It was the following morning, after the celebrations, that Henry Sharrow had come strutting into Jamestown with his youngest brother Pepper beside him. The man was grinning like a cat who'd caught a fat mouse, and Jeanne suspected it had something to do with the overly stuffed bag over his shoulder, which he kept a firm hand on. Jeanne remembered that Henry Sharrow had gone up high in the mountains, and with the map her uncle was coveting like some holy object, Jeanne would be a fool not to consider that Henry had discovered gold.
The entire town had gathered to see what the man had, following Henry and Pepper into the town hall like a swarm of hungry insects. Inside, the council was already gathered, waiting eagerly to see what the man had brought before them. Jeanne had moved off to the side, watching Henry like a hawk in the shadows as he dumped his bag down at his feet.
"Silver." The moment the words left his mouth, the townsfolk began to murmur behind him, excitement running through their veins at the thought of the riches that could be theirs in Henry Sharrow was correct. "there's plenty more where I found that." He gestured down to his bag.
"This colony was taken in the name of our monarch," Redwick spoke, his tone flat yet showing a hint of the distaste he held for eldest Sharrow. "What riches are found here belong to the crown," Jeanne smirked, thrilled that the Marshall was trying to kick the raping bastard down a peg. Her eyes turned to take in the three men who sat at the table before Henry. All three of them were staring Henry down but in their own way. Redwick's gaze held discontent; Farlow appeared to be holding back a seething glare, and Yeardley. Jeanne had never seen her uncle so ridged. He was sitting straight, his hands clasped on the table and his jaw tense. If there hadn't been a room full of witnesses, the Governor would have forgotten his position and reached ahead to grip tightly around Henry Sharrow's throat until not a gasp of air could escape.
"Well, let the king go to the far-off mountains and dig it up for himself, and he can discover it." Henry retorted, earning some laughs from the townsfolk, even earning an indecent joke from Rutter, which made the men laugh harder.
Jeanne frowned. "You speak ill of our King?" Her voice boomed over the crowd, silencing them all. "We may be far from England, but the laws still stand. To speak ill of the King is a hang-able offence, Sharrow. As to speak ill is to give birth to treason." The irony wasn't lost on Jeanne that just days ago, she had committed the very crime she was accusing Henry Sharrow of, but the Scottish woman didn't care. All she wanted was to see the man squirm before he was swinging from a rope.
Henry looked down his nose at Jeanne, scoffing loudly. "You mean to lecture me, woman? Behave yourself as expected, and do not speak."
The moment those words left his mouth, Yeardley shot up from his chair with enough force to send the carved wood slamming back into the stage below. "Sharrow! You wish to repeat yourself?" The commotion it caused made a chill overtake the room, every man of lower standing stepping back slightly and looking anywhere but at their Governor.
"Speaking down to Lady Gardner…our dear Governor's niece…" Farlow spat, a sneer forming on his lips. "Such poor taste." Henry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. The man had been gone for weeks, and when he had been here after the redheaded woman's arrival, he hadn't thought much of her, only that she was friends with his wife-to-be and here to marry some sod that had paid for her. But to learn that the Scottish peasant was the Governor's niece meant that Henry had made a grave mistake.
"Apologies, I meant no disrespect." Henry started to speak, struggling to meet the Governor's gaze. "But doesn't God ask that a woman should know to show respect to men?"
"Normally, I would agree," Redwick spoke, ignoring the glare Yeardley sent him. "But Lady Gardner speaks the truth. You must never speak ill of our King." Breathing deep, the Governor was coaxed to back down by his co-councils, Farlow having picked up Yeardley's chair so he could sit back down. "Less you want me to oversee your hanging." Redwick smiled, knowing that he would indeed enjoy seeing the man hang for all the annoyances he'd caused the Marshal over the years.
"Henry," Farlow spoke up. "Let us remember that we are all here as servants to the Virginia Company. We can, I'm sure, find a fair reward for your dauntless endeavour," He shared a quick glance at Jeanne, watching her hands clench at her sides. "But you must recognise that this find comes under the determination of the law."
"The law?" Henry scoffed, his hands on his hips and his jaw rolling. "Gentlemen. You know as well as I do that the law bends to the will of the men with the riches." The men behind him began to agree weakly, still put off after their Governor's outburst just minutes earlier. "Let us ask our Governor, what will you have us do?"
Yeardley was leaning back in his chair, still glaring murderously down at Henry. He wanted nothing more than to see to the man being tossed into the jailhouse or maybe even the stocks for his comments towards his niece. But he knew he had to behave. He was Jamestown's Governor. "We will confirm what the sack contains first. We will send it to England on the first available ship for confirmation."
