Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.
A/N: You all have been very patient little poppets...
James had to admit that he was a trifle confused when his hostess offered to continue his stay. He had planned on having another slice of bread, allowing himself another glass of wine and then planned on heading back to the ship and his men. James had already stayed longer than he had intended and he was sure that his men would be beginning to wonder about his absence. But if Julia wanted him to stay, then as a gentleman he could hardly refuse her request.
Gathering his plate and wineglass, James followed Julia out of the gathering room into the parlor. To call the room formal was a bit of a stretch, as the parlor was filled with overstuffed furniture and overflowing bookcases. Besides, there was the sitting room upon entry into the home, which acted as a waiting area for the good doctor's patients. James mused that if the Ramages needed to stand on ceremony, the sitting room could act as a formal parlor.
Allowing his thoughts to refocus on his current surroundings, James eyed the grand piano before a large window, a surprising large casement considering how precious glass was. The instrument looked more at home in a concert hall than a drawing room in a doctor's home. Absently, James ran his fingers across a few of the ivories as he followed Julia to a settee, the notes reverberating through the room.
A smile was on his lips as he nodded towards the baby grand. "Quite an impressive instrument. Did you ever play?"
Julia wanted to scoff. Why else would someone own a piano? "I still do, if I feel the urge. And have the time. My parents spent a lot of years – and a lot of money – so that I would be a virtuoso. It was one of the few things that I did that my husband found… pleasant." There, that was nice and politic.
James mulled over the phrasing of his hostess' words and quirked an eyebrow upwards in curiosity. "So I take it you are talented?" When he had been an officer in the British Royal Navy, James had been paraded before many eligible young ladies in throughout England and Port Royal, Jamaica. And they all had one thing in common – overbearing mothers who thought their daughters could play the piano, despite the fact to the contrary.
It took everything in Julia's power not to roll her eyes. Instead, she stood and crossed the room under the pretense of checking the skies. While the chowder had been simmering, Julia had noticed that the sky was turning overcast and gray to the west, indicating an incoming storm.
Turning away from the window, Julia smiled tightly, as if her thoughts were split between her guest and some other location. "Quite. I care not for braggarts, but I am about to become one. If I had been born a male, I would be playing with a symphony somewhere in Europe, commanding outrages prices for my appearances. But, instead, I played recitals in drawing rooms for friends and family." Julia paused, then added, "And when my husband said it would soothe him after a difficult day." Julia shrugged. "I do not play it often enough, but put a blindfold on me and I can pluck out a tune."
James smirked and asked, "Then would you?"
Sighing, Julia realizing too late that her statement would be twisted back onto itself by her guest. Pursing her lips, Julia took the few steps from the window to the piano and plucked out a lively but simple tune, finishing with a flourish. Feeling especially saucy, she then slid onto the bench, closed her eyes and let her fingers glide across the ivories, just as surprised as her guest by the tune that emerged. A funeral dirge that Julia composed for her husband the night she learned of his death.
Unable to think an appropriate response, James downed the rest of his wineglass in one gulp. Once the liquid hit his stomach, the blood in his veins roared with heat. Nothing profound sprung forward, but an acknowledgement came forth. "That was beautiful. Who was that?"
Julia sat quietly, head bent in repose, her eyes still closed. A quiet chuckle, completely devoid of mirth, was her immediate response. "'Twas me. It was the only thing I could think of to give my husband as a thank you for all he did for me after I heard of his passing."
James cupped his chin in hand, his elbow on his knee, stunned that something so… eloquent could be created by the women before him. The woman who had vexed him for so long. The woman who was becoming less and less irritating as time went on. "'Tis beautiful. But from how you have spoken, I did not think that… he would inspire… I did not think your husband would be so deserving of such… tribute. From what you have implied…"
Julia surged off the piano bench, anger fueling her launch. Unsure of whether to rage in her guest's face or to storm out of the room, she opted for neither. Pacing before the fireplace, she replied in a voice so quiet that James was unsure if she was talking to him or herself. "He gave me respectability. He gave me an envious standing in the community. He… he… gave… He did not beat me. Much. Even when I was unable to bear him children. I could not ask for more. A dirge was the least I could do for him. The absolute least."
Knowing he was bating her, James was unable to resist. Dryly, he replied, "Some would ask for love."
With a short bark of a laugh, Julia pushed herself away from the mantle, then crossed the room back to her guest. Sinking onto the settee next to James, she realized too late that her proximity to the captain was inappropriate. She should have sat on the couch opposite the loveseat. Too late now. Just make a fuss over your tea and that might deflect some of the impropriety. "Remember, I thought I had that once… and my world came crashing down around me. I am not so foolish as to think one needs love in their marriage in order for it to be successful. In fact, love might confuse the arrangement. When I remarry, it shall be for security and nothing more."
Julia watched his eyebrow ride upwards and covered her smile by taking a sip of long cold tea, but nearly choked on it when James demanded, "Remarry? Whatever for? As a widow, you are afforded many freedoms that other women would find envious."
Indignant, Julia set her teacup down on its saucer so violently that it clattered. "The same freedoms that many men take for granted. Actually, such freedoms most men would find stifling or even barbaric. But my freedoms are expensive to upkeep and working as a midwife in a town not densely populated with pregnant women is not particularly profitable. As soon as I am out of mourning, I shall have to look into finding a husband."
