It had been six months since Jeanne had made the tough decision to leave the Yeardley residence, leaving the safety of Jamestown's walls, having taken her uncle's words and actions personality. Jeanne had found the notions of her uncle's agreement for the Virginia Company to allow slaves distasteful. It had been shameful for her to witness how George Yeardley could sink so low in her eyes, his hunger for power and control causing him to shift from the loving uncle she remembered before leaving England to a cruel and vindictive Governor. The choice to leave hadn't been easy, nor had her aunt and uncle taken well to the news. It was against societal norms for a woman of Jeanne's status to leave the family home to live without guardians when unmarried. However, Jeanne's status wasn't truly hers; it was only the position put on her for being the Governor's niece. Jeanne was low-class at heart, a child who came from a small Scottish farming town.
Moving into the Sharrows' cabin, which exuded warmth and comfort, and assisting the brothers and Alice with the plantation had felt like a return to her true self. It reminded her of a past long forgotten, one she hadn't lived since before her father's passing, and not had Jeanne felt as free since her mother's death. There were no expectations on her shoulders or societal norms to follow. Just living.
Despite the cold Autumn and Winter months, with light snowfall that required Alice to bundle up more than the men, Jeanne remained undaunted. The Scottish lass beamed with each falling snowflake, her joy a testament to her resilience and adaptability, a quality that inspired those around her.
As Alice's pregnancy progressed, Jeanne's relationship with her significantly changed. They became more than just friends; they became sisters, sharing the same bed in the tiny house while the men slept in the main room of the two-room cabin. Alice's insistence on an extension or a new home to accommodate Pepper and Henry, especially the eldest Sharrow, reflected her continued discomfort around him. Jeanne, aware of Henry's suspicions about the child in Alice's womb, acted as a buffer between them, keeping him at a distance.
During those six months, Jeanne also continued to see Chacrow secretly, meeting with him far away from Jamestown and any spying eyes, sharing the stories of Scotland as she'd promised. Chacrow also felt no shame in making his interest in Jeanne just as known, sitting close as possible and touching the redhead any chance he got. Jeanne did try to keep space between them at first, rejecting the man's advances, the notion of a man showing romantic interest in her uncomfortable, yet soon, she found she enjoyed the attention Chacrow gave her. To him, Jeanne was the only woman in the world. Chacrow had made many advances to kiss her, getting more and more persistent with each rejection.
Jeanne knew that a kiss would solidify their growing emotions and relationship, and it scared her—not because of establishing a relationship between them but because of the reactions of the populace of Jamestown and the Pamunkey people. None would approve, seeing a blending of cultures and religions as distasteful. The people of Jamestown would be somewhat accepting of a relationship between the pair had Chacrow been a woman and Jeanne born a man. The idea of a woman of God marrying an Indian Savage would lead to war.
And then it happened. Chacrow had cupped Jeanne's chin, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. The kiss had been short and brief, but it had been just long enough to affect Jeanne. When her eyes finally opened, she was alone, unaware of just how long she'd been standing there, basking in the feel of his warm lips on hers.
That had been a week ago, and Jeanne had purposely avoided going back to see Chacrow. While she had enjoyed the kiss and had wanted him to kiss her again, there was a pang of regret in her gut. Verity and Alice noticed the shift in Jeanne; the redhead's normal outspoken tone changed to silent as she barely conversed with her friends. The three women walked outside in the forest alongside the riverbank, dodging through trees and bushes. Verity was in the middle, currently pestering Jeanne, who walked behind her about how quiet the woman had been the previous week. Alice walked ahead, trying to calm the Irishwoman.
Alice suspected there was a reason Jeanne was being secretive, and she also suspected a certain native man was to blame. But she would not harass Jeanne as Verity did, knowing that the Scot would speak about it when she was ready. "Enough, Verity," Alice whined, glancing over her shoulder. "Leave the poor woman alone."
"If you wish it." Verity huffed, turning her back on Jeanne and looking ahead at Alice. "Rutter was rambling today. He tells me that he's fond of the Low Countries." Alice started to giggle at the woman's tales. Stories of her husband's drunkard ramblings always serve as good entertainment. "But, er…his old potatofingers, always too sleep-eyed to go!"
