Chapter 21 – Truth Be Told

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"Jack!"

"Scarlett!"

"Jack!"

"Giselle?"

"What are you doing here?" the three of them said in unison.

To Jack's surprise, there they sat, pretty as you please, the two women he'd been bloody searching for all day. And, from the looks of the Griselle's great cabin – petticoats and chemises thrown hither and yon; brushes, pots of rouge, and other ladies' accruements crowding every available surface – he'd wager they'd been there for some time. A long time.

Scowling, Jack leaned casually against the door frame and hooked his thumbs in his belts. "Fancy meeting you ladies here. Appears that Thomas has decided to forgo with his usual cabin boy. Or did you two ladies decide to keep him around as a pet?" Jack's tone was biting, and it pleased him to see the women wince. An unexplainable anger burned at the back of his throat.

Seems t' be the way it always ends up, with Thomas stealin' away any piece of skirt I take a fancy to. Easy to see these two have been enjoying his company, no doubt – for free! Serves him bloody right, if they give him the pox.

"Jack," Scarlett protested. "You've no right to come here and speak like that."

Jack bristled, and stalked into the room. "No right? NO right? Since when does a strumpet such as yourself tell me how I ought t' be speaking?"

"Why I never!" Scarlett blushed red and bristled right back. "Who do you think you are, Jack Sparrow? Think you're the only man in this godforsaken town?"

"Jack! Letty!" Giselle interrupted. "Please?!"

Jack whirled on her. "I suppose you're enjoying your stay with the Captain as well? What'd he pay the two of you to get such exclusive privileges?"

"Nothing," a deep voice said from the doorway. Thomas took several long strides into the room, Pierre mincing behind. "They are here strictly as my guests, no strings attached."

Jack snorted as he raised his hands in mock surprise. "Oh, are they? What a magnanimous and charitable gesture of yours, Thomas. Taken to adopting whores now, have you?"

There was always that minute warning, just before Thomas threw a punch. There was none this time. Thomas' fist crashed into Jack's jaw, sending his sprawling. His last thought, before the dots crowding his eyes congealed to solid blackness, was how nice it was to see old friends once again.

****

"Jack?" Her voice sounded far away, as if angels were singing. That is, until the other voice chimed in.

"Mon Capitaine! Mon Dieu! You have killed him!"

Nope, not heaven. Definitely not. More like hell on earth. Jack tentatively opened one eye and took in the blurry image of Giselle's concerned face peering down at him. He opened the other to find Pierre hovering over her shoulder, wringing his hands in dismay.

"Capitaine Thomas! You should not have…" Pierre squeaked, fluttering in front of Thomas like an enraged moth.

"Damn right I should have." Thomas interrupted with a growl. "From what I've heard, Jack here deserves more than a punch in the nose."

"What'da I do?" Jack groused, struggling to sit up on the Turkish rug.

"Why didn't you help Giselle, like you said you would?" Thomas demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Jack. "If you had, perhaps none of this would have happened."

"None of what?" Jack looked around, shaking his head to clear the lingering fog. "Seems more like a favor I've done you, if you ask me."

Standing directly over Jack, Thomas straightened to impose his full height. "She could have died."

"From what?" Jack stood up and swayed, irritably brushing off the flutter of Pierre's hands. "From the looks of things, I'd say she has it made quite nicely."

Giselle placed a hand on Jack's sleeve. "He saved my life, you know."

"No, I don't know," Jack retorted. "All I know is I came expecting to find a friend and instead got a fist in me face."

"Well, it happened just after I came to ask you fer help with the rent," Giselle started to explain.

"You went to Jack for help?!" Now it was Scarlett's turn to interrupt, turning livid. "How could you have? After the way he'd acted?"

"I was just trying to help, Letty." Giselle looked near to tears, causing Jack to wonder if he oughtn't to just leave, before things went from bad to worse.

"Lucky Captain Thomas happened to be in port," Scarlett continued, her anger boiling over. "It takes a true gentleman to care for others without putting himself first."

"Hold up there!" Jack wagged a finger at Scarlett. "I did try to help, and you told me to bugger off."

"I was trying to earn money for the rent, and could have, if you hadn't dragged me off," Scarlett said. "Thanks to you, we lost our room and Giselle almost died!"

