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Port Royal, Jamaica


sirhenrymorgan

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"Very well, Capitaine. We shall abide by her choice then...." Sabastian's words cease progress as he cocked head minutely to the left in concentration. Motioning for Sterling to stay quiet, he moved with stealth to the door; listening with one hand hovering over the knob. With flash of movement, combining two motions into to one, the door was thrown open and young boy retracted from post just outside wooden barrier.

Held tenatively by neck scruff, young Davis wiggled like shocked fish drawn from water safety to air above. Struggle ceased as he looked to Sterling with a bloom of color gracing rounded cheeks. Sabastian gave nonchalant inspection of capture then refocused on the Captain's expression. Seeing recognition play the other's eyes, boy was released.

"Well, it seems the guest list ever increases..." Sabastian chuckled with proffer of smallish bow. "I shall leave this matter to your discretion, non?"

Stepping into hallway's dim, Sabastian's low laugh echoed back to final chamber, disturbed only by footstep rythem towards stairwell existance.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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As the swarthy nobleman, left young Mr. Davis to explain himself to the good captain, Davis suddenly found himself trying to explain his actions.

"Captain Sterling sir..." Blurted Davis, as his hands suddenly began to flail and point while explaining himself. "I was just... Well I was told I should... Ahm that Mr. Reiley had suggested.... I mean sir, then he, I mean she wouldn't stop bloody crying and all... But not to desturbe less it be me ass for spyling.... But not that I was, though I was! But looking to your well-being sir.... So as not t'-desturbe........... Sir chamberpot! Sir!"

As he watched the sudden terror in the youngman's eyes, along with the tapestry of gibbrish that followed; Sterling wasn't sure if he should be cross or simply enjoy the youngman's desperate performance.

"Sir Chamberpot?" Thought Sterling.....

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"Sae, it's you back again, is it? Well, I'm in nae mind tae offer you any of my good Port this time, sae be off!"

I smiled at Professor Trilby, then put my booted foot in the doorway. "I'm not here for the Port."

"Then get your dirty boot off of mae doorstep." He attempted to slam the door on my foot.

I thrust out both hands, blocking it, thus sparing myself a broken toe. "Belay that, man, and let me speak." I pushed the door back. "I need your help."

"As if I would help the likes of you! Putting innocents adrift tae die."

"Yes, I put those men adrift. But you must admit, that was kinder than putting them to the sword, or leaving them marooned on some spit of sand."

"A good Christian would hae taken them aboard and brought them tae safety, not fired their ship and set them adrift with narry one water skin between the five of them."

I shrugged. "I never said I was a good Christian."

In his agitation, the turban, like a layered cake left in the sun, began to lean. When he paused to redjust it, I took the opportunity presented to shove the door back and enter his house.

"Yea have the devil's own nerve!" he sputtered.

Once again I shook my head at his bizarre speech, shifting from wild Scot to mannered Oxford Don and back to wild Scot. "What I have need of is a doctor. When I was last a guest here, I noticed your anatomy charts. Can you treat the injured?"

"I'll nae treat any of your thieving crew. If they die, then good riddance tae them."

"The man is not a member of my crew. Nor did my crew cause his injuries. He is a nobleman, and will no doubt pay you quite handsomely for your services." I wondered just how long I could prevaricate. I had to get Trilby to the Rakehell before revealing the identity of his patient. But if Trilby had the nature of most men trained in healing, I suspected that when he saw the brand on Killingsworht's chest, his hatred for the man would be put aside. At least until Killingsworth was well enough to hang.

Trilby's sharp blue eyes bored into mine. "This had better be nae trick."

"I promise you, it's not a trick. The man has been beaten and clubbed in the head. And...he has another, more serious injury that needs tending. Will you come?"

"If I do, you'll promise nae tae shanghai me nor my servant boy?"

Inwardly I shivered at the thought of Professor Trilby pressed into service aboard the Rakehell. It would be like making the devil a crew member. "I promise. Once you have treated the man, you and your servant will be free to go."

He studied me a moment, then nodded. "Very well, then. Give me a minute tae collect mae things." He turned abruptly and headed for the room I knew to be his study. "Souris! God's teeth, where are you? Get mae medical case, blast you. We've a paying customer waiting."

