A.N./ I have thorougly researched prices, rum, the fashions, and even the layout of eighteenth century mansions/water closets. Everything here is as historically correct as I could make it.
I couldn't find an exact price on rum, so I based it off gin. Since one penny was enough to get drunk on gin, and it was a completely inferior and disgusting drink, I am very sure that rum would be more expensive. A tuppence, or two pennies, would be enough to get dead drunk on gin, so I figured that a tuppence would be enough to buy a decent glass of rum. Also, I researched how it was made, and its different flavours, depending on how long it was aged.
Also, a nightgown is not the same as what we are familiar with now. It is a cross between a gown, and a bathrobe, according to SirenoftheStorm's The Official Fanfiction University of the Caribbean. A morning gown is an article you wuold throw on over your chemise when you wake up. A shift is the undergarmentthat goes to around mid thigh, and would be under the gown. A chemise is what women would wear to bed.
Enjoy!
-MP(MidgetPhantom)!
Once again, Catherine Tuttle came home sopping wet and tired. Thomas didn't comment on her appearance this time, other than sniff a bit and shake his head, and allowed her to meander off into the depths of the house.
"Thomas?" she called suddenly, coming to an abrupt halt.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, appearing at her elbow. "Did you need something?"
"When are my parents coming back from England again? Did they ever say?"
"I do recall your father telling us they would be back before the holidays, but that is all I can recall ma'am."
"Thank you Thomas. That is all I needed."
The butler nodded smartly and exited through a door leading off into the parlour, where there was a game of cards going with the gardener.
"Nancy?" she called, entering the overly warm kitchen.
"Aye, lass? What is it ye be needin'?" she called from somewhere in the back of the room.
"Could I possibly have a cup of tea? And maybe a crumpet or something else to nibble on? Anything will do, really."
"I have some toast. Ye want that?" the red haired woman asked, coming into view.
"Yes, thank you. You're a godsend, Nancy. You really are."
The cook just waved it away good naturedly and said, "I'll be sendin' young Gracie up with it then, aye?"
"Yes. Thank you again," Catherine said, walking slowly out the room again. "Oh," she called over her shoulder. "I shall be in the sitting room. Please tell her that when she comes to bring me my tray."
After she finished her tea and toast, Catherine decided it was time to get to work. She hurried up the stairs to her room and rifled through her clothes press until she found an old pair of worn, black britches, a matching shirt and waist coat, and sable coloured stockings that had belonged to her brother, Richard, back when he was a boy. Richard, who was the image of their father except for the eyes and nose, was back in London for the season with her parents. She had opted to stay and manage the household in their absence.
Slipping them on, Catherine looked at her reflection in the mirror and smirked.
'I love these clothes,' she thought to herself. 'I can move!'
The clock chimed eight, snapping her back into business. She rummaged around her room, and managed to come up with the vilest pink coloured ribbons she could find, stuffing them into the pocket of her waist coat as she went along. Next, she braided her hair, coiling it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Deciding that she was still missing a crucial part of her outfit, she went into her parents' room, and dug out an old black tricorn, settling it onto her head at a jaunty angle.
She raced back along the corridor into her room and skidded to a halt, finding a small coin purse and dropping it into her other pocket, before grabbing her brother's lock pick and jamming it into the pocket that contained the money. Slipping on a pair of shoes her brother had cast aside years and years ago, she traipsed back along the corridor, went down the stairs, and out the door.
The walk to town wasn't long at all, and soon she found herself in a tavern called The Bonny Lass, ordering a glass of rum.
"How much?" she asked, taking out her coin purse.
"Eh?" the bartender said. Obviously, he was hard of hearing.
"I said, how much?" she shouted.
"Alrigh', alrigh' no need to shout, man," he grumbled. "That'll be a tuppence, sir."
Rolling her eyes, she handed him the two pennies, took her rum, and settled down in a corner, content to sip the mellow bodied drink and wait until she was sure Norrington was in bed, or at least preparing for it.
Once she had emptied her glass twice over and felt that her nerves were bolstered enough, she left the tavern, and dragged her feet to kill more time until she reached where Norrington lived.
The house was large, but comfortable looking, with wide, sweeping lawns and a good sized stable towards the rear. It had been painted stark white, with black shutters and a dark, oaken door. Glancing up, she saw a light flicker on in one of the windows, and then Norrington's profile through the glass.
"Perfect," she muttered.
Catherine was never sure afterwards how she got inside, but that didn't really matter at the moment. What did was finding her way into his room, now that she was actually in his house.