Alice laughed harder, turning her back to the river, but it had been a mistake. In an instant, the embankment gave way beneath her feet. She had tumbled down the cliff into the river before Verity or Jeanne could act. Alice was screaming as she felt the pains in her belly, blood from her womb mixing into the brownish river. With no regard for their safety, Verity and Jeanne slid down the cliff, trying to keep Alice above the water as the panic and hysteria set in. She kept hollering for her baby while Verity screamed for help, but they were too far away from the plantations and Jamestown.
"You need to remain calm, Alice!" Jeanne barked, trying to reason with the labouring woman. Jeanne had seen firsthand the toil labour could take on a woman, the stress enough to kill the mothers before the babes even entered the world. "You need to listen to me, Alice!" But Alice's panic couldn't be quelled, the fear that she'd gone into labour early and that the baby might have been killed from the fall consuming her mind.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Verity and Jeanne glanced up, spotting Maria, one of the slave women who had been brought to Jamestown six months ago, running towards them through the trees. "Maria, help us!" Verity called out to her, using all her weight to hold Alice up. Maria stepped down into the river, assisting the women. While Jeanne and Verity comforted Alice through labour, Maria had moved the weighted-down skirt aside, feeling for the baby's head. When she felt the baby crowning, her hands moved, feeling around the neck for an umbilical cord.
It had been a daunting process, an emotionally and physically draining experience for all four women, clinging together as Alice gave birth, Alice muttering a prayer under her breath in between cries of pain to Saint Margaret, the patron saint of childbirth. Finally, pulling the birthed newborn from the water, Maria gave the screaming babe to Alice, the dark-haired woman holding it tightly to her chest.
"Oh, you have yourself a Sharrow boy!" Verity cried joyfully, peering down to spot the baby's penis.
Alice leaned into her two friends, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was thankful that both she and the baby had survived, yet the next few months would prove haunting for the son. The baby Sharrow was the first child born in Jamestown, and there was no telling if he would survive. He would be the test to see if children could be born and raised in the colony. As the three women fawned over the baby, Maria stepped back, taking a moment to admire the moment. She turned her back, praying silently in her native tongue of Umbundu. Before being sold to the Portuguese and given the name Maria. She had been Ghinga, a wife and mother to three beautiful children. She had been taken from them, and she longed to return home. The three women paid them no mind, too focused on the well-being of Alice and her newborn son.
"We best get you out of the water…" Jeanne muttered, looking to Verity for assistance. The two redheads carefully pulled Alice from the water, cradling the baby and afterbirth in her skirts. Maria had trailed behind them but soon broke away and returned to the plantation she called home. If she didn't, only punishment would await her.
Verity slowly held onto Alice while Jeanne ran ahead, the Scot calling for Pepper. The young man was busy chopping wood when he heard Jeanne's cries and looked in her direction. His eyes moved past her, landing on Alice's shuffling form. He froze initially, afraid that something dire had happened, but then he noted that she was holding something to her chest.
"Pepper!" Jeanne yelled. "Get a fire going!" The boy blinked, hesitating as his gaze was pulled from Alice to Jeanne before flicking back to his sister-in-law. Dropping his axe, he fled into the home, going to follow the orders to ensure the fireplace would be lit. Ushering Verity and Alice inside, Jeanne went to assist Pepper quickly, the boy asking her what was going on, as he still hadn't put everything together, only taking notice that the women were wet, and then he heard the crying, his eyes snapping to the bedroom.
"Is that a baby?" Pepper gasped, eyes wide. "Did Alice have her baby?"
"Yes!" Jeanne hissed, pushing Pepper outside despite his protests. Once she had successfully shut the boy out of the house, Jeanne hurried to the bedroom, already finding Alice in the process of redressing into dry clothes while Verity was wrapping up the baby boy in a clean blanket. "Wait," Jeanne spoke, stepping forward. She'd dug through Alice's knitting supplies, cutting off some yarn. Standing beside Verity, Jeanne tied off the umbilical cord tightly. She gestured for the Irish woman to continue to wait. Jeanne stepped into the house's main room, grabbing a clean knife and holding it over the fire to heat the metal. Returning to the bedroom, Alice and Verity eyed Jeanne as she came up to the baby, cutting the umbilical cord free from the placenta.
