Chapter Seventeen: Understandings
Supper was unusually quiet, and the Clydes, Bennetts, and guests (excluding myself and Andre), ate their food empty of greed or speech. The air was heavily thick with dislike and feud. The Clydes had no position in the problem. They had merely brought it to everyone's attention by inviting Bennett's family to supper. Of course, I was sure Nattie did not do it on purpose. She was probably unaware of Bennett's clear opposition to everything his father did, and so the distress was not her fault. It was the quaint disagreement between father and son that caused the dining atmosphere to be highly burdensome to all of us.
I stood behind Bennett's chair while he dined, as Andre did the same for Dobbin's. One of Nattie's own servants stood behind Roland's chair, for it was custom in the Navy that any officer dining would have a servant behind him.
"You've arrived sooner than expected," said Bennett's father plainly as he dabbed his thin mouth with his napkin.
The acclaimed Lord Bennett was as different to Bennett as day was to night. He was aged, with a wrinkled face and a sharp, bony nose; nothing in the least bit like Bennett's smooth visage. His hands were also thin and if one looked closely, constantly shaking. It was clear the old man was ill with some sort of dormant affliction, but too stubborn to receive treatment for it.
His style could have also been considered antiquated judging by the wig he wore on his head to conceal his certain baldness. His eyes were a steely grey, darkened by some mysterious brutality that I honestly never wanted to see. The man was a leader of the slave trade, and although Port Royal was a main center of that business, I never did like the idea of enslaving people just because they seemed vulnerable and inferior. Who were we to judge that except God? My own family hated the industry. But I dared not speak my mind. Otherwise, the haggard Lord Bennett might have unleashed his all too frightening power.
"I wouldn't have supposed that you would even be waiting for my arrival. I was certain the day I left five years ago that you never wanted me to return," replied Bennett smartly, taking a swig of his wine and laying his bitter blue eyes on the threatening grey orbs of his father.
I sent Andre a look of worry towards the situation and he shrugged. I did not want to see Bennett humiliated, but it seemed as if he was welcoming the quandary to himself.
"Gareth," began Lord Bennett, his mouth stiff but his voice reassuring tranquility. "I do hope to see you progress as a naval officer, which you have indeed succeeded in doing. Perhaps when you are old enough, you may assist in captaining some of my ships."
And as quick as a whip, Bennett slammed his palm on the table, startling all of us and rattling the silent plates and dishes.
"Captain one of your damned ships?" he yelled. "I'd rather die than captain a slaver! My hands are already covered with the blood of the poor souls you have imprisoned just through being your son!" He raised a finger to his father, ridiculing him for his wrongdoing, and I was amazed that he had the nerve to do it amongst guests. "Do you honestly think that I would even—"
"Don't you dare point your finger at me, boy!" roared Lord Bennett, nearly swatting his son across the face with the words. His voice was pitiless and cold, but it contained some right to its viciousness as the father. "Whether you like it or not, you are part of this family. You are my son and will live by my regulations. Whatever honor you have means nothing if you cannot share it with me."
"Why?" argued Bennett, his eyes widening with pure wrath. "So that you may redeem your family when in truth you have no honor left! I refuse to give credit to you for any of my accomplishments! I earned them myself! What honor is there in condemning innocent people to a life of slavery! To force them onto your boats and away from their homes! If anyone is the disgrace, it is you. And I will no longer be part of it."
Lord Bennett rose from his seat, startling his young wife and oblivious young son, his bony hands clenched and his mouth trembling with rage.
"Get up!" he ordered Bennett, but his son stayed in his seat, glaring back at his livid father, calm and proud at the stand he was making. The old man was furious and leaned forward, pointing a stiff finger at his resolute son. "Get up and get out! You deny your own blood; that is fine with me. But if you do so, then you have no relation to anyone here. For it is my son who is acquainted with these people and since you no longer wish to be that, you do not know them."
Bennett leapt from his seat so quickly that he nearly pushed his chair straight into me, but I managed to pull back just in time. "So be it," he murmured, glowering at his father before exiting the dining hall.
I heard his footsteps echo as he marched farther away and when he was out of sight, the slam of the front doors was heard. My immediate sense to go after him was stayed by Nattie's order for Andre and me to take our meals in the kitchen while she and Mister Clyde discussed the problem with the Bennetts. From somewhere within though, I knew no other person could resolve their dilemma but father and son themselves.