...schooners, islands, and maroons

and buccaneers and buried gold...

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You can do everything right, strictly according to procedure, on the ocean, and it'll still kill you. But if you're a good navigator, a least you'll know where you were when you died.......From The Ship Killer by Justin Scott.

"Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful."....Captain Jack Sparrow

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Sabastian stepped from incline to foyer's level ground and paused further progress as a glimmer of pale blue framed in soft daylight caught his eye. Not being cruel at heart, he felt a pang of sympathy for the lone woman at window's side. What had been viewed in not overlong ago past was a contrast of day and night in comparrison to the now. The proud and defient stature but a shadow of former self cast in an aura of defused afternoon sun.Conscience of the fact that she might turn away and glimpse his slight vouyeristic placement, Sabastian moved onward to the kitchen.

At entrance archway, he found another semi-familiar face and there seemed more to the familliarity that could not quite be narrowed down at current time. Bent hard to task, Reiley continued assult of pistol to mortor concave, seemingly unawares of the other's looming until glance was cast towards parlor and occupant. Noting that the view expected was not what was presented, cylindrical shaft slowed to stop. The two watched each other curiously for a moment, before Sabastian moved into room's boundries with a nod of greeting then on to a dim alcove beyond.

A few minutes passed then he returned bearing a nondescript bottle which was placed on table's surface. Retrieving two pewter tankards from cabinet keeping, both were filled with bottle's amber content and one offered to Reiley. Sabastian sampled aged amber fire and smiled with relish at it's warming, while watching the other with veiled interest. Reiley's recognition flitted just out of grasp, but Sabastian knew it was only a matter of time before all would settle into alignment and bring forth the enigma's banishment.

Sitting down with liesurly manner, gitan glanced to kitchen entrance then back to the other man, "I might suggest a serving of skull cap tea with a drop or more of honey to aid madame's nerves....Or perhaps chamomile. Either would suite, thought the chamomile is more pleasent to the taste. Both are in containers directly behind where you stand."

His attention was drawn to near windows and the visage of younger sibling in conversation with Christophe in the clearing just beyond. Sabastian stood and begged leave of current company, aged bottle moved to where Reiley worked. Mischievous glint played Sabastian's eyes as he inclined chin towards bottle placement, " Partake in as much as you desire, Monsuier. But, be warned that though it is pleasing to the senses...Overmuch of its' enchantment will assult the very same, at a later time..."

Advice given, Sabastian left for outdoor vista.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Lilly heard someone pass the parlor doorway. It was only a glimpse of the figure, the air washed with the color of wool and leather. She moved forward in her seat to look closer, as if to strain herself forward to peer around the corner. It was then Sebastian entered the room. With another deep sigh was released, she drew herself to look out the window again. This was all too painful. The waiting and the unknown outcome made her uneasy. It wasn’t like her to sit still. It had never been her way. She could remember on more than one occasion that the Empress would scold her and tell her that she needed to learn patience. Now, she regretted not being more so with her heart. She looked over at the good doctor and Sebastian listening briefly to their conversation. Her name was mentioned and so was her state of mind. It was all brought forth by her want, her desire for him and his happiness

In pondering thought, it was easy to fall for such a man as Captain Sterling. Put aside the facts of where he came from, his position, power and class, he was a man with a loyal heart. He always struck forth with good intension and always heard people out. Lilly bit her lip and suddenly the tears began to flow again. Would he hear her out? Would he listen to her tale? She quickly looked over at the two men to see if they had noticed her emotion outbreak. The Captain may have grown tired of her antics and now, of her. She was no longer as young as she was when she entered into the position of courtesan.

There was a time she would capture men’s hearts as well as their purses. It was then she she looked over again and saw both men looking at her. She quickly wiped her tears away and sat up straight in her window seat. “May I see him now?” She said in a low soft voice.

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"Thanks to you mate!" agreed Reiley, as the young master offered him the drink. "I'm much abliged..."

"Glad to see he dosn't hold a grudge..." Thought Reiley as he took a long and much needed pull from his tankard.

However as he finished his drink and lowered said vessel, he was surprised to find Captain Sterling and the young Mr. Davis standing at the door of the kitchen.

