kidnapped me and forced me aboard your ship?"
Sensing her unease like a shark does blood, Jack grinned once again, one of his best. A conniving, sly grin that made every female within sight positively swoon "Aye, I expect that. Or you draw me up a nice little map so's I can see where it is," he replied calmly, and watched as his grin seemed to have no effect on the woman before him. She only seemed to shrink into her seat, further away from him.
Vivien stared at Jack, her mind a whirring maelstrom of excused and emotions. What to say, what to say?
"I-I can't…I won't," she stuttered fervently, and even she cringed at the weakness of her words.
Jack gave her a strange look; a half-smile with eyes narrowed slightly—a calculating expression. "And why not?" he asked after a moment.
"B-Because…" she trailed off slowly. "I don't—I don't know!" She didn't know? What she didn't know was lost of Vivien herself, as she no longer hand any semblance or control over what she was saying. Poor, stupid, petrified Vivien, without a brain in the world and pitted against a weasely pirate captain who looked too good to be evil!
Jack could only groan. "Not this again. I thought we were past this…" he muttered and lifted the bottle to his lips in hopes of drowning out his frustration.
Vivien waited, and then trembled in her seat not unlike a nervous mouse as those eyes were once again staring fixedly at her. M'aide, mon Dieu, for the devil himself has come to tempt me, she thought helplessly.
"Vivien," he spoke, her name lilting on his tongue with the slightest hint of a French accent.
She swallowed nervously, knowing Gibbs must have told his captain her name. She wished fervently he hadn't, but of course he had. He was loyal to this ship and Jack Sparrow.
"Vivien Brideau, daughter of Jacques Brideau and heir to and incredibly large sum of money hidden somewhere off in the Caribbean…that is you, isn't it?" he asked, hands waving while his speech was quick and slurred. They had been through this before…
Timidly, Vivien nodded, for that she could not lie.
Jack smiled, nodding briefly back at her before continuing, "Then, knowing this, you must know where the treasure is, because your dear father thought you the only one privy to this information. Savvy?"
Vivien frowned for a moment at the pirate's knowledge. True, her father had told only her of the treasure—but no one had counted on Dorian Belfast. And of Dorian Belfast, she had no wish to be taken back to Bourbon Island by him and sent back to her prison. But did she want to stay aboard a ship with filthy, murdering pirates?
"I do know," Vivien spoke, and it was only part lie.
Jack felt his good mood being restored and allowed himself to relax back into his chair. "Then you won't have a problem telling me where it is," he stated confidently. Lifting his bottle of rum again, he set his mind on downing the rest—and he was sure he would have if it hadn't been for Vivien's next words.
"But I won't tell you where it is."
Half the rum when the wrong way down his throat while the other half he sprayed out in a choking, coughing fit of surprise. Surely she was jesting! He had almost had it!
Wiping his mouth clear with the sleeve of his off-white shirt and coughing lightly, he glared at the woman. She seemed only mildly pleased with herself. The other three fourths was near fainting on the floor with fear. Coolly, he regarded her. If there was one thing he hated more than being deprived of rum, it was being deprived of his treasure.
"And why not?" he asked with a sneer, seeming to remember asking this before.
Mais oui, now Vivien was petrified. She could practically feel the hostility and frustration oozing off the pirate captain in great waves. Think Vivien, think! She opened her mouth, but it was several moments after that she actually found her voice to speak.
"Because…the treasure is mine," she retorted.
Jack quirked an eyebrow at her, his face stony. "Ah, you mean it would have been yours if you had found the time to claim it before ole Jack here heard about it," he answered swiftly, leaving no room for argument. Almost.
Vivien jutted her chin out, imagining it made her look bolder. "But it is my treasure, and it will stay that way until I decide to give you the location."
He had to admit he was surprised she had lasted this long arguing over this with him. Women, he knew, were simply not meant to barter or do business. Except for Elizabeth, but she was just plain off, in love with a eunuch and all.
So, knowing this, Jack still had the advantage and he could still have the treasure. Smirking slyly to himself—a look Vivien didn't at all like—Jack snatched up the wine and poured them both a glass full. He then settled himself back down and raised a finger in question, still grinning slyly.
"I'm having a small thought here. How about I make a deal with you, love—"
"Mademoiselle Brideau," she cut him off, not one to fool around with proper titles. She wouldn't have him addressing her like a common woman.
"Vivien," Jack amended, deciding her way was too much of a mouthful. "I propose an accord."
The young woman watched him cautiously as he raised his wine. Her hands stayed in her lap, clutching tight the fabric of the cotton dress with sweaty fingers.
"In agreement," he continued, "You tell me where the treasure is, and upon finding it, I send you five percent of the profits. What do ye say to that, eh?"
Vivien supposed he was waiting for her to disagree and demand fifty-fifty, but that would be certain death for her. She shook her head resolutely, using all her willpower to grind out one word.
"No."