Quickly running his tongue along the inside of his lower lip in an attempt to get his thought process flowing, James found Julia's words curious. Not until the mention of making port did she show any signs of being in mourning. "During the course of your passage, I do not recall you wearing the mourning dress that you have on now. Or any other mourning dress. And has it not been long enough to be in mourning for a man you did not love?" He knew his words were inflammatory, but the idea of Julia looking to remarry suddenly filled him with panic. And the feeling was quite irritating to James.
Julia's nostrils flared white in anger. What she wore – and when she wore it – was no concern of the captain's. Taking a deep breath in order to swallow back a retort, Julia willed herself to be civil. The man is a guest in your home and shall be accorded certain… margins. Do not forget the diversion the two of you have been having of late. "Well, not that it is any of your concern, but the heat of the Caribbean was too sweltering for the wearing of black. I started the trip with many more dresses than I left with. And, I had hoped to remain independent for a lot longer than it looks like I will be able. Mourning kept prospective suitors at bay."
Having faced fearless pirates and numerous battles, James was heartily ashamed of himself – but helpless as well – when a feeling of dread coursed through his veins. It was not so much the idea that Julia was being pragmatic and thinking in financial terms, but that another man would be taking her to bed every night. The idea of another man having privileges with Julia caused James' stomach to lurch, despite his initial assessment that she laid with any man for a coin. "When do you think you shall…?" James faltered. "When do you think your period of mourning will end?"
The tone of his words, the near anguish in what he asked, startled Julia. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Was this not the same man who treated her like a pariah upon first meeting? Suddenly, the room seemed very small and the proximity of her knee to his was entirely too close. Julia had to concentrate on the timing of her breathing lest she hyperventilate. Not looking at the man sitting next to her, Julia absently picked up her teacup and stumbled over her words. "I mean not to be rude, truly I do not, but why do you ask? What business is it of yours?"
"Absolutely none," James purred, glad to see Julia uncomfortable. His concern was quickly dissipating with the appearance of Julia's confusion. "However, you are the only woman I know who has slid in and out of her period of mourning according to the weather conditions." Seeing how she was getting angry again, James put his hands up in mock surrender. "I am overstepping my boundaries as a guest in your home – I am fully aware of my impropriety. I just find you an enigma and am doing my damnedest to figure you out. Please, take that as a compliment rather than an insult. Despite my initial opinions of you when we met, I have known you to be unlike any other female – nay like anyone at all – I have ever met. I also mean that as a compliment, so do not think I am being facetious. But I would be remiss if I did not comment that I hope you do not marry rashly. I have no right to offer such advice, but I offer it regardless."
Julia was grateful that a lightening flash illuminated the room, allowing her to look away from her guest, but the resulting boom from the thunder that immediately followed caused her to rise from her seat. Oblivious to the possible danger, she drifted to the window and focused on a tree branch scratching against the house. The sky was darker than any night Julia could recall in the Caribbean, but the continued lightening cast her skin in a glow. Thunder rattled the house again, causing pictures to thump against the walls and earthenware to clink against each other on their shelves. Julia shivered in anxiety and rubbed her arms, trying to will away the goose bumps that appeared on her skin.
"The storm… I do not recall such ferocity in such a very long time," Julia said as she paced before the window. Rain pelted the glass and the fierce wind beat at everything in its path with ruthless cruelty. Julia inwardly cringed, but was unable to look away from the weather outside her window.
James was silent as he followed his hostess to the large window overlooking the harbor. In truth, he was afraid that if the storm shattered the glass, Julia would find herself cut to a thousand pieces. What he could do if his concern came to fruition, James did not know, but the closer he was to her, the more her could do. And faster. Also, it was as if an invisible leash tethered him to her side. If asked, James knew he would deny it, but he felt as helpless as a devoted pup following its master.
"Maybe 'tis the storm that we survived finally catching up with us." His voice was hushed, as if he were speaking to himself.
A thunderclap broke, the noise deafening. Startled, Julia took a step back from the window and bumped into James, who, instinctively, placed a hand on her waist to help her keep her balance.
Julia looked down at his hand; the physical contact radiated heat through the fabric of her skirt. Moments passed, and yet he did not remove his fingers; the act of his hand holding her was so intimate and yet so comforting. Her heart beat so fast that Julia was breathless in anticipation that it would burst forth from her chest and take flight. She then turned and looked up into his eyes, unasked questions dancing across her features. Gone was the cold aloofness in the green depths she had come to know. Instead, the detachment was replaced with warmth and compassion. She smiled and he returned her grin with a shy one of his own.
That smile of his. When it appeared, it warmed her to the depth of her core. Unable to help herself, her gaze left his eyes and settled on his lips. And then very unladylike thoughts entered her mind. Her breathing increased even more.
Feeling her cheeks burn, she allowed herself to again glance up into his eyes to see if he had noticed.
He had. But like a rabbit frozen in the path of a hunter, Julia was unable to look away and instead of continuing to feel embarrassed, she felt the rising panic dissipate and wash away. The look on his face was pure calm and Julia clung to his radiating tranquility.
His eyes now asked his own silent question. And instead of being surprised or apprehensive, Julia felt calm. Nodding her head slightly, she watched as he lowered his mouth to hers.