Verity returned to wrapping the baby snugly, handing it off to its mother, who was now dressed. Alice thanked her, pulling her son to her chest. Jeanne guided the woman and babe into the living space, sitting her down in front of the warm fire, hoping to remove the river's chill from their bones.
"Call for us," Jeanne instructed, returning to the bedchamber to change out of her own wet clothes, even offering a replacement gown to Verity. The two redheads dressed quickly, not wanting to leave their friend alone. It was common knowledge that one in forty women died due to childbirth, some even passing weeks after, and that two out of ten children die before their fifth birthday. Jamestown had no midwife to assist with the importance of childbirth and labour, only Doctor Priestly, yet men were often taught what women were, as the ways of women were kept among women.
Stepping into the living room, the two redheaded women found Alice sitting where Jeanne had left her, cradling her son, while Pepper was kneeling before her, admiring his newborn nephew, a giant grin on his young face. Verity and Jeanne chuckled at the sight, finding it comforting to see. Jeanne watched as the boy pestered Alice with questions, some broaching on improper questions for a man to ask a woman about childbirth, earning a flick to his ear and a lecture from Jeanne. "You can't ask that." She hissed, her eyes narrowing playfully.
"Why?" Pepper whined, generally curious as to why. He had been a boy of seven when he first came to Jamestown with his brothers. Therefore, he wasn't raised to understand the social norms separating men and women.
"It's women's business." Jeanne shrugged. "Men find it undesirable knowledge." The explanation just had the boy's face scrunching up in confusion. Silas described Pepper as a man who hungered for knowledge, eager to prove and evolve into the man he thinks his brothers expect him to be. Pepper didn't press the topic, but it was obvious that he didn't like that he couldn't know simply because he was born a man.
"I say let him know," Verity spoke, a mischievous look overtaking her face. Jeanne elbowed her side, and the Irish woman returned the playful gesture.
"Silas will be excited to come home to a son when he returns today." Pepper spoke, his eyes flicking between Alice and the baby.
"He will," Verity beamed, lightly leaning over and nudging the new mother. "I'll run into town and wait for him. I'll tell me to race home as soon as I see him." With a quick hug to Alice and Jeanne, Verity left, a noticeable bounce to her step as she took off, bolting from the open doorway. The three adults watched her go with a laugh.
"I think she's more excited than Silas will be." Jeanne joked, shaking her head. Pepper muttered in agreement, slowly pulling his gaze from the door and back to his nephew. "I ought to go with her; my uncle and aunt requested to see me…" It had been a reluctant statement. Before Silas and Henry left days ago to venture upriver to trade with the Pamunkey, Farlow had come to the Sharrow farm to inform her that the governor and his wife had formally requested her presence, which she'd ignored for four days.
"Behave yourself." Alice lectured, her eyes narrowing on her friend's back, but Jeanne waved the warning off. Jeanne had no intention of playing nice with her uncle and aunt.
It was still mid-morning when Jeanne arrived at Jamestown's port, finding Verity wandering around looking for the Sharrow brothers. All around the two women were men whispering and gossiping. The Sharrows had arrived back in town not long ago with one piece of unexpected cargo—a body. While heading back to Jamestown, the two men encountered a corpse on the riverbank, being feasted upon by a condor. The sight of Recorder Samuel Castell's bloodied corpses being carried on the Sharrow's second canoe had gathered those at the docks, many taking it in in shock. To see Castell's body in such a state could only lead to one thought: the man had been murdered, but by whom and why had caused everyone to gossip, fearing that anyone could be next. The news had made Verity and Jeanne's stomach swirl, the thought of murder distasteful.
"Come, they might be in the shipping house," Jeanne stated, pulling on Verity's arm and guiding her away from the townsfolk who found entertainment in speaking ill of the dead. The two women stopped outside the storehouse, Jeanne pulling Verity close as they heard the voices within. The Sharrow brothers and the Marshall and Secretary Farlow. Sharing a look, both women pressed themselves closer, listening in.