"Bugger," she mumbled, as footsteps sounded in the corridor. Catherine looked around desperately for a place to hide, and darted into the grandfather clock just in time, for a maid walked around the corridor seconds after. Holding as still as possible, she thanked anyone who was possibly listening for being short. The maid glanced around to make sure everything was in its proper place, then continued on until she was out of sight.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Catherine slipped back out, and went toward the stairs, slipping off her shoes as she went. Getting up them was no problem, and neither was sneaking into Norrington's room. His door had been left wide open, allowing her a brief time to dive in and slide under the bed while he was in the water closet. Not too long afterward, Norrington entered, and began readying himself for bed. Catherine mentally groaned as first his waist coat came off, then the cravat and shirt.
"Oh no," she whispered, when the britches followed shortly after, along with the shoes and stockings. On went the night shirt, and off went the candle. After a while(it could have been several minutes, or half an hour to Catherine), his breathing deepened, and he began to snore.
Dragging herself out as quietly as she could from underneath the bed, Catherine made her way over to the wig stands, her eyes thankfully somewhat adjusted to the darkness, and drew out the pink ribbons from her pocket. Naturally, the first thing she did was knock over a candlestick, but thankfully she caught it before it could clatter to the floor and wake up the object of this latest stunt.
Grabbing the end of the black ribbon on the first wig, she gave a sharp tug, grinning as the bow came loose in her hand. After tying on a frilly pale pink concoction of lace and satin, she moved onto the next one, and the next, repeating the process until each wig had at least one bow on it. Grinning to herself, she whispered, "Good night, Commodore. Have fun in the morning!" and darted out the door.
Norrington settled his wig on his head and was just about to walk out of his bedroom when a flash of pink caught his eye in the mirror.
"What in the…" he mumbled, going back to look into the glass. Everything appeared normal, until he turned his head to the side. "How…?" Perplexed, he removed the wig and hunted around for the black ribbon that had previously secured it, but could find none. A growing suspicion was forming in his mind as to who had done this, but he couldn't be exactly sure until he had a look at all the other wigs. It was confirmed when he saw that each and every one of them had a pink bow, some even sporting two or three.
"Jacob!" he bellowed.
The butler came hurrying into the room. "Yes, James lad?" the older man asked, looking slightly confused.
"When you locked up last night, did you notice anything, or anyone around the premises?" Norrington asked tersely, rummaging through a drawer.
"Not at all, boy. Why do you ask?"
"Because someone, by the name of Miss Catherine Tuttle, slipped in and changed all the ribbons on my wigs. It was after everyone was asleep, because they were fine before I retired for the night."
Jacob snorted into his handkerchief, pretending he had a cough to cover it up. "A wee little lass did this?"
"You know what she did to The Dauntless several days ago," Norrington said, looking extremely peeved. "I have a small debt to settle. Please send word ahead of me to the fort, informing them that I shall unfortunately be a bit later than usual, due to unforeseen circumstances."
Jacob nodded once, then burst out laughing once the Commodore had left the room.
A fierce pounding on the door startled Catherine out of a dreamless slumber.
"Grace? Who's trying to knock down the door?" she called out, her voice still hoarse from sleep.
"I do believe it is the Commodore, ma'am. He looks right angry, he does!" she said nervously. "What did you do this time, if it's not to bold to say?"
"I daresay you shall see in a moment. Where is Thomas?"
"Drunk in his bed. He and the gardener got a bit carried away during their game of whist last night."
"Ah. I shall see to the door then. Wouldn't mind giving him a bit of a start, actually," she said, throwing her morning gown on over her shoulders.
"Bloody hell, I'm coming!" she said, hurrying to the door when the pounding increased. "What on earth do you want, Commodore?" she asked, yawning as she pulled it open.
Norrington's hand had ceased in mid knock, and was now just hanging there limply. "Why do I always manage to catch you in some various state of undress at your home? Anyway, I came because I wanted to know how you managed to switch all the ribbons on my wig!"
"Simple. I untied them."
"Miss Tuttle, you know very well that that is not what I am talking about. Please tell me, and no lies!"
"Very well," she shrugged. "I slipped in over the gate, hid in the bushes, and watched the windows to see which room was yours. Then, I picked the lock, hid in the grandfather clock when a maid came down the hall, snuck up the stairs, hid under the bed while you were in the water closet, shut my eyes to prevent them from shrivelling up into useless bits of whatnot when you dressed for bed, waited until you were asleep, then snuck out and made the wigs look pretty. I then left the same way I came, laughing my bum off at you the entire time. Savvy?" she added in at the end, unable to resist.
"I said no lies," he said, looking slightly stunned.
"Would I lie to you? You know I am notoriously bad at it, first of all. Second of all, how could I pull a story like that out of my bum first thing in the morning?"
"You actually…" Norrington trailed off, looking like someone had hit him in the face with a shovel.
