As The Speedwell docked into the small makeshift harbour, Jeanne could hear the men before she saw them. The loud clapping and cheering made her stomach drop. No wonder it was doing for the women below who were preparing their belongings. She hadn't moved as women began to walk past her, fearful looks on their faces. Jeanne grasped at her skirt, trying to calm her nerves. Under her aunt's orders, Jeanne wore a garment fitting her uncle's station, her station as the governor's niece. A mix of blue silk and cotton, cut in style suitable for a young unwed woman to gain the attention of profitable suitors.
"You look so fancy." Alice came up beside her, heavy bags in either hand.
Jeanne sighed, offering a weak smile. "Thanks, it was requested by Temperance." Alice could hear the bite in her friend's words. The pair turned their gaze down to the harbour, watching the women meet with a bookkeeper, who would call out the woman's betrothed, assigning them off. It was unsettling to watch. But would it be easier to marry a man of the lower class than a noble? Jeanne wasn't sure, only that marrying outside of love would be the most challenging choice.
"Should I go down there?" Alice spoke, her voice trembling from fear. Jeanne reached for one of her bags, quickly pulling it from the woman's hands. Jeanne edged Alice down the gangplank towards the bookkeeper with her free hand. Alice tried to keep her eyes off the gathered men, knowing that it would only increase her jitters. She was glad for Jeanne's warm hand on her back, a comfort she didn't think she needed. "Alice Kett." She spoke her name with enough confidence as she could manage.
The bookkeeper, a man dressed in more finery than any commoner as an educated man, glanced over the hefty tome in front of him, his quill hovering over the page until he found Alice's name and the name adjoined to it. "Henry Sharrow!" He called out to the crowd, crossing off the names as he did.
Alice and Jeanne turned to the crowd, spotting two young men who had raised their hands in response to the bookkeeper, the eldest of the two catching Alice's attention. He was a tall, thin man with a mess of black curls and scruff that only made him look more handsome. "Henry…" Her voice came out as a whisper as she found herself drawn to the man, the feel of Jeanne's hand on her back forgotten.
The man looked between the two girls, eyes sweeping over both girls' dresses before settling on the brunette. "Alice?" He questioned, sure that she was the one. He smiled when she nodded. "I'm Silas. I'm to take you to my brother." His statement almost made Alice's smile falter, but she forced herself to keep herself from frowning. Silas' eyes then moved to Jeanne. "And you are, miss?" His dark orbs once again took in her finery—a noble lady.
Her hand rubbed harder against Alice's back, knowing her friend's disappointment from the lessening smile and slump of her shoulders. Jeanne gave a curt smile to Silas, knowing that the man was pre-judging her. "Jeanne Gardner, I'm your new Governor's niece." She gave the man a quick curtsy, playing into the nobility role. The two men stiffened. The discomfort in their eyes gave the woman a sense of glee. She offered the bag in her hand to the men. The youngest of the pair, Pepper Sharrow, took it while avoiding her eyes and introducing himself meekly. Jeanne found the boy sweet. He was almost as thin and tall as Silas, but his clean face showed his innocence. And then there was the way he smiled, big and wide. Jeanne had a feeling she was going to like the boy. "I best get back to the ship. I need to meet my uncle and aunt when they plan to make their grand entrance down the gangplank." She explained to Alice, giving the woman a tight hug. "Find me if you ever need me, even if it's to hide a body." She whispered in Alice's ear, Alice laughing in response. Jeanne watched Alice leave with the two Sharrow men before returning to The Speedwell, passing Verity as she went.
The Irish woman was annoyed. "He didn't bloody show-up." Verity spat to Jeanne, stomping away from the bookkeeper into town. Whomever Verity's husband-to-be was, there would be hell to pay when Verity did eventually meet up with the idiotic man. If anyone could kill a man, it would, without a doubt, be Verity who could do it. The small woman had a fire in her to match her hair.