"I might wonder if it was the Indians killed Samuel Castell." Marshall Redwick spoke, pressing the Sharrow brothers over the Recorder's death, no doubt suspicious about the men finding the body. He never liked the Sharrows, regardless.
"The Recorder drowned. He weren't the first man to misjudge the river." Henry's blunt answer showed he didn't wish to converse with the two men.
"The savages pretend to be at peace with us, but…all the while we expand, they detest our every footstep," Farlow stated, remaining as professional as ever. Outside the storehouse, Jeanne was scowling. She didn't agree with anything the two company men were saying, even if she considered Farlow a friend; Jeanne knew that the Pamunkey were good people, far better than the Virginia Company.
"Sir, the Recorder was a friend." Silas interrupted, trying to put an end to the conversation. "He spoke most often on our behalf. We knew that."
"You've brought in a lot of hides of late, Sharrow," Redwick spoke. The Marshall was trying to keep the conversation going while investigating the Sharrow brothers' intentions with the natives. For the prosperity and safety of Jamestown, it was Redwick's duty to ensure that none of those who held loyalty to Jamestown would dare to risk sharing secrets with the Pamunkey.
"This is why we're here, in't it? To make no end of coin by the…merry dance of trade." Henry answered.
Verity scoffed and rolled her eyes. "First, they talk of Castell's death, now about the natives? What's the point of such talks." She whispered under her breath, not understanding the conniving ways of the men she was listening to. Beside her, Jeanne frowned. The Scottish woman understood but wasn't sure if she would share the matter with her friend. While she cared deeply for Verity, there was no way for Jeanne to be sure that Verity wouldn't gossip or tell her husband, and Rutter knowing was much worse than gossip. Rutter would spit the information into everyone in Jamestown's ears and the sailors who docked themselves in his tavern.
"The men who make profit in this town want to rustle themselves in silk, but you look more like a barbarian every day, Sharrow." Farlow hissed. Jeanne snorted at that. There was no point in wearing silks in a place where dirt blew in on the winds, and the roads were paved in mud and shit. Jamestown was far too unclean a place for someone to dress finely. It's why George Yeardley never bothered to dress for his position. "If the Indians see what they know, they trust it. Trust is good for trade." Henry bit back, rubbing it in for both Farlow and Redwick that the Sharrow brothers had an influence with the Pamunkey, not the Virginia Company.
"Hey." Silas hissed as a last-ditch effort to pull his brother away.
"Be careful you don't grow too friendly with them, Sharrow," Redwick warned the leaving brothers, his eyes hard as he followed their backs. But the brothers ignored him, stepping outside of the storehouse. Silas spotted the women first, smiling at the sight of Verity and Jeanne. He was shocked to see them both waiting for him, unsure of why they were there. He felt a smile drop from his face for a second, worried that Alice might have sent them.
"Silas Sharrow, there you are, man." Verity teased, slapping his arm. "Get yourself home to your wife. She's waiting for you." At her words, Silas reached for the Irish woman, finding himself uneasy, praying it was good news. "With your child!" Verity beamed, her clarifying words making the man jolt forward, a grin overtaking his face.
"Is it a boy?" He asked curiously, excited over the prospect of a son, like any man would be.
"No, it's a painted maypole," Verity rolled her eyes, pushing him past her. "Get yourself home, you big lump!"
Silas released a loud, joyous cheer, clapping his hands together before taking off. He ran out of town towards the Sharrow plantation, where he knew his wife and new son would await him. Verity and Jeanne laughed at his reaction, proud of his excitement to be a father, and they could only hope that nothing came to squander those emotions. The women would pray for Alice and her child to live and be healthy. It was all anyone could ask for in these trying times.
"Is Alice well?"
Verity and Jeanne turned, their smiles dropping as they turned to face Henry, the eldest Sharrow looking down at them expectantly. They were in awe at his ego, and he felt he deserved an answer and expected to receive one. Jeanne stepped forward, her arms crossing over her chest and squaring up against the man.