"Captain?" Asked Reiley, as he looked for signs of dementia, disorientation or any other symptom which would cause the good captain to rise from bed.

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No rest for the wicked! Wait a minute... that's me?!

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Liam spun me about and placed his hand over my mouth as the sailor continued to speak with the lady in blonde before us. Dragging me around the corner from The Ship Inn, I shove his hand from my mouth. "Wot now?" "You need t' watch yer mouth 'round 'ere" he says to me. Pointing his finger in my face, he continues, "'f we 'r t' g't any sorts o' coin wiffout killin' a man, YOU need t' be merr r'spectful o' th' ladies, 'specially th' rich ones." He drops his finger and winks. "Now c'me on, let's g't a bit o' brekkie and a drink."

The day in Port Royal been bristling for some time as Liam and I walked past the produce market. As he spoke with one of the market keepers, I placed a few fruits behind my back and walked away backwards and slowly so as Liam could still see me. As we reached the old church, we sat in the shade of the stifling heat and ate the ill gotten fruits. Looking across the way at a building that could only hold royalty or the King himself our minds start to wander. "A drink 'd shurr be nice." "Aye," agreed my brother, " an' a few merr shillins'." "Aye. A lot merr. Wot ye tink they gots 'n therr Liam?" I ask pointing at the large structure. "A few merr shillins'" he returns quickly punching my shoulder. Laughing, we wipe the juice from our faces, rise from our spot of shade and inquire about the townsfolk for the nearest pub.

Titim gan éirí ort.

There are many forms of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the boundaries into true corruption, into our domain.

Come now, you rich, weep and howl for your miseries that are coming upon you! Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver are corroded, and their corrosion will be a witness against you and will eat your flesh like fire. James 5:1-3

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Striker decided to sit down for a bit , he could feel his feet swallowing and acheing from all the walking in his new bought shoes .

He walked over to a table near by the sitting woman and the scruffy looking man standing next to her . Striker Sat down by the table and took out his pouch with tobacco and his pipe , and started to prepare the pipe for smoking.

From the corners of his eyes he saw two men , twins apparently , dressed in raggy clothes behaving in some what suspicious manner , one of the man turned the other around and placed a hand before the other's mouth while dragging him around the corner .

Striker prepared himself for trouble , he had remembered to put his back against the wall and to have as many chairs , patrons and other guests as possible in front of himself not to mention on his left side as well so it would be hard to get to him.

He could hear that the attractive blond was annoyed by the man standing next to her.. The man was obviously trying to avoid the woman's eye contact

The tavern girl came over and asked him for his order. "A glass of port and some fire for my tobbaco , please" he answered her , while he watched the blond.

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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he was surprised to find Captain Sterling and the young Mr. Davis standing at the door of the kitchen.

"Captain?" Asked Reiley, as he looked for signs of dementia, disorientation or any other symptom which would cause the good captain to rise from bed.

Sterling gave a gently prod to young Davis's shoulder, pushing the lad into the room. He tried not to smile as the boy lurched forward before stopping and smiling sheepishly at the doctor.

"Found him outside my keyhole," Sterling said covering his grin with a stern frown as he turned his gaze upon Reiley. "Ask what ye will Doctor. Ye have no need to be spyin on me." The captain grimaced slightly as he adjusted his left arm, the makeshift sling all too uncomfortable. "Now if ye be excusin me, I think I needs be heading back to my bunk," he added, swaying somewhat as he turned. "When ye the chance, Doctor, will ye be so kind as to ask Mistress Devareaux to send up her choice and Mistress McKinney.... and something fer my head...tis pounding."


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

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"Aye Sir." Replied Reiley, with a nod and a grin. "I've just the physic you'll be needing."

Then as the good captain returned to his room, "I'll be having to show you a thing or two about about the trade." He nodded to the red-faced Davis. "But for now... be a good lad and finish up here, whilst I find Mistress Devareaux."

Perhaps it was the tears or the even the danger which he knew the young actress was facing. But as Reiley awkwardly found himself restraining a compassionate hand from touching the mistress's shoulder, he quickly donned his jacket and straightening himself.