Jocelyn Woodbryg came out from below the deck as Jeanne reboarded the ship. The blonde had dolled herself up, adorned from head to toe in the finest golden silk and embroidered lace bodice, her deep blue silk cape hanging up her shoulders like a waterfall and her well-made hat sitting upon her perfect blonde curls. Jeanne envied just how well exquisiteness just oozed off the woman. She strutted down the gangplank into the welcoming arms of her betrothed, Samuel Castell, the acting recorder of Jamestown in charge of accounts and bookkeeping and his maidservant. Samuel was a handsome man and kind; Jeanne had met him briefly in London a year ago. She knew him as trustworthy.
"Having fun?" George Yeardley appeared behind his niece, breaking her from her thoughts. His wife stood behind him. The pair of them were dressed in mixtures of gold and black, a sword hanging from George Yeardley's hip. "The sailors have been instructed to bring our belongings to our home." He explained, pulling his niece along by a hand on her lower back, his wife's right held tightly in his left as he led both women down the gangplank.
"I saw off Alice." Jeanne smiled. "Verity too, in a way, her betrothed never showed up."
George's mouth curled upwards, a response on the tip of his tongue as a gruff voice called out to him, welcoming him to Jamestown as the new governor. The three of them looked to the two men awaiting them, and both bowed in greeting. The one who spoke was the larger of the pair, dressed in all black. Beside him, the other man was more colourful, his bright blue tunic embellished with gold thread and metal, a well-groomed beard and a stylish hat. They both had swords.
"And to your recent knighthood." The colourful spoke.
George Yeardley sighed, not stopping to acknowledge them as he continued leading his wife towards Jamestown. "I'm sure you will understand, gentlemen, after such a taxing voyage if I escort my wife home to rest and recuperate before we begin the difficult business of governance." He let his hand slip from Jeanne's back, a signal she knew to stop before the two gentlemen, whose gazes continued to follow their governor as he passed them. "But please do meet my niece!" He called back.
"Niece?" The colourful one spoke, his voice full of confusion. He glanced back at the young woman walking with the Yeardleys, who stood before them. The men shared a look, unsure of what to make of the situation. Jeanne decided to make the first move.
"I'm Jeanne Gardner, Governor Yeardley's niece. "Greetings, gentlemen," She curtseyed before them, glad for her aunt's etiquette lessons. They stared at her, the colourful one with curiosity, while the fierce one was evident with his annoyance.
"Uhh…forgive us both, we were not informed of any niece that would be joining our new governor." The colourful one spoke before introducing himself. "I'm Nicholas Farlow. I serve as Secretary." He bowed to her before gesturing to the man on his left. "And my cold fellow here is Marshall Thomas Redwick. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady Gardner."
Jeanne shook her head, a smile gracing her delicate features. "Just Jeanne, please. I am no lady of the English court."
"Very well, Jeanne." Farlow smiled, "Shall we walk you to town?" he offered, extending his arm for her to take. Before she could respond to his request, the Marshall groaned loudly, not caring for what either of them thought of his actions as he stomped off, his stance threatening to those around him that moved fast out of the man's way.
"Cold one indeed." Jeanne snipped, a single eyebrow raised at the man retreating back.
"Yes," Farlow started, his arm still extended. "He's not much a people person."
"Clearly." Jeanne scoffed, placing a hand on the Secretary's arm. "And I won't be honoured to accept your request." The pair shared a smile as Farlow guided her up the narrow dirt road to Jamestown, the lower-class workers of the Virginia Company passing them as they took a brisk pace. It had taken only a moment for Marshall Redwick to make his ill intentions known, and for Secretary Farlow, he was more cunning, playing himself off as a charming man.
"So tell me, dear, your name and accent, you're from Scotland, no?" Farlow questioned, his tone of voice coming off carefree.
Jeanne nodded. "Aye. My father was a Highlander, and my mother eloped with him after my grandfather tried to force her to wed some English Lord. She was my uncle's younger sister."
Farlow gave her a sideways glance. "My, the humiliation your grandfather must have faced from the court. And how did you come to be in London to join your uncle here?"