"You are not worthy of knowing, Sharrow." Jeanne hissed, spitting down at the man's feet before spinning and walking away, Verity following, the Irish woman giving the man one last vile smirk over her shoulder. Verity boasted about how much fun it was to watch Jeanne put Henry in his place, and Jeanne very much enjoyed it, too. She was responsible for keeping Henry from Alice and the baby, knowing that now that the child had been born, Henry would be even more convinced that he was the father. It was the task she gave herself. Verity and Jeanne had discussed the matter in the past, agreeing that Henry would never be the father of Alice's child, nor should such a man father any child.
Verity sighed dramatically as they walked together through Jamestown, her eyes landing on the tavern. She knew Rutter was inside and, without a doubt, drunk. Jeanne had laughed, giving the woman a playful shove towards the establishment, which Verity was quick to shove back, tossing out an Irish curse in her friend's direction. Jeanne, meeting her friend's banter, threw one back in Scottish.
Once alone, Jeanne sighed peacefully, her eyes darting over the town. It had felt like months since she'd been here, even though it had only been days. She often avoided visiting, and the fear of running into her aunt and uncle and being scolded like a disrespectful child haunted her mind, yet she had to get it over and done with. Taking a deep breath, Jeanne made her way to the Yeardley residence, hoping to make the visit short and sweet. With Alice having just given birth, she might be able to use it as an excuse to get away earlier.
No longer a resident of the Yeardley home, Jeanne stood outside the house and knocked on the front door, waiting for someone, most likely Temperance, to welcome her. Her brows furrowed when no one came, settling on knocking again.
"Since when do you knock?" Farlow's voice reached Jeanne's ears, making the redhead turn. She smiled at the sight of him. "I thought you were accustomed to rudely wandering into people's homes."
"Only yours." She teased him, a small smile on her lips. Farlow returned the smirk, holding out his arm for her to take. Jeanne spared a look at the Yeardley residence, unsure if to continue waiting or take the offered arm. Seeing her predicament, Farlow quickly explained that neither of the Yeardleys were home. Temperance was seeing the newly widowed Jocelyn Castell and the Governor had gone to see Master Massinger. Accepting the answer, Jeanne stepped down from the small porch and took Farlow's arm, and the two strolled the dusty Jamestown roads. "Is there a reason you wished to walk?" She asked curiously.
Farlow smirked, his head held high as they passed the on-lookers, many of whom were residents of Jamestown who knew too well who Farlow and Jeanne were and the occasional sailor visiting from the port. "I have simply missed your company, my dear," He answered. "Ever since you moved out to that vulgar farmhouse, I have hardly seen you." Jeanne rolled her eyes at his words. Part of her wish was to interject, to scold the man for speaking so lowly of her friends and their home, but it was no use. Farlow was Farlow.
"If that farmhouse is vulgar to your eyes, I'm surprised the state of Jamestown hasn't made you flee back to London." Jeanne teased, peering at him through the corner of her eye.
"It's tried…" He retorted, a frown on his lips. Jeanne laughed, seeing the apparent distaste that he held for Jamestown. With Farlow's status and wealth, he would have lived on the more affluent side of London in a townhouse built from stone and brick with servants and many belongings. There, the streets weren't just dirt and mud but made with either crushed stone pebbles or large flat stones. The fact that he'd remained in Jamestown, which was pretty much the opposite of what he'd grown accustomed to, showed determination.
Jeanne eyed him carefully. "You're in an excellent mood today…" She spoke, her suspicions evident in her tone.
"I have good reason to be," Farlow teased, gazing at the woman. "With the sad passing of our dear Samuel Castell, his widow will be sent from Jamestown." No sooner had the words left his mouth, a large grin broke out across Jeanne's face, and the woman felt utterly giddy. An excited 'really?' had left her lips and Farlow chuckled. "Indeed." He confirmed. "Her home is Company property, and she has nowhere else to go unless she chooses to wed. Therefore, she must depart Jamestown on the next available ship bound for London."
Jeanne snickered. "And seeing as the current ship is docked at the port and scheduled to leave in two days?" She asked, leaning further into Farlow's arm.