"Is there anything I can do for you Mistress? Anything you might be needing before I go?" Asked Reiley, as he caught young Mr. Davis watching his restrained attempt at compassion, then quickly return to his physic preperation. "Very well then, young Mr. Davis, will see to you if you need anything."

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No rest for the wicked! Wait a minute... that's me?!

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The square had been drawn and the frontlines established within front clearing boundries. Those who had working in proximity found it best to find placement elsewhere as Frenchman and Roma faced each other with tense posturing. The weapons of choice drawn were of verbal sharpness, the tone ranging from just above whisper to full force gale in quickened segue mixture of Basque, French and Romani tongues.

Christophe stood ridgid, arms crossed over chest; slate hued eyes narrowed slightly as Aurore glared at him in return; delicate chin pitched upward in defient tilt. The viscious nature of spoken exchange went lost in translation upon most in the cottage's immediate area. Delaney and Franklin had taken safe haven near equine brethren; bits an pieces of verbose fugue gleened betwixt the two and neither would have exchanged places with the Frenchman for all the gold in Spanish coffers. The only comment made lowly, made hazed comparisson to cats having out in night shrouded alleyways.

As suddenly as it had begun, the storm passed over; leaving in its' wake an ambiance of disconcerting nature. Spent emotions of high intensity hung the air heavily, the silence which took over reminescent of catacomb oppressiveness. Those on the fringe waited with nervous anticipation for the next viscious round that never came.

As the cottage's front portal swung open, showing the shaded form of Doctor Reiley in its' maw, Christophe strode away from where Aurore remained; fury still playing aqualin features. She kept stance, eyes never wavering from original train of focus, though object no loger blocked greenery view.

The sound of Reiley's hesitant step to dirt surface drew her attention. Aurore carefully composed herself, presenting a farce to what brewed beneath calculated offering of expression. She turned in acknowledgement to his approach, all signs of what occured just moments before wiped away from delicate features, but for the fire that smoldered deeply within the windows of her soul....

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Mistress Lilly watched the Doctor step out of the room in search of the young mistress. She glanced over at Sabastian and gave him a very weak smile. He nodded softly to her as if to assure her of no harm or wrong doing. The mood of the room was turning. She had lost track of time now and the sun slowly was dipping into the afternoon sky. She looked towards the stairwell once more hoping that the Captain would give her some peace to her troubled heart.

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Sterling made his way back to the bedroom, hurting both phyiscally and mentally regarding the talk that was about to take place. He was not looking forward to it and did not know how to handle it well at all. For a moment he wished Cate was here to guide him, and yet, he sighed and realized she would be the next person he needed to deal with, a letter would have to suffice for now...My God, would his life always be so complicated and his time so short and filled with so many tasks that needed tending to?

He climbed back beneath the covers and wished he could remove the sling and chuck it across the room. Being shot was the last thing he needed now. He fell back amongst the pillows and sat up sharply, the pain shooting through his form... the second time around, he eased himself gently onto his side and felt the silk scarf under his hand as he tried to relax. He pulled it out from under him and looked the fine piece of fabric over. How easy it would be just to leave this on Aurore's pillow. Could life truly be that simple? With a sigh, he folded the item as best he could with one hand and then tucked it under his pillow. Perhaps soon he could work up the nerve to offer it to her.... For now, he could only wait until Aurore made up her mind and Reiley escorted both people up to the bed chamber. He hoped his mind was clear enough to make the proper decisions.....


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

http://creweofthearchangel.wordpress.com/

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My name is Jack Roberts." Trying to remember what I have seen others do when in the presence of such a class. "I heard your call yesterday down by the docks."

Lady St. Claire looked over at the man who stood before her. “Jack, is it?” She said with a smile. “I have all ready obtained my need for a hired hand, thank yee. If yee are looking for work, I fear I do not need more than one man to suit me as of the moment. Go back to the docks with thee.” She watched the man’s face fall as she turned back to the two twins making a bit of ruckus in the tavern. Their boisterous tones carried out unto the streets. It was then the man cleared his throat once more and whispered in a low tone. “I think I can obtain something that ye been looking for. A certain person of interest to you, Lady. For the right price, he can be obtained within the evening.”

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“I think I can obtain something that ye been looking for. A certain person of interest to you, Lady. For the right price, he can be obtained within the evening.”