The sly smirk dropped from Jack Sparrow's face and he lowered his wine. "No?" he repeated as though the word was foreign to him.
Vivien stayed silent.
"Why do ye say no?" he asked, almost pleasantly.
She could see his face held no confusion, only silent anger and aggravation. Instead of answering his question, Vivien decided to propose an agreement of her own. After all, now was certainly not the time to play fragile fainting female in front of this dangerous and thoroughly annoyed man. No, no, she had to show what small part of her was strong and clever and make a decision of her own.
"How about this, Monsieur Sparrow…" she noticed her mistake when his face darkened even more, but kept to her plan. "I will tell you the location of my father's treasure on agreement of two things."
Jack stared at her a moment, looking positively livid—the type of furious that came with tight lips and narrowed eyes and a silent, unmoving face—before nodding slightly. The beads and trinkets in his hair jingled merrily, the opposite what both parties seemed to be feeling.
Vivien released a deep breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and slowly straightened her back. Stay calm, Vivien, just stay calm…she told herself soothingly and bravely fought to meet Jack's smouldering gaze. "One: I am given safe passage to the Caribbean, not dropped off on any deserted islands or in the middle of the ocean," she said, and truthfully, at this moment whether or not she got her father's treasure was of no great concern. Her neck, however, was. "And condition two: I will only tell you the exact spot of my father's treasure at whatever time I feel is adequate. Agreed?"
Now, Jack Sparrow, for as long as he could remember, had always gotten what he wanted. In the process, if it took some self-sacrifice or a few broken bones that was quite all right. But never would he ever be made a fool of in front of his ship and crew. Especially not by some puffed up French woman who didn't even have her head on straight!
Pursing his lips, Jack gave Vivien a shrewd look, his right hand slowly sliding from the table—a movement she didn't see—before he spoke. "You see, love, that's where we come to a small bump in our agreement, ay?" he began, and before she could get a word in edgewise, he continued. "Now, I'm not going to ask why you would want to rather go to the Caribbean than stay here, because frankly I don't care. I want you off my ship as soon as possible, so either we agree to my terms…or I can extract the location of the treasure the hard way, savvy?"
And quite suddenly, there was a pistol aimed at her nose, Jack Sparrow behind it and his thumb ready to cock it. All she could do was stare—or at least until she realized what was happening and found her voice. At least there was no sword this time…
"You…you're going t-t-to sh-shoot me?" she squealed, hands clutching the arms of her chair, a tiny part inside her outraged that he could be so offhand about the whole thing.
Jack himself didn't really understand what she was so shocked about. What had she expected? For him to give up willingly? He smiled winningly at her. "Only if I feel I need to, m'dear. And don't worry, we'll start with the feet first, they hurt less than the hands," he explained as if that would make everything better. "So, are you going to tell me where the treasure is so I can drop you off in Madagascar and we can both be on our merry ways, or are you not?"
She simply stared, entranced by the barrel of the pistol stuck on her nose.
Jack's face darkened once more. He clearly didn't understand that when Vivien was afraid, the ability to speak was somewhat robbed from her. So he rolled his eyes and cocked the hammer, looking bored with the whole ordeal.
That small movement sent Vivien into a flurry of motion, as she shot up from her chair—sending it toppling over backwards with a loud crash—and snatched a up rather pathetic butter knife from the table. Brandishing her weapon before her, shaking like a leaf in the breeze, she noticed that Jack, too, had risen to his feet.
"D-don't you come any closer!" she warned, swiping the feeble knife as if it would ward all danger off.
Clearly, Jack saw the humour in the situation, and he felt no hesitation to laugh at the terrified woman. Then, leering at her, he slurred spitefully, "And what do you propose to do with that, Vivien?"
She stared at the knife a moment, now looking horrified that she was even holding it, before raising the thing and looking as if to throw it at him.
Making a somewhat frantic noise of warning, Jack aimed his pistol at her feet, hoping the threat would persuade her to at lease abandon the knife so he could approach her. And it worked, as Vivien, never being one to cope with large amounts of stress or fright—as shown many times before—suddenly found the urge to keel over in a dead faint much more appealing that facing the situation at hand.
So, Jack Sparrow watched somewhat helplessly as Vivien's eyes fluttered and her body flopped to the floor of his cabin in the most ungraceful of ways, the knife clattering uselessly to the floor with her. And he simply stared at her a moment, brow furrowed, before slowly lowering his weapon and muttering to one in particular, "I wasn't actually going to shoot her."
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French Translations:
Diaboliquement beau brute – devilishly handsome brute ;)
Mon Dieu – my god
S'il vous plait – 'please,' although I'm sure you all knew that!
Au contraire – on the contrary/quite the opposite
Gens effrayants – scary people
L'incident de moineau – the sparrow incident
En garde – 'in keeps,' but it's used before swordfights and as 'be on guard'
M'aide – help me
Mais oui – oh yes
--Cayenne Pepper Powder