"This sack ain't going on no ship." Henry retorted. He didn't want to be parted from its contents. Yeardley breathed deeply. Slowly, he stood back up and leaned over the table, meeting Henry's eyes, questioning how the man proposed to refine the silver and confirm its contents. "I held rocks in my hand. Flexed, cut, shot with silver. It's silver." Henry was smiling smugly again as if what he found didn't need to be confirmed. "There's more rocks than I could dig up in a month. Six months. And I have witnessed what is out there and know what it's worth. To Jamestown. Virginia. You gentlemen. All of us." He looked around him, the men beginning to cheer, repeating him as they felt the excitement bubble again. "I alone can say where the treasure is, so I will decide what is right. and what is wrong." The smug look didn't leave his face as he picked up his bag, leaving the town hall with the men cheering him on as they followed, the sight leaving Jeanne feeling disgusted.
As everyone left, leaving only the council behind, Jeanne stepped forward, standing where Henry stood previously, her arms crossed. "That man is no good." She hissed her gaze on the main entrance.
"I agreed…" Farlow muttered, stepping off the stage and standing beside the redheaded woman. "But he has the town's ear and heart."
Jeanne snorted. "He is flaunting them the promise of riches. That only can buy anyone's allegiance." Farlow chuckled at the comment. Redwick moved to stand on Jeanne's other side as Yeardley spoke in whispers with Recorder Castell behind them.
"You were eager to pick a fight with the man," Redwick spoke, eyeing her. Farlow hummed, eyeing her as well from the corner of his eye.
She pursed her lips, debating on whether or not to speak. "Remember my second day here, when I said a maid was raped…" Both men stared at her with wide eyes, but only Farlow had his mouth gaping like a fish at her words.
"Henry Sharrow was the one who raped a woman." Redwick spat. His blood was boiling in his veins, and his hands were clenched at his sides. "And will you tell me the name of the woman?"
"I think that would be obvious." Farlow retorted, finally having gained back his senses. "Never be alone with him, Jeanne."
She looked to the pompous man, her face dead serious, yet her eyes were alight with a flame like that of a raging storm. "I pray I do," Jeanne said. "For I will remove his cock and balls and leave him bleeding out in the wilds for animals to tear apart." She stormed towards the exit, her mind on finding Alice to see to her friend's well-being. Farlow and Redwick watch the redheaded woman go, feeling impressed and scared of the Scot. Alice wasn't hard to find. After Henry's eventful return to Jamestown, the brunette woman has spent the night at the tavern in the protective embrace of Verity. Alice was too afraid to return home, knowing that Henry would be there. And it was there that Jeanne found her friends, hiding away in the backroom that acted at the tavern's living compartments. The two women were sitting on the bed, Verity's arms wrapped around her friend as she hugged Alice close.
"I spat at him." Verity smirked, looking at her fellow redhead from the corner of her eye. Jeanne snickered, moving to sit down on the other side of Alice. The three moments sat in a comforting silence for what felt like hours, the two redhead women just seeing to their friend's well-being, but Jeanne knew she had to speak. She had to tell Alice what she'd done. Swallowing back the lump, she finally opened her mouth. "I told the council. About what Henry did."
Verity's gaze darkened. "What would you—"
"No," Alice spoke, her voice raw. "She needed to. I need to." She looked up, her eyes moving between her two friends as she seemed to be fighting back her own emotions. Without another word to the women, Alice stood, stepping out of the bedroom with determined steps. Jeanne and Verity were close behind her, following Alice from the tavern to the town hall. Inside was only Marshal Redwick and Secretary Farlow, the two men talking in aggressive whispers. Noticing the three women, it was only Farlow's expression that changed. His shoulders dropped, and his face became remorseful as he looked at Alice. "Marshal," She spoke, stepping further into the large room. "I wish to report…a rape…" Alice croaked out. Verity stepped in behind her, leaving comforting fingertips on the woman's back as Jeanne went around, shutting all the doors and windows, wanting to create a sense of privacy.
Redwick rolled his jaw. He took a step towards her, signalling for her to continue. "And how did he rape you?" The question man Verity and Jeanne look at the man like he was an idiot. Jeanne quickly hooked a hand onto Verity's elbow, pulling the woman back sharply to make sure a smart mouth quip didn't leave her mouth.
"It was the first night I arrived here. Henry Sharrow followed me down to the water's edge, and he raped me." Alice spoke, her voice becoming more confident the more she spoke.
"Why do you accuse him now?" Redwick enquired.
"Henry left Jamestown. Believed dead, there was no need to report it." She replied. "Now that he's returned, I'm asking for justice." Alice deemed her answer was enough. With Henry dead, there was no need to ever mention or think about what he did to her that night, but now that the man was back, she felt that any moment he would put his hands on her. Rape her again.