"Now wait a bloody buggering minute!" Jack countered, narrowing one eye. "You can't go blaming whatever happened to Giselle on me. I wasn't even in port."

"Exactly!" Scarlett shouted. "You were off doing what you do best: worrying about yourself."

"Who the hell else is there to worry about?" Jack said, swinging an arm toward the room. "I never promised anything to you or to anyone else." He threw up his hands in disgust. "For god's sake woman! I was willing t' pay my way and you threw me out!"

Thomas, who'd been remarkably quiet through the whole exchange, stepped in. Wrapping an arm around the now sobbing Scarlett, he turned to Jack. "Listen, whatever happened before is over and done with. No use upsetting the lady anymore."

"Lady," Jack muttered to himself, cramming his hat on his head and heading for the door. "More like a banshee, if you ask me." He turned at the door. "Sorry to have disturbed you. I won't be bothering any of you again." With a satisfied jerk of his head, he whirled and stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

****

"Jack, wait!" Giselle called plaintively after him.

"Let him go," Thomas said in a gentler voice. "He'll get over it, once he cools off."

"No, I need to talk to him." Giselle said as she hurried after Jack. "I won't be long."

Giselle caught Jack halfway down the dock. "Jack, wait. Please?" she implored, grabbing his coat sleeve.

Jack brushed her off impatiently, and continued to stride towards town. Giselle doggedly followed, determined to explain matters.

They had reached the Faithful Bride's doors before he finally turned around. "Go away!" he barked, with a shooing motion. "Go back to Gentleman Thomas. I'm sure he's vastly better company."

"No, I want to talk to you," Giselle said stubbornly. "I want to explain."

"Explain what?" Jack's eyes were wide as he swiped the air in exasperation. "Explain how, somehow, I am now bloody well responsible for whatever bloody well happens in this pestilent town?"

Giselle knew him well enough to know how to appease his ruffled feelings. Patient and persistent, she tucked her arm in his. "Of course you're not responsible, Jack. You had no way of knowin' them brutes would do what they did t' me."

"What brutes?" Jack paused and looked down at her, his face softening slightly. "What exactly did happen?"

"It's a rather long story," Giselle said with a small smile. "And I don't exactly remember it all. Letty says that's a good thing." She frowned slightly, dodging a drunken patron as he was tossed out the tavern door. "Haven't actually talked about t' no one."

Jack patted her hand and tucked her arm closer. He gestured with his head towards the Bride. "Would you rather go someplace more quiet-like and tell me about it?"

Giselle nodded, swallowing hard. She had thought she was ready to face the town, but the raucous voices of the drunken men, and melee in the streets and crowded tavern, things that had excited her before, now caused her to startle and shiver in the darkening night, seeing menace and fright in every shadow.

Seeing her fear, Jack smiled, his usual charming self once more. "No worries, luv. We'll go back to the Pearl, no one to frighten you there."

Giselle smiled in relief, and clung tighter to Jack.

Scarlett is just wrong, she thought. Jack is just Jack, but he never meant any harm to come to them. Giselle was determined to prove her roommate wrong this time.

****

"The brute!" Scarlett sobbed, her face buried in Thomas' shirt. "He does this to torture me, I just know it."

Thomas shook his head. It seemed no matter where they met up, Jack Sparrow and he were destined to be at odds, butting heads over the same woman. And, per the usual, it revolved around a whore. Most times though, it was a matter of who saw her first, or would pay more, or at all. This time, there was something deeper, a more disturbing development. As he held the sobbing woman, he felt her to be more than just a common whore. Underneath the powder and rouge, Thomas saw a fine lady, one with integrity and worth. That fact was all the more reason to see that she found another way to make a living.

Thomas patted Scarlett on the shoulders and told her to wait, then went out on deck to seek out the French dressmaker. He found Pierre, sulking by the sea ladder, an air of melancholy about him.

"Not the best first impression, I must admit," Thomas said, good-naturedly. "I will vouch for the ladies, they are usually much calmer."

Pierre looked up briefly, then went back to studying the water along the quay. He shrugged one shoulder. "Les jeunes filles, they are most admirable," he said sorrowfully. "I am confident I can find them a position in my shop."

"Wonderful! So, why the long face, Pierre?" Thomas slapped him cheerfully on the shoulder. "You've a bright future ahead of you. You should be off enjoying the town and what it has to offer."