I looked about the room eyeing the patrons. I see a man, with smoke bellowing around him, paying attention to us. I steal myself back to the current situation and add, “I believe a mister Killingsworth would interest you?” There I was throwing myself into another ridiculous situation. I hoped to grab some decent coin out of this. I certainly hope so.

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"Ye know of his whereabouts, then?" She said looking somewhat flustered. She couldn't believe her luck. How could Killingsworth elude her for almost two days, and yet end up back in her lap before the day was done. "Very well...if you do know of him and his whereabouts, describe him to me." She wasn't going to be swindled out of her cash that easily. She watched the young man fidget a bit upon her request. "Come now...I am sure if you tell the truth, you will also be able to tell me why he hasn't been back to his apartments here at the Inn." She smiled to herself. By God, She thought to herself. I am witty!

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“Descirbe him?” I thought, “oh great,” I don’t really know where he is much less know what the man looks like.

“Well,” pausing for a moment, “He is being held captive abroad a ship here in the harbor.” Lying through my teeth. Well mot really lying, I mean I saw what I saw but whose to say. “and he was beaten about the face a bit and was hard to make out any real features.” Boy I hope that was convincing. I glanced over and was the smoking man still watching. Lets see what this lady has to offer.

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Ian an I speak to a handfull of townsfolk, well, the ones who don't shy away from us first. We find that the establishment we had walked behind earlier, The Shipp Inn would suit us well. However we kept finding our way back to that fine looking big house we had breakfast across from. My curiosity, an Ian's as well were drawing us back to the place. "Ye tink anyone be ome, brudder? Looks quite empty er yer thing we should wait til the night?" Ian puts his hand to his chin. "Hummm . . . . We should wait to be sure nay a soul is home." I nod to him. "Aye yur right . . . " So we head back over to the Shipp Inn and see what they have for us to drink.

Titim gan éirí ort.

Go mbeire an diabhal leis thú

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be.

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“I believe a mister Killingsworth would interest you?”

Killingsworth , the name rang through Striker's head , what did the man Called Jack know about him ?

Striker tried to stay calm because he could see that "Jack" has noticed him.

Another thought fell upon Striker what did the woman want with Killingsworth ?

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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Mistress Lilly watched the Doctor step out of the room in search of the young mistress.  She glanced over at Sabastian and gave him a very weak smile.  He nodded softly to her as if to assure her of no harm or wrong doing.  The mood of the room was turning.  She had lost track of time now and the sun slowly was dipping into the afternoon sky.  She looked towards the stairwell once more hoping that the Captain would give her some peace to her trouble heart.

Reaching to a small ornate box atop near table, Sabastian withdrew a oddly carved pipe and pouch of tobbacco. The bowl was packed and fired, the sweet pungent scent rising to color the air. Drawing deeply, his dark eyes regarded the Mistress politely while his mind picked over the current situation. He had never stirred from chair's deep cushion comfort during the upheaval that raged outside; semi muffled accuisations invadeing stone intersanctum. This would not be the first confrontation to exist betwixt sister and friend...nor, he doubted, would it be the last.

Sabastian was well aware of Christophe's regard for younger sibling, and had always held it a curiosity as to why the Frenchman never breeched the subject. For years the flame had been carried without announcment, but Beggar Prince had an inkling suspicion as to reasons of silence. Line of thought paused, circling suspected hurdle.

It could never be said that Aurore and Sabastian carried no love for their older brother. It was Andre's well placed choices that had taken them from danger after the slaughter of parents and another sibling. But as much loyalty, as much devotion both showered upon the Eldest, the fact remained that he continued to lay rigid within the dogma's of their culture. The only exceptions made begrudgingly, were that in regard to current standings. Oh granted, they had always "peddled their wares" to the Gentry, but now it was on more equal grounds.

If any snide slur was made in regard to what they were, it had been carefully whispered and not allowed to reach the awareness of Le Cour. Here in Jamaica, a lush spit of land surrounded by liquid borders of blue and green, they had raised themselves to rule secretivly; catering to the desires of the wealthy and those not so. Le Cour des Grand Corbeau prospered, and the whims of tropical denizines were sated.