Farlow cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "While I respect your need for justice, it has come too soon. Too many weeks have passed, and who would believe it? You marry the brother of the man that raped you, and now that he has returned with newfound riches, you accuse him." As he spoke, he moved closer to her and Redwick. His lips pursed in thought. Verity and Alice looked at the Secretary in offence, but Jeanne frowned, understanding his explanation even if she found them rude. "You see how this looks?"
"You little—" Verity moved forward towards Farlow, the man stepping back as the Irish woman began to lash out, but Jeanne was faster. She moved in front of her friend, blocking off the woman.
"Verity!" Jeanne barked, taking the brunt of the woman's ire. "As much as I dislike Farlow's statement, he speaks truth." Jeanne sighed, her eyes closed as she took a moment to arrange her thoughts before opening them and looking at Alice. "I'm sorry. But the town will talk. Rumours spun if this gets out. Some may never believe you, thinking you're a harlot after gold." Verity began to mutter swears under her breath, finding herself more annoyed with her fellow redhead as Alice simply stared at Jeanne. There was pain in the brunette's eyes, expressing just how she felt. Betrayed.
"Shame on your church-knees, worm livered Christian souls!" Verity swore, her eyes dancing between the two men and Jeanne. "We women were promised the protection of England's laws if we came here. But in this place, it seems blackness is a virtue."
"Come Verity. Let's go." Alice spoke defeatedly. She reached out for her friend's wrist, guiding Verity to the entrance, but she paused. "Henry Sharrow can come after me any time he chooses. How can I live here knowing that." The statement was her last attempt, a white flag flying to the three of them in her desperation. But she didn't bother to wait for them to speak, finally leaving with Verity beside her. Jeanne watched them leave, her arms crossed over her chest as the guilt began to settle in her gut. Farlow reached out, his fingers grazing her arm.
"There must be something you can do?" Jeanne whispered, glancing at Redwick. The Marshall's jaw was tense as his mind worked, thinking hard about the next step he could take. "Other women could be at risk of harm from Henry Sharrow."
Farlow stepped around Jeanne, causing the three of them to form a small huddle. He looked to his companion. "This business might serve in our favour," He spoke, making Jeanne arch a brow, her gaze shifting between the two men. "The gallows might make Sharrow biddable."
"Henry Sharrow isn't biddable. He's barely human." Redwick retorted, no longer caring for the woman's presence. With a scowl on his face, he stalked away, leaving Jeanne and Farlow alone in the town hall.
"What favour, Nicolas?" Jeanne asked, her arms crossing once again as she arched a brow at him. Farlow breathed deeply, eyeing Jeanne from the corner of his eye. He was debating whether or not to trust her but decided to take the gamble. She'd shown she was willing to trust him.
"If Sharrow had indeed found silver, it would bring fortune to Jamestown." He answered her enquiry. "And…whoever has control of the silver marker…"
"…Will be the one with all the power…" Jeanne scoffed, looking at him in bewilderment. She understood. Redwick and Farlow wanted the silver for themselves and all the power that came with the riches. "You know what this means for the natives, right? They're not just going to stand by and let all of England claim their lands for shiny rocks. And not just England, the Spanish will come. The French. Germans. Anyone who seeks to make their fortune will make for the New World and kill anyone who gets in their way. It will be a blood bath!" Her gaze was hard, like a frenzied madwoman, as she barked, her voice loud but not loud enough to let nearby ears hear her.
"This is how nations gain and keep their power." Farlow spoke, his face neutral.
Jeanne frowned. "Don't tell me how nations gain and keep power. My father's people know those pains well, as do Verity's. We all bleed the same blood, Nicholas, so I ask you, how many men, women and children, humans, die before England is content with what they have?"
His jaw tensed again. he wanted to answer her, but he knew it would anger her. "As many lives as England requires," Farlow stated. It was the truth. England or any nation wouldn't be sated, no matter how much blood was spilled and riches collected, for there would always be the prospect for more. "You know this." He looked down his nose at her, hoping she would accept this and move on. Jeanne was frowning as she shuffled on her feet. "Jeanne…" Farlow said her name, their eyes meeting as he tried to coax an answer from her.
"I know." She muttered. Her voice strained as the woman was fighting back her own emotions. Farlow reached out, his fingers gracing his arm once more in a comforting gesture.
It was the morning day when Jeanne was walking with her uncle, the two making a walk of the town and interacting with the populace, seeing to any minor qualms or annoyance that Yeardley felt he should know about as their Governor. Approaching the centre of town, they noticed the small crowd gathered around James Read's blacksmithing station, which included Henry Sharrow. The scarred man was currently conversing with James while the blacksmith was laying the bricks for a kiln. Jeanne was offended that he was helping Henry, as the blacksmith had stood up for Alice and aided her, smiting her a dagger to defend herself with. When Henry noticed the uncle and niece, he excused himself from James, heading towards them. Yeardley's hand went to his niece's lower back, a comforting and protective touch as his eyes narrowed at Sharrow.