"Lord, can Bennett and his ol' man fight!" applauded Dobbin as all of us lads took a stroll about Nattie and Ian's gardens to walk off the food we had gorged ourselves with. Dobbin was rather thrilled with Bennett's brawl with his own blood father, which I found rather unbecoming, especially for Dobbin being an admiral's son. But life had always surprised me with the most interesting of people and dear Robert Lester was certainly one of them.
"I think Lord Bennett can still hear you," I posed, nudging Dobbin with a bump of my arm. He shrugged it off with a huff and continued to meander about the cool night atmosphere.
"Eh, let 'im listen," retorted Dobbin. "It's not like he'll send me on one o' his slavers. My father would—"
"Yes, your father," I interrupted. "But as ye can see, Bennett an' his father are not on good terms and so ye don't need t' make things worse for them. By God, all of you, save for Andre and me, are lucky to have such good relationships with your blood father." I sighed and stuffed my balled hands into the pockets of my trousers and looked up at the glistening stars and glowing white moon above me. "I never got a chance to know mine."
My eyes studied the glinting stars while the chatter of the lads died into the soft chirp of crickets hiding in the dark. Was Jack looking at a similar sky? Or was I alone in gazing at the measureless span of sparkling black? I had been out to sea for almost a year and still no sign of him. And the dreams were coming less often.
"Jack?" said a voice behind me, I gradually bent my head to face my speaker and found Roland looming towards me. I looked past his shoulder and saw Andre and Dobbin heading for the house again.
"Hullo, brother," I said quietly. As he reached me, he stretched his arm over my shoulders and looked up with me at the sky.
"Ready to go in?" he asked, clearly not finding the same interest I did in the infinite array of stars blinking above us.
"Not quite," I answered. I narrowed my eyes on my target and at last found what I was looking for. Pointing a finger at it and leaning a bit into my good brother, I puffed proudly, "That's the North Star."
"I kind of knew that already, Jack," replied Roland with a controlled, soft chuckle.
"Jack told me that a long time ago. I remember. Do you think he does?" I felt Roland's sigh in my ears and I knew he was a bit bothered by the question. He knew less of Captain Jack Sparrow than I did.
"He's a captain. He'll know it all his life. C'mon. Dobbin and Andre are probably wondering what we're up to." He pulled gently on my arm to give me that small push towards the doors to the house but I would not leave yet.
"You go ahead. I'm gonna wait until Bennett comes back. Someone should be waiting for him when he returns." Roland tilted his head to the side and peered at me as a grin surfaced his young face. "What?" I groused, annoyed with the sudden mischievous smirk his lips had formed.
"Oh, nothing, Jack," he said softly. "I hope you know what you're doing, sister."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded, poking a finger at his chest, which was shaking from inner laughter.
"I believe someone has a bit of a fancy for his supervising officer," he snickered happily to himself.
"That is absolutely false," I defended. "I have Adam. Bennett's a friend. I feel sorry for him."
"Of course you do, you little bugger," mocked Roland.
"Roland," I growled. "I'm warning you." But he hushed me with a raised hand.
"I won't say a word. Just make sure you get enough sleep." He gave my shoulder a few pats before moseying back to the Clyde house and I couldn't help but think about what he had just said about Bennett and me. I was in no position to be falling in love.
I had to find Jack.
The deep low 'bong' coming from the grandfather clock resounded throughout the den. From my position on the couch, I transferred my vision from the book I was reading to the clock itself and stole a glance at its hands. It was eleven in the evening and still no Bennett.
Almost everyone in the house was asleep. All of Nattie's servants were sent to their quarters, but she and her husband hadn't gone to bed as expected. They stayed awake with Bennett's father, and by the look of Nattie's deflated face she seemed most burdened about Bennett's lengthy departure and probably blamed herself for it. She sat in a rocking chair, knitting again, and I began to wonder who on earth she would be knitting for, for surely she and her husband had clearly out grown any thoughtfully interlaced articles of clothing.
Of course, Ian sat in an armchair closest to her, scribbling onto some music sheets and without a doubt composing another of his simple tunes. At times, he'd get up and take a seat on the bench of his very large and simply decorated pianoforte. With a quill wedged between his teeth, he'd tap a few keys with both hands, sending a lively jolt of melody through the silent den and then scribble more notes onto his paper.
Lord Bennett sat closest to the entrance of the den, so that he would have full view of the door if it was ever opened. He sat hunched in the chair he sat in, his thin, dried bottom lip jutting out a bit as he attempted to occupy himself with a book and the newspaper of that day. Perhaps he was looking for the arrival of any ships or news concerning his trade, despite how awful it was.