Jeanne took a moment to think. The pompous man was searching for answers to her being, but why she didn't know just yet? She casually took in the fields surrounding them as she walked. "My uncle had no ill towards my bother for what happened, and when my father passed not long before I became a maid, my mother had no option but to return to London. She passed not long after, broken heart, I'm afraid."
"And with no family left, you joined your uncle here," Farlow spoke aloud as if he was finishing her sentence for her. He had thought her uncle would have just married her off inside of bringing her halfway across the world, but he was guessing that the Governor had other plans in mind for his niece. When they approached the gates of Jamestown, Jeanne peeked her head inside, taking a look. "It's not quite like London, I'm afraid," Farlow spoke bitterly, wishing to rather be there than here. Jamestown's streets were nothing more than muddy roads, littered with swine droppings and other farm animals that wandered around loose. The houses were made of crude stone and wood. There were even men butchering animals in the streets without a care. Farlow's face formed a tight scowl, clearly not pleased with the sight.
Jeanne chuckled. "It reminds me of the childhood village in Scotland." Her life in Scotland had been simple. Compared to the homes in her village, hers had been more modest. Her father would spend his days hunting, and her mother attended to the garden in her front yard, where a range of vegetables would grow. Jeanne had never known what luxury was until her mother had brought her to London, where she saw the great divide between the wealthy and the poor. "I must thank you for the walk, Lord Farlow, but I think I might see for myself what Jamestown has to show me."
"And I must thank you for the company, Jeanne." Secretary Farlow bowed to her. "But do be careful. This land contains many dangers, from nature to the native savages." He didn't seem to speak with any malice towards the natives of this New World, which Jeanne had found interesting. Yet most of all, he was genuinely trying to warn her. Farlow trusted her, it seemed. Was it because she was open and honest with him? or did he just see her as a meek woman needing protection?
Jeanne curtsied goodbye before heading off on her own, trying to avoid stepping on the muddiest spots on the road while feeling Secretary Farlow's eyes watching her go, studying her. Jeanne had liked Jamestown and wanted to see what lay outside its walls. She knew she could easily make it home here.
The sun was beginning to set when Jeanne finally made her way to the Yeardley residence, which was located not far from the church, which also acted as the town hall. She had spent the day outside the walls of Jamestown, exploring the local farms and fields growing crops and tobacco, stopping at the tavern on her way home to check on Verity. The poor Irish woman was still without her future husband, not knowing where he was, and when she asked any of the local men, they would simply laugh at her. Verity's betrothed was Meredith Rutter, and he served as a brewer and barkeep for the men of Jamestown. Jeanne had joked that Verity had access to all the ale she could ever want, but it did nothing to appease her fellow redhead.
As she walked over the threshold of her new home, she found her aunt inside the main room, which served as a parlour, kitchen and dining room. Temperance sat at an old, worn, rough table, bible once again in her hands, only glancing up when she heard her niece enter. She closed her book gently, taking care to place it on the table before you like a precious gemstone.
"Thank goodness you're home. Any longer, and I would've had your uncle arrange a search party." The older woman lectured, rising to greet her niece in a hug.
Jeanne sighed. "I was only walking about town, familiarising myself. I didn't run off into the forest or anything queer like that."
"Good." Temperance pulled away from her embrace but kept her arms around the young woman as she began to direct her to a door beside the hearth. "Now, it is small and originally a storage room, but I'm sure you will come to find it homely in time." Opening the door, she pushed her niece into the room.
Jeanne did her best to observe the space as she felt her aunt's eye boring into her. It was small indeed. The cot that was to serve as the bed was shoved into the far corner, a small table beside it with a simple lantern in case she needed to venture off during the night. Under the sole window that faced the street was a dresser. When Jeanne opened it, she discovered that her aunt had already packed away her belongings. She reached out to touch a dress that had been neatly stored away. "It will be homely enough for me, thank, aunt." Jeanne faced Temperance, smile in place.
"Well, pray you won't be here long, you're of age, and there are many available men here in Jamestown. Rumours of you on Secretary Farlow's arm are already circling." Temperance spoke, eyes glazing over as she envisioned her niece's wedding.