"Anyone travel with you to discover the treasure?" Yeardley asked him as Henry Sharrow fell into step beside him on the Governor's right. Jeanne stood tightly to her uncle's left, the man pulling her close to him, a way to show Sharrow just how protective the man was over his niece. She looked over her shoulder, meeting James Read's eye as the man was messing with a bowl of mortar in his hands.
"No. I went alone." Henry stated confidently. But there was a faint twitch to Yeardley's lip. He knew the scarred man was lying to him.
"No Indian guides?" Yeardley pressed further.
"No one." Henry lied again. Jeanne was looking between him and her uncle. The two men clearly had an unspoken fight with their eyes in the way they stared each other down and puffed out their chests. Each man tried to be the more powerful male in their conversation.
Yeardley's tone began to get more serious, his patience beginning to run thin. "De La Warr's map, did you have sight of it?"
"I had no need to." Henry retorted smugly.
Yeardley's hand dropped from his niece's back, and he stepped closer to Sharrow, his arms crossing stiffly across his chest. "You have one possibility. Return to mine the silver from the ground. That's too vast an operation for one man, as you know." His words were meant to be a threat, a way of challenging Henry Sharrow to not only hand over his information of the location of the silver's location and form of partnership in the operation. Jeanne disliked that her uncle was willing to entertain the prospect of an alliance with the man just because of the possibility of him having found silver,
"I will offer wonders plenty to all that follow me." Henry threatened back, no sign of fear on his face as he stared down his Governor. "Any man that betrays me or thieves from me, lies to me, will wish they never set eyes on my wretched face."
Jeanne frowned, her own arms crossing like she was mirroring her uncle. "And any man who manages to harm the women of Jamestown will wish they hadn't." She spat, trying to make her own threat carry more merit. When Sharrow's eyes landed on the redhead, Jeanne couldn't resist the urge. Her arms uncrossed, reaching down to hoist up her skirt to expose her calf and the shiny dagger held to her leg by her stocking ties. "Have you heard of eunuchs, Sharrow?" She smirked, asking the man, noticing how he became uncomfortable as his eyes noticed the blade. Yeardley pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter as his niece dropped her skirt.
Henry Sharrow wasn't ignorant. Farlow had come to see him the night prior, alerting him that Alice had reported the rape to him and the Marshall, so he could only assume that Jeanne knew about the rape as well. "I have." Was all he said, moving away from the uncle and niece, trying to create a distance from the redhead.
Yeardley was snickering now. "Well, if my threat didn't have an effect, yours sure did." He glanced at his niece, noticing how she was still glaring at Sharrow's back. His smile dropped. Yeardley's hand returned to her back, making the younger woman snap her attention to him. "If he comes after you—"
"He won't." She cut him off, confident in her words. Yet there was fear. Jeanne knew she couldn't underestimate Henry Sharrow and that the man could very much indeed seek to retaliate against her, but he had proven to be a calculating man, which meant he was also smart enough not to. Henry knew what awaited him if he chose to target Jeanne that he would earn the ire of Jamestown, and there would be nowhere safe for him, not in the New World or England. Henry Sharrow would be a dead man.
Yeardley nodded, playing along with his niece's confidence. "If you are sure."
"I am," Jeanne responded. She glanced back over her shoulder, once again seeing James Read watching them. She returned her eyes to her uncle. "Excuse me." She reached up, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek as she stepped away from him, approaching the blacksmith. He nodded to her as she neared, his form of greeting. "James." Jeanne spoke, nodding back. She looked at the men that were gathered around him, watching him build the kiln. With just her eyes, the men began to mutter, moving away with excuses of places they needed to be.
"That's one way to get rid of the spectators." He snorted, using a trowel to pick up the mortar from the bowel as he slowly began building the next layer of bricks up on the kiln.
"Henry Sharrow," Jeanne started, picking up a brick and laying it on top of the fresher layer of mortar so that James didn't have to. He hammered the brick down with the end of the trowel, his eyes on her as he waited for the woman to continue speaking. "You're aiding the man."
His jaw tightened. "If I could, I'd take him out to the forest and shoot him in the back," James spoke, letting the woman continue to assist him in building the kiln. "The men are all excited over the prospect of silver."
"I threatened to castrate him if he harmed any of the women again," Jeanne muttered. James paused, his eyes wide as he stared at the woman. He didn't know how to respond to that, leaving Jeanne to smile at his expression.
After a moment, he spoke. "I'll hold him down then." Jeanne barked a laugh, the two of them laughing and smiling as they continued to work on the kiln, passing back insults directed at Henry Sharrow to pass the time, not stopping until the kiln was completely built up and the mortar left to set. "Is it just Sharrow that has you all angered?"
"This silver business…" Jeanne sighed, her eyes following him as he set his mortar bowl and trowel aside. "What this means for the Indians if the silver is real."