Nevertheless, they were the only three of their kind and Sabastian had stepped outside of the traditional doctrins, hesitantly at first, due to that fact. No Roma wife would be found here, no vargos traversed the dusty byways of contained land and Sabastian had adjusted...Andre' had not. That factor had been the cause of many conflicts as the years rolled slowly by under tropical sun. God above must have decided to lay blessings upon the two younger siblings. Andre' had not been home in days, deciding to stay in the Port keeping attentive eye on buisness matters. Normally, his presence would be missed...This time, it was a relief.

Movement caught Sabastian's peripheral sight, drawing him away from deep musings. He looked to Parlor entrance just in time to glimpse Megan flit past. Calling softly brought her back to arched portal, where she hovered nervously trading glances between Gitan and Lady therein. He motioned Megan near, smiling warm assurance, "Petit, it is to my thinking that perhaps Madame may desire some tea as aid to her comfort."

Frightened mouse watched expensively adorned visitor with uncertainty as Sabastian spoke in soothing manner, "Chamomile would suite nicely, s'il vous plait."

Young girl nodded, in turn was rewarded by a wider smile and peck on rounded cheek, "Merci beaucoup, Petit."

With Megan's departure, Sabastian refocused upon Lilly, "Tell me, Madame...if I am not being overbold in my actions. It has come to my knowing that you are a daughter of the Theater. It seems a rather interesting choice to me. Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me further on such while we await tea's preperations?"

Sabastian's manner radiated charm and sincerity with his inquery. It was an effort to draw Lilly's mind away from current state and substitute it with distractions placing her more at ease.

O shoshoy kaste si feri yek khiv sigo athadjol.~Romani Proverb

Celui qui ne sait pas se taire sait rerement bien parler.~Pierre Charron

Attention! All formats of plot and characterizations produced under the monikers "Aurore Devareaux" or "Tempest Fitzgerald" are protected under the statutes of Copyright law. All Rights Reserved. F.T.M.

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Sabastian's manner radiated charm and sincerity with his inquery. It was an effort to draw Lilly's mind away from current state and substitute it with distractions placing her more at ease.

She could only smile at his words. She was no fool. Sabastian’s kind attempt of trying to make light of the situation did not go unnoticed. “Oh yes,” she said looking over at him as he smoked his pipe. “The theater. I have played at both the Royal and the Duke’s theater in London. My performances started small, of course, but soon I took the lead…I played such wonderful ladies as Desdemona and Lady Macbeth. The King himself told me that I was ‘quite entertaining’, but I am sure he met my other performances behind bedroom door.”

It was then Sabastain’s face acknowledged the small hint of innuendo she offered him. He clearly cleared his throat and shifted position in his chair. She lent forward and looked at him. “Come now, I have only stated what we both know is the truth. I know who I am and where I came from. There is no shame in that.” It was then she went quite as she heard voices from the courtyard. “We all wish to be happy in life, don’t we?” She then turned and looked at him directly. His dark eyes were full and attentive to her movement. “Love is fluid, like the great ocean my sweet Captain sails upon. You can either stay a float or drown in its’ mass bottomless depths. In this vast ocean of life we live in, I fear at this very moment I am drowning, sir…and there is no hope for myself or my son.”

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Lets see what this lady has to offer.

“I shall make myself very clear, Jack.” Said Lady Tess as she lent forward and whispered to him. “Bring Reggie Killingsworth back here to the Ship Inn and I promise you that you will be well rewarded. Let us say, 20 guineas?” She watched the man’s face brighten at the price. “I see by the expression upon your face that is an agreeable sum to you.” She quickly stood up and gave him a half a crown. “Make sure you bring him through the kitchen’s entrance up the back stairwell. My room is the last one at the end of the hall. I shall mark it with a flower. Now, do as you are told and remember what I have said!” The man looked down at the coin in his hand. “Do not fail me, Jack. You do not wish to cross me. You will be very sorry if you do.”

It was then she walked away and passed the young Captain smoking his pipe. He looked over at her and gestured a nod of greeting. Then Tess St. Claire walked up the stairs back to her room leaving Jack to start thinking hard about how he was going to retrieve the injured man.

