A/N Okay, so here's the next chapter. I have most of the chapters written now, so will be updating frequently. Please read and tell me what you think. Thanks!

Chapter Seventeen

The figure stepped aside, and Annamaria entered the tavern. It was a small, circular room, occupied mainly by men. There were about twenty tables, each surrounded by numerous stools. There were men, of all descriptions, drinking, bartering their wares, and gambling over packs of cards. Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, Annamaria stared up at the woman who had called her back into the pub. Her red dress was heavily sequined and there was a layer of lace around the rim that brushed defiantly along the floor. Her face was circular, her lips bright red, and her eyes as cold as they had been in the moonlight.

"Harriet Darlington?" She asked.

Annamaria nodded, after all that shouting she seemed to have lost her voice, or the will to use it.

"Harriet Darlington, of the Darlington family?" The woman demanded.

Annamaria nodded once again, she was so shocked at being invited in that she didn't speak. The woman led her though the bar, where both were ignored by the drunken men. Behind the bar stood a flighty girl, who was swaying on her bare legs. She looked more drunk then some of the customers.

"Sarah!" Molly snapped her fingers as they pass, causing the barmaid's eyes to open.

"Lea' me alone!" The girl replied, turning her bloodshot eyes to them.

Molly rolled her eyes as she steered Annamaria through to the back room.

"That girl! I'll swing for her one of these days! She arrived on a merchant ship a few months ago; I took her on out of pity!" The woman spat.

Annamaria chocked back a scorn. She doubted this blustering woman before her had any pity.

"I've trained her best I can, but it's like trying to teach a parrot how to play the pianoforte!" she snarled.

After finishing her rant about the poor serving girl, Molly finally turned to the girl she had dragged from the streets.

"You said something about Harriet Darlington?"

Annamaria nodded once again, and at last finding her tongue, she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes, she is…she was…my mother."

"Was?"

"She's dead."

Molly scoffed. "Why doesn't that surprise me? She was a sinner if ever I've seen one, a girl of such loose morals…"

"She was a beautiful woman, and I loved her!" Annamaria cried angrily.

Molly's eyes widened, as though she was seeing Annamaria for the first time. "How old are you, girl?" she demanded, grabbing the girl's shoulders.

Annamaria wriggled free of her pincer grip and whirled round to face her. "I'm thirteen!"

"And your father?"

She shrugged.

"Who's your father?" Molly demanded.

"I don't know!" Annamaria insisted.

Molly turned so she was looking out of the window on to the stables. "Fourteen years ago your mother was engaged to my brother, they were very happy together, though neither had much of a future. The stupid girl had gone and got herself pregnant, and my brother, the gallant fool he was, had stepped forward to put a ring on her finger, "make an honest woman out of her!" Only…" Molly broke off, and a rare sign of emotion flashed over her face.

"He died." Annamaria finished.

Molly nodded with a sigh. "That's right, found at the bottom of the cliff. Well, I didn't wait to see what became of his fiancé; I just wanted to get away from that place. I was questioned, but his death was put down as misadventure. Basically, whilst drunk, he had trundled off the cliff."

Annamaria shook her head, vehemently. "He was killed, I know he was killed! Tobias pushed him."

Molly turned to her, with real shock printed across her face. "Tobias? I have never heard of any Tobias…"

"He married my mother."

"I knew that woman would always land on her feet!" Molly complained, bitterly. "So she had my brother's child, you, and found herself a nice husband to replace my brother. Unfortunately, his place in my heart could no so easy be replaced."

"Tobias never replaced him! She hated him!" Annamaria insisted, angrily. But she wasn't really thinking. At last she knew her father was; Graeme Hunter. And this woman, this large, bitter woman with the lacy red dress, was her aunt.

Molly scowled, she didn't like being interrupted. "And so I came here. I made a place for myself in Tortuga, and bought this tavern with what little money Graeme had left me!"

She turned from the window, her eyes resting on Annamaria's face. "That makes me your aunt." She said, softly.

"I know." Annamaria muttered.

"Where are you staying?"

A tiny glimmer of hope reawakened in Annamaria's troubled heart. Was this woman going to offer her a place to live? "I'm…I have nowhere…"

The woman's face twitched in annoyance. "I expected as much. Well, then, there is a spare room upstairs. You may sleep there for a few nights."

"Thanks!"

"But it is only temporary. One question though, how did you know where to find me? I never mentioned my past to anyone, except Sarah, and she's hardly in a fit state to divulge her boss's secrets."

Annamaria's thoughts went to Jack's letter, how had he known where her family was? "My friend left me a letter…" She began, talking half to herself. Friend? Was Jack a friend?

"Let me see it!" Molly demanded.

"I threw it away." Annamaria said, apologetically.

The woman shook her head angrily, and said something which sounded distinctly like, "children!". She took the young girl back through the bar; Sarah was propped up on one of the wooden tables, a tray in her right hand collecting glasses. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a loud crash, and a gentle rumble of disapproving voices.

Molly turned back; Sarah had dropped the tray and several tankards had rumbled across the floor, spilling their half drunken contents.

"It's first door on the left." Molly said, giving Annamaria a push towards the stairs. "I've got to sort out my silly waitress!"

So Annamaria climbed the stairs alone. She pushed open the nearest door and entered a rather shabby room. It wasn't well kept, and what did she expect with just Molly and Sarah working there? There was a washstand in the corner, a chest of draws opposite a grimy window, and a bed with yellowing sheets. But no matter what the room was like, Annamaria was happy to be there. At last she had found her family. If only Molly had taken Harriet with her, Harriet wouldn't have married Tobias; she wouldn't have killed herself, and the thirteen year old could have grown up in the Harrowing Star. For once in her life, she closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep, contented to be herself.