"Now, my love, I'm sure he was just being gentlemanly." George Yeardley interrupted, appearing behind his wife. He had dressed down from his finery from early, now only in a simple linen shirt and woollen pants. "And besides, any man who wishes to marry Jeanne has to go through me."
"Do you wish for a repeat of my mother?" Jeanne jabbed, eying the couple.
"No." Her uncle laughed at the remark, snickering. "No, I do not. I decree that my first act as Governor that you may marry whomever man you want."
Temperance looked at her husband in shock. "She is a child! She must wed someone well-fitting and proper."
George simply took his wife's hand in his, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss the skin in a calming gesture. As much as he loved his wife, he also loved his niece, and to see them both happy would be a battle that would never end in a truce. "She will marry for love, just as I have." Temperance had smiled at that statement, having had her heart melted. "And Jeanne," He looked from his wife to his niece. "If for some reason you have to go out after dark, be wise, for the men in Jamestown may not treat you too kindly when they think you alone." The Governor's words held. Jeanne had heard many stories during her time back home, both in Scotland and England, of how men could be controlled by their desires, desires that led to the rape of women. Temperance gave her a sad look, fearing what ill fate could face her niece.
"I'll be fine." Jeanne laughed, causing her aunt and uncle to share a glance before staring back at Jeanne as she lifted her skirt, showing the older couple the steel blade strapped securely to the top of her stockings. "If one does try anything, I'll cut him."
"By the heavens!" Temperance screeched, feeling herself about ready to pass out. George Yeardley merely smiled at his niece. She was, without a doubt, the blood of his little sister.
It was early morning when Jeanne awoke, the sounds of men labouring in the streets loud outside her window. She had fought herself over getting up, knowing full well that she needed to. Her uncle had planned a town meeting today to introduce himself as Governor of Jamestown and make an announcement. There was a dull aching within her gut, a feeling she usually got when something terrible was about to happen. And she knew it wasn't hunger. Her father had always told her to trust her gut. The Scots were a superstitious bunch.
Jeanne had retrieved one of her finer gowns from the dresser, an embroidered green one, another one of the dresses her aunt had made for her before their departure. Taking the time to fastened herself into the fabric. Her gaze travelled back to the dresser, the top drawer still open. She spotted the pile of neatly folded fabric that had been under her dress, her family tartan. Her father had presented it to her for her tenth birthday, and still, to this day, it was her most cherished possession. So cherished she never wore it. It was a piece of her father, her Highlands, her home.
"Awake, I see."
Jeanne was pulled from her thoughts, slamming the draw shut as she turned to face her uncle. George Yeardley had a knowing look on his face.
"I miss the both of them too." He stepped closer to her, pulling Jeanne in for a warm embrace. She found the sentiment odd, as her uncle barely even knew her father. "Come and eat quickly. The faster I can get the meeting over and done with, the better." George sighed, leading his niece into the main parlour, where Temperance ate a meal of porridge, bread and cheese.
The three of them ate without any words, but Jeanne took in her uncle and aunt's appearance. Both were dressed so finely to show off their new ranks and titles to the town at the meeting, just as it was expected of her. She was the Governor's niece. She had a reputation and status to uphold amongst the men and women of the town. In all fairness, Jeanne would have preferred the garments of Alice and Verity, as she was nothing more than a simple Highlander farm girl and always would be.
Jeanne tidied up the living quarters as her aunt helped her uncle into his blue doublet. "I might walk around the town while I await the gathering bell." She didn't wait for a response as she rushed outside, seeking Verity to see if her husband had finally appeared. Jeanne found her friend in the tavern, lying on her back on one of the large tables.
"No, no husband yet!" Verity bit, sitting up to face Jeanne when she had greeted her. "Oh, such a man he must be to flee before I even set my feet on land!"
Jeanne sighed. "You don't know that he could be…" She was interrupted by yelling from the town square. Angry yelling. "That's not to do with the meeting." She muttered as she and Verity shared a glance before heading outside, watching as Marshal Redwick strutted outside at town hall around a man, an unknown gentleman.