"We shall be free of the meddling woman very soon." Farlow boasted lowly, just for Jeanne's ears alone. The thought had both Farlow and Redwick pleased. They were also happy that Samuel Castell was gone, neither having liked the Recorder's chosen loyalty to the Governor. When Jeanne had moved from the Yeardley home months ago, Redwick hadn't cared in the slightest, yet it had been Farlow who argued that the spilt in the relationship between Jeanne and the Governor could work in their favour. The Marshall grumbled at the idea but agreed only if Farlow could control the woman. "Now that the warmth has returned, will I see more of you again?" Farlow asked, eyeing the woman carefully. Jeanne nodded, making the man smile. He had truly missed her company. Farlow felt like there was no one else worthy of having a simple conversation with in Jamestown without her.
The pair had continued a slow walk around Jamestown, catching up on various topics that had occurred over the previous months since Jeanne moved outside of Jamestown. They hadn't even had time to sit in Farlow's parlour and drink while gossiping about the town's inhabitants.
"Would you do me a favour?" Jeanne asked, glancing up at Farlow.
"Depends," He teased, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
Jeanne just shook her head, knowing that despite his words, he would indeed do as she asked. "I need to head back to Alice. She gave birth to a son this morning, and I do not wish to be separated from her for long. Please explain to my aunt and uncle that I had stopped by to see them?" Farlow had stopped walking as he listened to Jeanne speak, turning the redhead to face him directly. There was an evident look of shock on his face as she explained that Alice Sharrow had given birth.
"A son?" He muttered, understanding what this birth meant for the people of Jamestown. It showed they could settle here and grow the small colony into something more. "Many congratulations to Alice and Silas Sharrow. May both mother and child be strong and healthy." Jeanne smiled, blessed by her friend's statement. "I will indeed inform our dear Governor and his wife about your intent to see them and as to why you couldn't stay."
Giving Farlow's hand a final squeeze, Jeanne departed from the man, giving him a small curtsy as she headed for the town gates. She was eager to return to her friend and assist however she could. Farlow watched her go, his gaze hardening. While the birth of Jamestown's first baby, and a boy no less, would be a joyous occasion for the populace, it also meant that more of the low class that looked to the Sharrows would idolise Silas further, something Farlow and Redwick feared. The Marshall needed a war with the Indians, the prospect meaning that land could be taken from the Pamunkey and resources procured to further line Company pockets. It was a win for Redwick and a win for Farlow. The only ones losing out would be the Pamunkey and those of Jamestown who stood against this progress.
It was late in the evening as The Sharrows and Jeanne sat around the outdoor campfire, enjoying the night air now that the lingering sun's heat of Spring had replaced the winter chills. Henry was off in town, drinking his sorrows away at Rutter's Tavern, something neither of their small group seemed to mind or care about. As long as the brooding man wasn't bothering Alice, that was what was necessary.
Alice sat closest to the fire, the need to keep her warm and ensure her health at the forefront of everyone's minds, and Pepper was to her right; they were both smiling at Silas, who was holding his infant son in his arms as he knelt to Alice's left, having just taken the babe from her. On the opposite side of the campfire, Jeanne sat, slowly prodding the fire with a long branch, ensuring it was well aerated to keep the fire going. Her gaze flicked to Silas when the man stood up, stepping off towards the farmland that Pepper had been preparing for seeding.
"Moon. Sky. Virginia." Silas whispered, flicking his gaze between his son and the sky above him. This is my son, and he belongs here." He smiled, gazing down at the babe cooing in his hands, reaching out with wiggling fingers. Silas had been enchanted the moment his eyes had landed on the infant, no doubt in his mind that the baby was born of his loins, not Henry's.
"I do believe the moon smiled upon him." Alice chuckled, standing up and taking brief steps towards her husband. Silas moved to meet her, kissing his son's head. Upon meeting her, Alice cupped Silas' cheek, turning his gaze to her. "God promised me a man such as you, Silas. This is why I came here."