Pierre sighed. "Alas, I am not interested in, what is you English call it? The sporting life?" He shook his head. "No, I am more of the retiring type, a good book, a fine wine, makes me most content."

Thomas bit his lip to keep from laughing at the sad little Frenchman. "I am sure you will fit in perfectly; Tortuga is a fine mix of all sorts. Many French as well. You'll see."

Pierre just sighed again. "Perhaps I should go now, Monsieur Thomas. I will need to find some lodgings before the night grows too late."

"What'd Jack do? Kick you off the Pearl?" Thomas burst out, before he could help himself.

"The man, he is a brute!" Pierre stomped his foot. "He does not deserve someone as refined and civilized as myself. I have wasted my talents. Pah!"

Thomas put his arm around the smaller man's shoulder and gave him a friendly nudge towards the gangplank. "You're a smart man, Pierre. You will no doubt go far." He patted Pierre's shoulder. "You might try Garrett's Boarding House, on Waping Road. I hear they are discriminating with their guests and have an excellent cook.

"Merci, mon ami. I shall do that." Pierre gave Thomas a quick bow, clicking his heels together. "Please tell your lovely lady friend, I shall be honored to have her as my assistant, once I have set up shop." He bowed once more, then left the ship with a jaunty step.

Thomas watched him for a moment, then went back to the cabin to tell Scarlett the news. Perhaps this might be the break she'd been waiting for in her difficult life.

****

"So what happened after that?"

Jack and Giselle were sharing a bottle of rum in the Black Pearl's great cabin, while she tried to explain the events of the past weeks.

"Well, after Mr. Beasley told us we'd have to leave, Scarlett went to find a position in one of them specialty houses up in the hills." Giselle smiled and handed the bottle to Jack. "You know the ones: they only take the prettiest girls, and don't just let anyone in the door."

Jack shrugged. "Never had any trouble finding the prettiest girls right there in the Bride." He flashed a grin at her and was pleased to see the red in her cheeks. "So where did you go?"

Giselle giggled. "To the Bride."

"See? What did I say?" Jack raised a hand and waved it about. "Don't need no snobbish Madame tellin' you who you can and cannot entertain."

Suddenly, Giselle became serious, tears welling in her eyes. "Might have been safer, though," she said, her voice tightening.

Jack paused, bottle halfway to his mouth. Setting it down carefully, he said as gently as he could, "You don't have to talk about it, if you'd rather not."

Giselle shook her head vehemently. "No, I need to. I need to talk to someone, it is making me crazy."

Jack had never seen her look so lost and forlorn. Whatever had happened, it had taken the sparkle out her eye, her usual gaiety gone. He patted his knee. "Come here," he said gently.

Giselle wiped her eyes and sniffed, but did as he asked and settled herself gingerly on his lap.

Jack could feel the tension in her slim body, and made soothing noises, rubbing her back lightly. Giselle relaxed under his touch, the rum doing its part as well. She took several deep breaths, and then began.

"It was late one night. Business had been slow all week, and I didn't have a room t' go to. I thought I'd try to find one more customer, perhaps be able t' afford a room, instead of sleeping in the stable."

Jack nodded, not wanting to stem the flow of words. He handed her the bottle and waited until she'd take a few sips before nudging her on.

"There were three of 'em," Giselle continued, in a bare whisper. "They seemed friendly enough, at first. But then the blonde feller, he pulled a knife and forced me t' go with them." She stopped, shuddering and gulping.

Jack waited, his gut clenched in anticipation of what he was sure would follow. He knew the type, and knew the damage they could wrought to those they singled out for their sport.

"It was awful, Jack!" Giselle sobbed, holding a hand to her mouth in anguish. "I tried t' do just as they said, but they still, still…"

"Shhh," Jack wrapped his arms around Giselle as she buried her face in his shirt, her thin shoulders trembling as she released all that had been bottled up inside.

It shouldn't have happened. As much as he knew it was a risk of the trade, Jack could not stomach the cowardly act of violence towards the whores. And of all the two-bit whores out there, to have sweet, naïve Giselle suffer at the hands of such brutes was intolerable. He made a silent vow that he'd have his revenge, if he ever set eyes on the bastards.

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