James nodded, understanding her meaning. "It won't be a pretty sight. There will be war. Plenty of them will die."
"It's not right." She muttered, coming to lean against one of the posts that held up the roof of his workstation.
"Doesn't matter if it's right or wrong." He glanced at her. "Men will do what they need to do to survive, as will the Indians." James watched as she only pursed her lips, the woman only getting more annoyed by his words. James Read had been at Jamestown since the beginning, seeing everything that came with being a small colony on foreign shores. He had seen death, war, famine and disease. "In the end, we all will."
Jeanne had been leaning against the town hall exterior the next day, her eyes on the blacksmithing station as James Read was preparing to smelt down the silver to confirm if the minerals that Henry Sharrow had brought back, ensuring that the hot coals were in the kiln and heating up the inside, making sure it got to the temperature needed to refine the silver. Her gaze hardened when she spotted Silas Sharrow approaching James. He had returned late the previous day and, since then, has been scorned by the entire township, many seeing the man as a betrayer for leaving his brother behind, but Jeanne believed them all misled by their own selfish greed for the silver Henry had returned with. She continued to watch the two men talk, over what topics she wasn't sure, but when they were done, Silas headed her way.
"You mad at me too?" He asked her, a frown on his face.
She gazed at him quizzically. "You went off to confirm if your brother was alive or dead. Can't blame you for that." Jeanne replied, seeing the tenseness in his shoulders drop. "But you did leave Alice behind. She has been so afraid these last few days, Verity naught even leaving her side."
Silas nodded, his gaze moving around the centre of town. His eyes landed on his older brother who was standing outside the tavern, a group of men with him. "Alice yelled at me last night." He looked back to the redhead woman. "She refused me."
"She is upset with me too," Jeanne spoke. Her statement got a surprised look from the man. Silas was curious as to what she could have done to earn his wife's ire. "She reported the rape to Redwick and Farlow, but that dismissed it. If it became public knowledge at this time, many would assume it was because she wanted the silver. Greed drives people to ridiculous notions." Her blue eyes glanced down at her feet, the edge of her shoes covered in dried mud. "I agreed with them."
"You did it for her safety," Silas muttered. Jeanne nodded, not yet looking up at him. She knew there was an obvious look of shame on her face, and she dared not show it. "I got something for you." Jeanne looked up as she heard the ruffling of his clothes, Silas pulling a small bundle of clothe from the pockets of his vest and holding it out to her. "Here."
Jeanne eyed him curiously as she took it from him, unfurling it to reveal a handkerchief. Her handkerchief. The one she had left with Chacrow after she'd cut his chest. There was even a small bloodstain still present on the material. Her head snapped to Silas, eyes wide in fear. "How did you get this…?" She hissed out, her voice having dropped an octave.
"Chacrow," Silas whispered back, stepping closer to the woman. "He went with me to look for Henry. Ask me to hand it back to you. Says he is sorry for not being able to meet with you." He crossed his arms. "You've been meeting with him?"
Jeanne nodded, folding her handkerchief back up and stuffing it down the front of her bodice. "Yes," She stated reluctantly. She wasn't happy that he knew, as before him, the only other person aware that she'd been in constant contact with the native man was Farlow. "He helped me procure the medicine that saved my uncle's life, and for that, I agreed to meet with him." Silas rolled his jaw, nodding. He went to open his mouth to speak again but was cut off as the town began to gather around James Read, the blacksmith now ready to refine Henry's silver. Almost everyone had gathered, even the council members who were eager to see the results. James explained the process as he worked that adding lead balls to the mineral would draw out the impurities and refine the silver. Jeanne's stomach dropped when the cheers and hollering erupted from the men around Henry. It was silver.
Silas cursed from his position beside Jeanne. "This isn't going to end well…" He muttered under his breath, stomping away from the merriment and heading towards the town gates. He was quickly bombarded by men standing by the gates, each one tossing him insults as they surrounded him, some even beginning to shove him. Jeanne's brows furrowed, watching them, listening to the slurs of 'coward' and 'cur', words she would never have used to describe the man. With clenched fists, she planned to come to the man's defence, but she'd been beaten to it. Alice was already matching over, determined to defend her husband.
"If any of you men had half the courage of Silas Sharrow, you'd face him alone, not safely in your swaggering mob." Alice barked, shoving her way through the small crowd that had gathered, staring each offender down despite her small stature. "Have you forgotten the Silas you've known for so many years? Or is your fellowship really so fickle?" None of them responded to her question, making her scoff. She reached for her husband, pulling him away from the group of men. The men stood by the gate, watching the couple with scornful looks as the pair whispered to one another.