"Yes. Why are you acting so surprised? You know perfectly well what I'm capable of. Never ever underestimate a woman, especially when she's determined."
"Can….can I have my ribbons back please?"
"Well…since you said please…no."
"Tha-what?! I asked nicely this time, too! Give them back, or I shall have you tossed into gaol for breaking and entering."
"You wouldn't!" she scoffed.
"He would, and he did," she mumbled to herself, as he shut the cell door and handed the key ring over to the dog.
"Have fun, my dear Miss Tuttle!" he smirked, the pink ribbon died black with ink and now devoid of any lace it previously had, thanks to Gillette's quick thinking.
"You will pay for this!" she bellowed at his retreating back. His only response was a laugh, and then the door shut. Catherine glanced over to her right, where there was a group of men leering through the bars at her, making lewd comments and other things men do.
"Oh go to blazes, the lot of you!" she barked, huffing and moving over to the far corner.
As she pondered different ways of getting herself out of the cell, her face suddenly lit up with quite the devious grin, which made even the men in the adjoining one retreat a bit, their comments halted for the time being.
Norrington brought her a book to read along with a tray of food at lunch time and lingered for a bit, watching as she hungrily devoured the words, completely forgetting about the food until he said, "Miss Tuttle? Aren't you going to eat what's on the tray instead of what's in the book?"
"Hm? Oh, right. The tray…hold on, just give me a chapter…I never knew that naval history could be so riveting! Oh, I love the description of this battle!"
"Miss Tuttle, do not make me regret giving you the book. Please eat."
"Fine…men…" she huffed, taking a bite of the bread and returning to the book.
"What battle are they recounting first?" he asked.
"It's talking about how the English went against the Dutch near Jakarta. Absolutely riveting."
"Yes, I do believe you've already said that. I shall take my leave of you now, and I expect to see that entire tray cleared by the time I get back."
Catherine nodded, her eyes racing across the page. When he left, she pushed the tray towards the men with her foot and said, "Here, you eat this. I'm too busy right now."
They took no more encouraging, and within minutes, every scrap of food had disappeared.
Norrington raised a brow when he came back twenty minutes later, but otherwise said not a word.
Catherine flipped through several more pages, then got up and stretched. Moving over to the window, she gazed out at the port, watching several ships come and go. She could have sworn she had seen one with black sails off in the distance, but wasn't sure, since her eyesight wasn't the best by all means.
Norrington was bringing down her dinner, whistling a tune to himself, when he passed Groves.
"Ah, Commodore! And how is our guest, this eve?' he grinned, laughing a bit.
"I am on my way down to see to her at this very moment, Theo. I bet you anything she's finished that book."
"You gave her something to read? Which one?"
"The book on naval battles during the seventeenth century."
"That one? I'm shocked. Did she seem to enjoy it?" Groves asked, genuinely curious.
"Enjoy it? I couldn't get her to stop reading long enough to take a bite of anything on the tray!" Norrington said.
There was a slight commotion from up ahead, and the smell of burning hair wafted through the corridor.
"Gillette has managed to set fire to his wig again, I bet you a month's wages," Groves sighed. "I'll take care of it, James. You just go and see to your lady love."
"She is not my lady love! I can hardly stand the sight of her!" he scoffed.
"Whatever you say, James…" Groves said, moving off to the storage closet the curses and thumps were issuing from.
Norrington sighed, then continued on down the hall to the stairs leading down into the gaol. He was a bit taken aback when he saw her apparently asleep in the corner.
"Miss Tuttle? Are you awake?" he asked. He was rewarded with a deep sigh, and the sight of her rolling over onto her side, her back facing the door. Rolling his eyes, he unlocked it, leaving the key in, and entered, placing the tray in the opposite corner, but well away from the reaching hands of the men in the adjoining cell. Leaning over her, he reached out a hand to shake her shoulder.
"Miss Tuttle, I have your dinner. If you would be so kind as to wake up..." Norrington was cut off by her leaping up and racing out the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind her.
"Farewell, good Commodore!" she crowed, dashing up the steps, her morning gown whipping out of sight.
All he could do was stare in shock, his mouth hanging open.
When Gillette went down(without a wig) to release Catherine at the end of the work day, he was instead met with the sight of a fuming Norrington, sitting in the corner of the cell.
"James? Dare I ask?"
"NO," Norrington said vehemently.
"Alright then, I won't."
"Good," he said tersely.
"So…erm…how exactly…"
"Gillette, I do believe I told you to not ask," Norrington growled.
"Mea culpa, James," he said.
Norrinton just huffed.
Well, I hope you liked this one! I'm working on the next chapter, and I hope to have it out soon. As for Red and White Roses...I'm working on it. ^_^ Read and review! Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?! *insert puppy dog eyes here*