"Meredith Rutter." Redwick spat. The name caused the two women to share another look, Verity with a mixture of fear and disgust on her face, as her missing groom finally appeared. "You are charged with slandering the Company, lewdness, and drunkenness." Redwick looked to the townspeople that circled, happy with the spectacle, before returning to the tavern owner. "You are a reprobate."
"And you, sir," Rutter started. "Are as fair and honest as any Virginia Company man." He beamed, clearly not a god-fearing man, as his words gained laughter from the town. Rutter was enjoying himself.
"You're drunk now, are you not, Rutter?" Redwick's anger was beginning to bubble.
Rutter belched loudly in response, gaining more laughter from the people surrounding him. Verity turned around, leaning into Jeanne's shoulder as she continued to watch, ashamed. "Sir Marshal Redwick, sir, I tried to be sober. I didn't like it." Rutter explained, bored of the situation.
Redwick's anger had reached its peak as the town continued to laugh. "You would stand here and mock this hearing? Huh?" The old soldier didn't wait for an answer before signalling to two of his men. "Then I'll have you nailed by your ear to the post for the remainder of the day!" Redwick mock laughed at Rutter as the man was grabbed from behind and his head forced to a post. "Our newly arrived, newly knighted Governor, Sir George Yeardley, wishes to address us all." Redwick mustered the townsfolk towards the town hall, grateful to be moving their attention off the drunken idiot that was Meredith Rutter. Jeanne kept Verity looking away as she watched Rutter fight against the guards, but his drunken state wasn't enough to stop them. She winced as one of the men hammered the thick nail into the point of his ear.
"Well," Jeanne sighed as it was over, letting go of her friend. "We found your husband."
"A drunk." Verity sobbed, stomping towards the town hall like a toddler throwing a tantrum, Jeanne doing her best not to laugh at her friend's actions and her foul misfortune.
Jeanne made her way to the front of the crowd, standing with her aunt as her uncle stood at a hard wooden table upon a raised stage to oversee the town. To his left stood Secretary Farlow, who shared a brief smile and nodded towards Jeanne, an action that didn't go unnoticed by both her aunt and uncle. Marshal Redwick took his place at George Yeardley's right. Once everyone, except the drunk Mr Rutter, whose fits of pain could still be heard from outside, had gathered in the hall, the meeting began. Jeanne smiled up at her uncle proudly as he spoke to the people of Jamestown, for none of them would ever be Englishmen again, as this New World was now their home, and with young maids to become their wives, children would soon follow, and Jamestown would flourish into a shining example to the rest of the world to what could be built upon these distant shores if one had a dream and a working spirit. Then, her uncle spoke words that would ripple this town, for good and bad. He rewarded the original settlers with land, each man receiving one hundred acres. While the townsfolk erupted into applause around her, Jeanne watched how the Marshal and Secretary seemed displeased by such news. Jeanne would have to speak to her uncle about that later.
Once, only Jeanne and her uncle remained in the town hall. She approached him where he still sat at the middle of the table, ready to inform him of her thoughts on what she had observed. The looks of the Secretary and the Marshall still burned in the back of her mind. There was also the face of the balding man she had spotted in the crowd, how he had glowered at her uncle with a face as red as a hot iron.
George Yeardley breathed deeply, rubbing at the course hairs on his chin as he eyed the paperwork before him. "They cannot be trusted."
"Aye." Jeanne agreed. "Farlow was poking me for information when we arrived."
"And did you give it to him?" He glanced at his niece, a cunning look in his eyes. He smiled when she nodded. "Good, he seems to favour you, something hard to gain from the man. Watch and listen. I need your support to ensure no one gets in my way."
Jeanne smiled. So this has been the reason for her uncle bringing her with him. She was to act as a spy against those on the council that served the Virginia Company. Marshal Redwick had already easily dismissed her, while the cunning Secretary Farlow assumed he was playing her. She could manipulate him if she allowed him to think she was eating out of his hand. "For the best of the town, I shall."
For Jamestown, she would, indeed.