Jeanne stepped over, her arms folded over her chest. She cleared her throat, glaring hard as each man turned to her. Jeanne gestured with her head for them to move on. "Leave. Now." At her tone, they did as instructed, none of them saying anything as they fled back inside the walls and away from the redheaded woman. Jeanne moved further outside the gates, her eyes on her friends, watching them make up and kiss. When Alice and Silas turned to face Jamestown, they paused when they saw Jeanne watching them, a smile on the woman's face. "I see you two have rekindled."
Alice returned the smile. Dropping her husband's hands, she rushed to Jeanne, throwing her arms around the redhead and pulling her into an embrace. "Jeanne…" The brunette sobbed. "I'm so sorry…"
Jeanne chuckled, pulling her friend from her form. "There is nothing to apologise for. Go be with your husband." She guided her back to Silas. "There is someone I must go and seek out."
Silas turned to face her as he took his wife's hand. "You go to seek him now?"
"I must. He needs to be warned that silver has been found." Jeanne answered. Silas nodded, his face serious as he agreed with her. Alice was looking back and forth between her husband and friend, not sure what they were talking about or whom. With a final goodbye, Jeanne walked off, heading deep into the forest path that led to the Massinger Plantation, which led to the patch of Tulip trees. Stepping off the path and into the forest, Jeanne hiked up her skirts as she carefully moved through the plants. When she made it to the trees, she stopped, looking around. There was no sign of Chacrow. While they hadn't planned to meet, she had taken the initiative to do so based on the fact that he'd handed her handkerchief over to Silas to be returned to her. Jeanne huffed, crossing her arms as she pursed her lips. Turning around, she was met with Chacrow's smiling face, the man having angled himself down to her level. Jeanne jumped. "Chacrow!"
The man was chuckling, his face lightly up at her discomfort. "Jeanne." He smiled, leaning closer to her. "I was waiting for you." Jeanne leaned away from him, her face grimacing at the man's actions. "I knew you'd come."
Jeanne scoffed at that last comment, rolling her eyes dramatically at him. "I did not come for your enjoyment. She stated, but Chacrow's grin didn't falter. "I have come to warn you." She said. That made his grin drop and his face become serious. "Henry Sharrow returned to Jamestown with silver. It has been confirmed."
Chacrow stood back up to his full height. "Silas returned after him, and what importance is this silver?" He clicked his tongue.
"This silver means more English will come." She retorted, pacing around as she had to explain to the man why silver was so important to the outside world. "And Spanish, and French…anyone who will desire the wealth the silver will bring." Jeanne faced him again, seeing the aggressive scowl on Chacrow's face. She was used to seeing him looking smug and prideful and seeing him actually upset was disturbing.
"So more will come." Chacrow said, more of a statement than a question. His jaw was tense as he gazed past her, the gears turning in his mind as he processed the information she'd shared with him.
"I wanted to warn you. And your people." Jeanne gripped out, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I don't want to see bloodshed or war."
"Jeanne," He said her name, his gaze softening as it landed on her freckled face. "You have my thanks. You risked much to tell me this. To go against your people." Chacrow reached out, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her forearms and causing goosebumps to form over her skin. Jeanne glanced down at her still folded arms, observing how gently his fingertip glided over her skin, a softness she hadn't expected of him. Her blue eyes moved to meet his, seeing that Chacrow had once again angled down to her level, his face close to hers. The way he was staring and touching resulted in an uncomfortable feeling deep within her gut, something she'd never felt before.
Jeanne swallowed a lump that had appeared in her throat without her noticing. "I should be returning home…" She mumbled, brows furrowed as she continued to look at him, unable to pull away from his gaze. Chacrow didn't speak; he just continued to stare and trace her arm like he was drawing imaginary shapes across her skin with his fingertips, leaving the back of her mind trying to decipher the unknown message.
"You could stay," He smiled, his face moving in closer, causing Jeanne to lean back to escape the closeness. "Jeanne…" He murmured her name, his tilting slightly as his eyes dropped to her lips.
Her stomach dropped. "I have to go." Jeanne yelped, jerking back away from him. She hoisted up her skirts as she bolted through the forest, not looking back as her heart thundered in her chest and the glow of the sunset hit her back. She didn't stop running, not even as she entered the gates of Jamestown, only when she bumped straight into Verity, the woman on her way out of town, a satchel hanging off her shoulders. Both women gasped as they collided with one another.
"By the Virgin Mary! Jeanne!" Verity hissed, her hands latching onto the redheaded woman as she stabilised them both. "Why you running like that for?!" She lectured, taking in her friend's dishevelled appearance as Jeanne panted to control her breathing but also her reddened face and wide, scared eyes. "Jeanne, is everything alright?" Verity's gaze and voice softened, a motherly concern obvious on her face.