I stretched out my legs a bit on the couch and accidentally nudged the insensate limbs of my brother who lied opposite me on the couch, dozing off with his silly top hat covering his eyes. Unlike Dobbin and Andre, he decided to stay up with me, probably not trusting me to be alone with Bennett in the middle of the night, if the young man would even arrive. But clearly, his strong desire for sleep was stronger than his intent to keep a watchful eye on me, and the drool dripping down his cheek was enough for me to safely conclude that Roland William Turner would not be waking any time soon.
There came a grunt and the crunch of a few rumpled papers, and Lord Bennett slowly rose from his seat, a hand on his bent back but with a face declining any pain. Straightening himself as he organized the newspaper and book in his arms, he addressed the Clydes with a surprisingly more gentle voice.
"Forgive me, Mister Clyde. I cannot wait any longer for my son here. I already sent my wife and son home and I believe I should join them. A man of my age should honestly be resting at this moment." Natalie immediately dropped her knitting and got up with Ian tagging by her side.
"If your son does return, I will be sure to send one of my messengers to you, Lord Bennett. I apologize for the inconvenience, sir," she said, her voice weighed with remorse.
"No need to apologize, Missus Clyde. For as long as I can remember, it has been like this. I bid you both good night." With a quick nod of agreement with his wife, Ian led Lord Bennett to the front doors and had the doorman usher them out. Lord Bennett had sent his carriage with his wife and son, and so Ian would have to accompany the old man in his own.
Nattie followed their footsteps to the open door and waved them goodbye before the door was shut and she re-entered the den, her countenance still appearing crestfallen.
"Well, Jack," she said, sitting down in her rocking chair and resuming her knitting, her small hands working swiftly with the sharp, gleaming needles. "It appears as though only you and I are awake." She nodded over at Roland who rolled onto his side with a moan, and I laughed.
"What are you knitting?" I asked, having wanted to ask it since after supper.
"Oh, nothing," she said, smiling a bit. "It's a hobby of mine." From her clear refusal to answer that question directly, I decided not to persist and went on with another of my questions.
"Have you gotten any letters from Adam?" She looked up from her working hands and smiled at me, knowing why the question was asked.
"I've received only one, Jack," she said, slightly disappointed. "I do know that he is in India at the moment with our father. All of them were supposed to relocate here, but it seemed as if the Admiralty had other plans for them. I am sure he is enjoying his time in India though."
"Did he mention me?" I couldn't help but ask, feeling that she'd say nothing but 'yes.'
"I'm sorry, Jack, but he didn't." What? The book I was reading slipped from my hands and dropped to the floor, and my teeth had unclenched and lay open in my shocked mouth.
"What?" I squeaked, not wanting to believe it for one second.
"Oh, no, Astrid," she said, getting up from her seat and apologizing again. "Adam and I don't talk about those things. If he wrote a letter to your brother or his friends, I am sure he'd mention you. Come now, saucy sailor girls don't cry."
"I wasn't going to cry," I defended, sniffing a bit and permitting myself to blink more than usual for a few moments. "When next he writes, please mention me in your reply," I said, almost as a plea.
"I promise, sister. It will be done." I released a sigh of relief and lay back onto the couch, hugging myself a bit. I never realized how heart-sore I had become without having the affection of a man who loved me.
Nattie went back to her needles and thread and I remained without any words to say, wondering how Adam was doing. I didn't even know where India was, despite all of the atlases Stephen had given me as a gift. I was sure I could look it up, but its location might have just worsened my longing for him. He was probably having fun without me anyway, and I was certain he made many a girl squeal with delight at his breathtaking presence.
I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest. With all that he had done so far, would he even remember me? The boy had traveled the world and what had I done? I got in a scuffle with the French and was stuck on land again, moping.
Oh Adam, you little ba… no, I can't call you that just because you didn't mention me in your letter to your sister. I hope she's right about how you don't talk about those things. But if I find out what you've really been doing, Adam, and if I find out that you've been fooling around with the other lasses, well, I'll show you, Adam. And I won't just show you with some nameless sailor. I'm gonna go find my young Mister Bennett and—
Suddenly, Nattie gave a stifled retch and I shot up from the couch as she dropped her knitting and covered her open mouth with her hand. She scurried quickly out of the room with wobbling steps and I dared not follow her, even more astounded and faintly frightened by her abrupt vomiting. Distantly, I heard her regurgitating her food and just by the sounds I thought I might vomit too. But the front door opened and in walked Ian, instantly drawn to the sound echoing through the house and without closing the door ran to where his wife was, which was in the kitchen.