Pepper and Jeanne watched as the couple shared a kiss, the moment a notion of romance that only could exist in fairy tales. It was sweet and perfect. But it also made Jeanne's gut churn. It had been nine months since she'd come to Jamestown now, and she'd only had a taste of what Silas and Alice shared, not that there hadn't been plenty of offers. Many of the men had tried to court her, a potential wife they didn't have to purchase through the Company, but Jeanne wanted what Alice had: a good man who loved her for her and whom she could love back. She frowned when Chacrow's face entered her mind. Jeanne had come to enjoy her time with the man, and even after months of one-sided pining, he hadn't stopped his advances. He wanted her for who she was, the woman he saw before him each time they met. It had nothing to do with status or wealth but simply because she was something different from the English and his own people.
Moving to stand, Jeanne brushed down her skirts, her actions gaining Pepper's attention. The boy enquired where she was going as she moved away from the campfire, heading around the back of the tiny home. "Use the privy." She whispered, causing the boy's ears to redden in embarrassment, and he ducked his head. Smiling at Pepper's fluster, Jeanne continued around the back of the home, moving behind the trees to give herself privacy.
Hitching up her skirts and squatting low, Jeanne quickly urinated while keeping her ears and eyes open. She knew not to let her guard down. When finished, she stood back up and brushed off her skirts again, ensuring the fabric covered her legs. As she went to head back to the campfire, she paused, the hairs on the back of her next prickling up. She was being watched. Her brows narrowed, and she slowly reached down, lifting her skirts and going for the knife hidden beneath the material.
Then she saw the flicker to the right of her face, movement in the trees stealthy enough not to move the leaves, yet only noticeable through the shifting moonlight.
"You better come out," She warned in a deep hiss yet still low enough for her not to alert the Sharrows. Jeanne's eyes tried to follow the direction the shadow had moved, her knife in hand, ready to defend herself. She didn't move a step, focusing on listening. She could hear Pepper and Silas speaking softly by the fire, yet that was all.
A squeal left her mouth, yet it was quickly muffed by a hand over her mouth as she was pulled backwards into someone's chest, a hand latching onto her right wrist, stopping her from manoeuvring the weapon to defend herself. She gripped the hand over her mouth with her free hand, trying to pull it away to scream, but the individual's grip was too strong, and they were slowly pulling her away, deeper into the woods. The panic began to set in, the house vanishing in the distance. Jeanne struggled, wiggling in their grip and fighting to break free.
"Jeanne…" They whispered her name, their accent making her freeze.
Jeanne scowled and went limp in Chacrow's hold. The moment he let go of her, she spun, shoving harshly at his chest with her free hand. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me?!" She hissed, quickly stowing away her knife. In the low light, she could see the large grin spreading across Chacrow's face, making her glare harder.
"It is good that you fight back and don't stop." He whispered, taking a few strides towards her. "But you need to break away…"
Jeanne rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the man's antics. "I did plan you jab your gut with my elbow." She admitted. Chacrow chuckled again, enjoying the remark. Her brows narrowed, staring hard at Chacrow as he stepped closer, bringing them chest to chest. She knew why he'd come, and part of her wanted to deny him the attention he craved from her, while the other half had missed him. Suddenly aware that it was just the two of them, alone and far from the Sharrow's cabin, Jeanne gave Chacrow a weak smile, muttering about how she needed to be returning to Alice and the Sharrow's
When she turned away, Chacrow reached out, grasping her hand and pulling her back to him, his fingers burning against her skin. Jeanne had spun into him, his arms wrapping around her middle as his mouth found hers. The kiss was heated, leaving Jeanne breathless. She melted into Chacrow's embrace, her hands resting on his bare chest. Jeanne pondered if this is how Alice felt every time Silas kissed her, to feel floating and adrift at sea, never longing to return to the shore. She hadn't wanted him to pull away, wanting the kiss to last just a minute longer.
"They will be missing you…" Chacrow whispered, his breath ghosting her lips. His hands were tighter on her waist, daring her not to leave, and Jeanne sank into it, needing more of this time alone with him. She knew this would happen, that a single taste of him wouldn't be enough.
"Let them…" She murmured, quickly closing the gap between them. As soon as their lips met again, she sighed, finding herself once more cast out to sea.