"I…I…" Jeanne tried to stammer out, her mind racing with thoughts as she tried to make sense of the feeling in her gut. "…I have no idea…" Verity eyed the fellow redhead cautiously. She'd never seen the Scottish woman so frazzled or out of place before. Hooking an arm around Jeanne's middle, Verity guided her to the town hall, which was void of life at that time of evening. Entering the large spacious room, Verity led her to the back, the two of them sitting on the stage facing the hall's entrance.
"You going to speak?" She prodded her friend, eyeing Jeanne with a playful glare.
Jeanne licked her lower lip, not yet meeting her friend's gaze despite the fact she could feel Verity burning holes into the side of her head. "I think I had a man…show his…intentions today."
Verity's mouth dropped as she struggled to hold back the large grin that was threatening to consume her face. "Who? Was it James Read? I often see you two whispering together."
Jeanne chuckled, shaking her head. "No, not James." While she couldn't disagree that the town blacksmith was handsome, the man still only had eyes for Alice.
"Then who?!" Verity giggled, practically vibrating from excitement. Her smile dropped when she saw the look of guilt in Jeanne's eyes despite the woman's laughter, making Verity concerned. "Balls. Wasn't that pompous Farlow, was it?"
The Scottish woman laughed, shaking her head again, though she didn't mention that Farlow had already asked for her hand in marriage, which was under the pretence of Jeanne staying in Jamestown if something were to happen to her uncle. "You cannot speak of this to anyone." Jeanne faced her friend, gripping her hands in a death-like grip to show her seriousness. "I have been secretly meeting with Chacrow—"
"That savage that jumped us in the dark!" Verity gasped but quickly lowered her voice when she became aware of just how loud she'd yelled. "Jeanne. If your uncle were to find out—"
"I know, I know…" Jeanne sighed, her lips tight as she fought with herself mentally. "And today, I went to warn him about the silver that's been discovered…and he…" The heat returned to her face as she spoke, making Verity smirk. But it wasn't just the heat on her face. That same feeling was back in her stomach, making Jeanne shift as she tried to adjust herself, thinking it would somehow make the feeling go away.
"You're face is almost as red as your hair!" Verity giggled, poking her friend's cheek. Jeanne swatted her hand away. "I knew that red-blooded man wanted you. Any time I saw him, he was staring at you like some precious shiny jewel." The Irish woman licked her lips, eager to hear more. "How'd he do it? A savage man like that, did he pin you to a tree? Threaten to tear off your clothes and claim you?"
"Verity Rutter!" Jeanne barked, staring at her friend in astonishment. Verity just laughed harder at the Scot's reaction. "All he did was stare at me and touch my arm. But it was his eyes. I thought he was going to try and kiss me."
Verity snorted. "That all he do?" With a shake of her head, Verity tutted her friend. "Did you want him to?" Jeanne's eyes went wide at the question, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to stammer out an answer. "I said. Did you want the man to kiss you?" Verity spoke again, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Jeanne looked away from her, afraid of the answer. "I…I don't know…" She murmured faintly, just enough for her friend to hear. Her head was downcast, her long red curls obscuring her face.
Verity reached over, brushing some of the curtains of hair away from Jeanne's face, tucking them behind the woman's ear so she could see her face. The shame and guilt were back. "Does it feel like you are about to hurl up your guts? That there are butterflies in your stomach and your hands get all sweaty?" She asked, smiling gently when Jeanne nodded. "Then you wanted him to." Verity's clarification made Jeanne groan. She didn't need this. She had a role to play as the Governor's niece, and running around in the woods being wooed by a native man would only end in disaster. "What are you going to do?"
Sighed, Jeanne sat up straight, her eyes ahead on the entrance to the town hall doors. "I would say avoid him, but I also made the man a promise." She ran a hand through her hair as she slid off the stage, glancing at Verity as she, too, made to stand up. "I can't go back on my word."
Jeanne hadn't slept well that night, her dreams racing of Chacrow pinning her to a tree and planting kisses all over her body as he ripped her dress from her body, an image she blamed Verity for putting in her mind. Because of that, it was obvious to others that she'd slept poorly, and she'd been so embarrassed over what had transpired in her dreams that she knew she could never tell anyone about it. When she'd awoken, Verity, who had been invited to share Jeanne's bed that night as she refused to return home to her husband of the man's loyalties to Henry Sharrow, could somehow tell. Over breakfast, Verity had been sending Jeanne a smug smile from across the table, even as Temperance was pestering the Irish woman for abandoning her womanly duties to her husband, making both the redheaded woman roll their eyes anytime the older woman turned her back on them. George Yeardley had been snickering under his breath, finding it all entertaining.
Jeanne had been grateful to get away from her friend as soon as she left the Yeardley residence, following her uncle along to Doctor Priestley's shop, where the council members, James Read and Henry Sharrow, had planned to meet with the Doctor to discuss the silver, as the Governor still wasn't convinced that is indeed silver. Jeanne had stood at the back of the shop beside the blacksmith, the large man looking on with crossed arms as George Yeardley and Henry Sharrow stood with Doctor Priestley.