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“Bloody Hell!” Killingsworth shouted out. “Can’t you sss-ssee I’m in pain?!” And with that he through his tankard across the room. The ship’s crewman who was attending him tried his best to make him comfortable, but it seemed to be of little use. “Where isss-ss that damn cutter that I was promises-sssed?!” The man withdrew from Killingsworth’s side and looked up at him. “The Captain has sent for him. We do expect him quite shortly. In the meantime, I’ve been sent to help and …” Killingsworth cut him off him mid-sentence. “You’ve been sss-ssent to kill me!” Killingsworth buried his head in his hands. “God, I am a fool…” “Sir?” Whispered the crewman. “Never mind you! Get out! Just leave me be and don’t bother coming back unless-ss you have food or the cutter with you!”

The crewman withdrew from the small room, locking the door behind him. With a deep sigh Killingsworth fell back into his pillow and looked up at the beams above his bed. “Darnly will only think the worst of me right now.” He muttered to himself. “ I have no idea where Mistresss-sss Lilly has gone and as for killing Captain Sss-ssterling; I can only hope he hass-ss perished leaving Lilly as vulnerable as a little kitten.” He slowly moved his hand over his blackened eye and then over the blistering mass upon his chest. “Mad men all of them!” He shouted out loud. He looked about the room to see if there was some place he could escape to, but there was only one door. “God?” He said looking up at the beams of the ceiling. “Remember that favor I asss-sssked of you earlier? Now, would be a good time!”

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Allow me to be frank at the commencement; You will not like me...™

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Early upon her arrival Lady Tess St. Claire was told that Reginald Killingsworth’s lodgings were next to hers. She floated down the dimly lit hallway to the door next to hers. First, she listened to the door just to make sure she wasn’t entering a room that was already occupied. Then, from her hair she took a pin and picked to lock to obtain access to his room.

Never mind the fact that she learned that little trick while she was carousing with those of lesser station than she near Rose Alley back in London. She was of the belief that everyone, no matter who they were, could easily climb the ladder as well as fall from it. She never forgot who she was or where she came from, but life deals an unfair hand to those even with wealth.

She pushed the door open and quickly found a candle and lit it. The room was left clean and straight. The bed had been made and Killingsworth’s items were still where he left them. It was then she began her search. From books to draws, to writing table to pockets; Tess searched the room for any evidence of Killingsworth’s business. With a sigh she threw her hands up in the air and then threw her head back in anguish. “Oh! How could I have come this far and not fine anything of …” As she opened her eyes she suddenly saw something neatly thrown up into the rafters of the room. There was a sack resting between two beams.

“Hello?” She muttered as she quickly grabbed the desk chair and pulled it to the middle of the room. Gingerly, she stood very still upon the chair and pulled down the sack. She jumped off the chair and quickly untied the sack to find several pieces of clothing drenched in blood. She first looked at the items is shock and horror. The rumors were true. It was Killingsworth who killed Molly. Tess refused to let fear take her over. She quickly placed the blood stained clothes back in the sack and placed the sack back where she found it. As she placed the chair back under the writing desk she realized that her assignment had now became a more deadly challenge. Darnly had no idea that the man he sent to recapture his lovely Lilly had murdered a woman. As far as Tess saw it…this changed to rules. Tess quickly blew out the candle and snuck out of the room before anyone saw her in there.

As Tess quickly entered her own lodgings she let out a sigh. “Why did he have to do such a thing?!” She murmured to herself. She walked to the window and looked out to the street below. “God help me, but for those involve I pray I have the strength to do what I must do.”

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Striker heard each and every of the blond mistress' words ,even though she was trying to whisper as softly as possible. The racket of people talking and eating forced her to speak loud enough so that Striker at the nearby table could hear her murmur .

20 guineas ... was a more then generous price of bringing the alleged beaten snake called Killingsworth to her .

The blond stood up and went by Striker , her eyes gazing into his .

Striker felt forced to look away but was strangely fixed upon her blue coloured Iris , it was as if the sirens were singing to him , charming him towards her.

The only thing he did was nod at her and fell how the warmth moved towards his cheeks and noticed that his heart was pumping as if a 100 mares were riding it.

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always surrounded by shadows , always in the shadow. A spectre he be !

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