While he went to comfort her, I got up and closed the door, and when I turned back around to head for the den again, I saw Ian walking alone back to the den. Now even more confused, I was not about to leave it at that.
"Is she sick?" I asked. After Ian gestured for me to return to the den, he sat down at his pianoforte and I took my place at the couch and he looked at me with that ubiquitous fatherly stare.
"No, she's not. Far from it actually." He paused and I couldn't really find a reply, for I was still trying to solve the odd mystery myself. Then what? I asked myself inside. "She's pregnant," he said, smiling. And my once suspicious face was smacked with joy. Nattie was going to have a baby!
I gave a gleeful but silent hoot before Ian urged me to sit down again. "When?" I demanded.
"She began feeling a bit ill the past few days and so we saw a doctor and he confirmed it."
"That is wonderful!" I squealed. "You're gonna be a mum and dad!"
Ian chuckled nervously, perhaps not anticipating my excitement over the ordeal.
"I imagine it t' be quite a daunting career," he said, focusing his eyes on the black and white keys.
"Why?" I questioned. "I'm sure you and Nattie would make wonderful parents." He smiled and with a sigh got up from the piano bench and looked at me, much in the same way Roland had that evening.
"You've decided to wait for Bennett then, aye?" I suspected why the question was asked and remembered Roland's assumption that I admired Bennett.
"Yes," I answered. "Just to make sure he hasn't gotten himself dead drunk." Nattie's splendid Scottish husband merely laughed lightly and walked out of the room, but not without saying, "I hope you know what you are doing, Miss Turner."
When morning came at last, it did not bring Bennett along with it. All it brought was a sudden scream from Roland to find that I had slept across from him.
"Good God!" he screamed, jumping to his feet and stumbling to the floor in the process. "Jack!"
I groaned and swatted the air around my face to rid any disturbances near me.
"Arr, curse ye for breathin' ye scurby landluvver!" I growled, shaking a fist at the air. I felt a warm hand slap my face and force my eyes open, and I saw Roland William Turner hovering above me, his visage puckered with amusement and confusion.
"For one," he said, straightening his jacket. "It is scurvylandlubber not scurby landluvver. And two, I believe it is morning and breakfast is being made." I rubbed my eyes vigorously and sat up, scratching my head.
"Morning already? Is Bennett back?" At that, Roland laughed and hauled me to my feet.
"No, young handsome Mister Bennett is still out in town probably in bed with one of the local harlots," he grinned. "And most likely as drunk as Davy's sow," he added, while I got up and confronted him with blazing eyes. If I knew Bennett, I knew he would never be caught dead in a whorehouse.
"He's still not back?" I moaned, wiping my hands with my face. The sunlight from the windows was streaming out and shooting at my tired eyes. This was definitely not a glorious morning. "Dammit, how long will that boy hold his grudge!" I glared around the den, my eyes hurriedly searching for my hat and coat. I was going to find Bennett and slap sense into him.
"What do you think you're doing, Jack?" asked Roland, stopping me from heading upstairs to my room to snatch my coat and hat and then jump out the front doors.
"Bennett needs to be found, Roland. I don't care what you say, he's my friend and I will not have him run away from his problems forever. You know very well what I am talking about because you've been there yourself, ye drunken bastard."
"Bennett is almost nineteen years old, Jack. I think he can take care of himself," remarked Roland with a bit of a scoff as he followed me up the stairs to my room. The boy seemed oddly intent on keeping me away from Bennett, but such was the nature of brothers. Always wary of who their sisters fancied, that was, of course, if I fancied Bennett, which I didn't think I did.
"Well, I don't!" I yelled in return, bursting into my room. I located my coat and hat, put them on and was back to running down the stairs to begin my search for that blasted Bennett.
"Jack!"
Roland protested against me leaving, sending me his threatening look as if he was our good old dad, but there was one problem with all of these fatherly protections to me. Here I was on a quest to find my true father, and yet one young man out there had run away from his, apparently not thankful at all for that blessing. If anyone needed the fatherly protection, it was Bennett.
"I'll be back, brother," I said. "Save me some breakfast, will you?" And in a split second, I was out to search for my good mate in a city I rarely knew.