"Machakaon. That's what the Powhatan call it." Priestley spoke, handing over a raw silvery stone to both men to look at. "They use it to decorate themselves."
"Antimony," Redwick spoke up. He wasn't impressed with anything to do with the native savages, so he felt that he had to correct the doctor.
Despite the interruption from the Marshal, Priestley continued speaking. "It has a much lower melting point than silver. To verify Henry's metal is silver, we must use two crucibles. Both vessels are to be placed in the fire at the same time and presented under the same heat. If this melts before Henry's does, then we can confirm that his is precious. But, if the furnace makes both metals molten at the same time, then they are the one mineral, not silver, but antimony." As he finished explaining the method that was to be used, Yeardley looked to Henry, wanting the man to give permission for the test to go ahead.
Henry looked down in thought, looking at the antimony stone that was still in his hands. "Melt them." He spoke when he finally looked back up at the doctor, nodding his head.
Before they could continue, shouts echoed outside. Fire. Henry was the first to bolt as the bell of the town hall began to ring in warning, with all men but James Read going after them. Yeardley had ordered his niece to stay, which she did. It was then that James chose to act, the man moving to the table where the antimony and Henry's silver coin lay forgotten. Jeanne watched as James took the coin, replacing it with a similar-looking silver coin.
"What are you doing?" She hissed at him, looking hastily between him and the shop door.
He shushed her, pocketing the silver coin and moving back to her side. "Avoiding bloodshed." Jeanne's harsh gaze dropped, and her mouth parted as she realised what he was doing. She looked back to the table at the fake silver coin. The pair waited for the others to come back long after the fire in the storehouse had been put out. Recorder Castell's maidservant, Mercy, had started a fire and became trapped inside the building, only to be rescued by Henry Sharrow, the man being praised as a hero by the townsfolk. Just another reason to have Jeanne's ire. She knew he wasn't a hero but a pigheaded man who was ruled by hubris.
Doctor Priestley picked up both metals, leading the group out to James' blacksmithing station. James got to work on heating up the kiln to the desired heat. In the distance, Jeanne could see men forming a work line as they transported water from the well to the storehouse, working on putting out the fire. Over time, as the fire was officially put out, the town gathered back around the workstation, waiting to see the outcome of the test.
"Antimony… Henry's silver." James spoke as he placed each metal in the crucibles, his eyes meeting Jeanne's in the crowd as she stood beside Farlow. They shared a knowing look at what was about to transpire. Both he and Priestly use tongs to pick up the crucibles, moving the bowls into the heated kiln as Henry Sharrow watched on next to them, the metals melting and bubbling in the heat.
"I'm sorry, Henry," Priestley spoke up, looking away from the metals to Sharrow. The crowd began to whisper and murmur as they heard the doctor speak. "I must declare these metals be one and the same. We might take them both to England to be tested, but I promise you, sir, this is as good a vouchsafe as any."
"The metal is worthless!" Marshall Redwick called out, alerting the gathered mob.
Yeardley stepped closer, staring down at the two crucibles in awe. "That can't be."
The sounds of Massinger's loud boasting laughter echoed over the silence. "Fool's riches! Not so proud now, eh, Henry Sharrow?" He jabbed, making others laugh with him. The blow to Henry's ego made the man step away, where Silas stepped into his path, trying to comfort his brother. But Henry lashed out, starting to punch Silas and continuing to do so as the man lay on the ground defenceless. James Read moved, pulling Henry off of his brother as the older man unsheathed a blade, ready to cut into Silas' flesh.
"Marshal!" Jeanne bellowed, calling out for Redwick to act. While Redwick was reluctant to take orders from the woman, he did so, ordering his men to take Henry Sharrow to the jailhouse. The crowd began to disperse around them, and the council members gathered. Yeardley had reached into his vest, pulling out the folded map that he had previously kept in a locked box on his desk, crumbling it up and tossing it to the ground as he informed the Marshall to order his men to stand down, as they would no longer be conducting an expedition into the mountains in search of silver. Jeanne reached down, picking up the crumbled ball as she stood alone before tossing it into the fires of the kiln, watching as it burned away to ash. The Scottish woman was smiling, glad that with both the map destroyed and no confirmation of silver, Chacrow's people would be safe.
"No bloodshed." James Read spoke as he came to stand next to her, his own eyes observing the fires as it consumed the parchment, the real silver coin still in his pocket. He looked at her, slowly taking the coin from his pocket and slipping it into her hand that hung limply by her side, a knowing smirk on his lips.
"No bloodshed." She repeated back, sharing his smirk as she looked at the man. She slipped the coin into the top of her bodice until she could dispose of it in such a manner that it would never be found.