Port Royal, Jamaica

[Aurore Devareaux]

Devon stiffled a laugh and leaned near, "Sounds like open flame an'na powder keg ta me own self. An' ya be wantin' aul Seth in yer midst...."

The Irishman shrugged then went to the bar. Momments later, an older gentleman appeared with portly stature and jovial good natured features. They dissapeared into the back for a short passing of time, then Devon rejoined Sterling.

"Tha Aul Fellar says tis no' a problem an' all will be secured an' ready in two hours time. Anythin' else?"

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling shook his head. In mid-motion shake turned to nod. "There is a broach, garnet and topaz in the local jeweler by the mantua maker. I would be grateful if ye would be so kind as to make the purchase for me. I must be getting back to the docks. I am certain my boat has been waiting there to take me out to the 'Angel for neigh on an hour or more."

Quickly he passed over the necessary coin and bowed to Burke before both men headed once more out into the damp early night. Sterling looked above, by the time he brought her to the ship, if Aurore was so willing, the skies would be clear and the stars would grace the heavens for her alone. Then they parted company.

The captain broke into a slow jog, making his way down one street and then another until buildings soon ceased and the land gave way to the ocean. He skidded to a halt, his eyes quicky moving over the horizon of masts and yards of dozens of ships, but it did not take him long to find her. Anchored now at a distance from the others, where no one could come upon her without notice, a place where both she and Aurore could be safe, rocked gently with subtle wave upon wave, The Archangel. Every time he saw her, she took his breath away. He took a moment longer, content just to stare. Soon he would be making his way home, but first...

"I know ye can hear me, ye old goat. Please come tonight. It would do me an honour to have ye present," Sterling said out loud. A woman passing, shot him an odd look and side stepped away from him. Sterling chuckled, a grunt was all the reply he got and then he hurried down to the docks to find Bosun Dogge and several crewmen of the 'Angel waiting about. Andrew March joined them as Sterling approached. The first officer bowed, partly. His action interupted by the appearance of his captain.

"Should I be askin?" March said, giving his captain a once over.

Sterling shook his head, "No, you should not," he said and made his way into the ship's boat. "Come along gents... I am in a hurry."

[Aurore Devareaux]

**

[Ransom]

I grinned at his dramatic exit. "No, Sir. I imply nothing. I have already placed myself at your mercy by revealing what I have to offer. Should I walk away, you could still do me damage. It is you, sir, who have the upper hand. Let us be good business partners, and see what we shall see?"

Sabastian paused as he neared the arched entrance to corridor beyond. The mischievous smirk played over his features with challenge as he extended a hand at arm's length in her direction.

I stared at the hand offered, hesitating, wondering. Was it merely business, or something more? The smirk was another challenge, but the outstretched hand was something else. Common sense told me to rebuff the offer, keep everything as simple and detached as possible. But the glitter of dark eyes sent other thoughts racing through my mind, and they had nothing to do with cargo, or business arrangements.

Hesitantly, I stepped forward, "I am at your mercy, sir," and held out my hand in return.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian took her proffered hand, the smile deepening. Gently, he drew Ransom forward, "Mercy is a many faceted thing, cherie..."

Then she was released as he backed into the darkness just beyond archway.

"Very well, ma petit colombe...I have other buisness to attend this night that cannot wait, so this is what I suggest." He leaned outward of the arch, fixing her with impish glint, "There is a cove to the western side of this island, it is hidden but, not overly so....and deep enough for you to secure the vessel safely. Follow the coast and I will send one to signal you by storm lamp indicating its' where abouts. Be there near nine of the clock on the morrows eve and we shall see what there is to see."

Back into the corridor he ducked, words trailing back to her hearing with odd echos. "Do not play me foul, Mademoiselle...It would be most unwise."

The sound of rear door opening danced the silence, "Adieu, Petit...."

And the reverberation of entrance closure played to no one's hearing but her own.

[Ransom]

He was gone so quickly that I hardly had time for breath, but the touch of our fingers, brief though they were, sent a warmth through me that I could not ignore.

"Take care, Ransom," I whispered to myself. "This could prove more dangerous than you at first feared.

As his shadowy figure melded with the darkness, I called out softely, "I will be there."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The horses were re-claimed and the gathering of phantoms dispersed to various directions. Nothing was discussed betwixt Christophe and Sabastian as they returned to the Rookery. Matters of such buisness would not be aired in the lacking securities offered by High Street, but would wait until chamber with red velvet trappings was gained.

Turning toward final destination, Sabastian smiled without conscious thought as he recalled the young woman showing such spirit. Most men did not do as well under similar situations. His curiosity was piqued, but as most of his blood did, Life was taken a day at a time in the overall.

Whatever would be, would be...

[Capt. Sterling]

He had been bathed, shaved, combed, and fussed over by Symms for nearly an hour. He would have been better with a bit of sleep and something simple to eat. Wounds attended and redressed it was time he was as well. Clocked white stockings and worn but well polished shoes and buckles were quickly shined once more with a pass of the old steward’s elbow.

“Here, give me those,” Sterling growled as Symms attempted to place one foot into long white silk. The old man looked up from his position on knees, hand with stocking paused.

“Intend to do it yerself do ye? And how with that bum arm of yers?”

“There is nothing wrong with my arm, tis my shoulder and back,” Sterling said snatching the stocking from the old man’s hands with mock annoyance which quickly turned to childish grin with his success.

Symms rocked back to rest upon his heels as lord and master tried valiantly to dress himself.

“Stubborn ye are,” Symms said snatching back the item and continuing where he left off. “Sorry I am fer that young lass. To be puttin up with the likes of ye fer the rest of her life,” the steward chided.

Sterling slunk down in chair, arms crossed casually in front of his chest as the old man continued on his usual rant. With ribbon garters set with bows finally meeting approval, burgundy wool breeches and heavy waistcoat of silver cloth was also put into place.

“Sorry for Mistress Devareaux?” Sterling said then yelped as his own hair was tugged unmercifully with horn comb.

“Aye that I do,” Symms muttered. “Ye could do with a bit of a curl.”

“No!”

“Here, I’ve just the thing,!” The old man remarked hunting down a length of silk narrowswear. “A love lock fer yer lady.” And the ribbon was fixed at the end of several tresses as Sterling rolled his eyes.

“Well then I am glad ye approve,” Sterling said as burgundy coat laced in silver was slipped with gentle caution over damaged torso.

Symms continued to brush invisible objects from coat’s sleeves as Sterling tried to get away from him.

“Easy to approve of one that truly cares fer ye,” Symms said, the captain’s hat, gloves and sword now ready.

Sterling paused.

“Tis an unfair thing for ye to say about Mistress McKinney,” Sterling said.

“I am entitled to my opinion, Sir,” Symms replied, setting the waist carriage buckle. “And with this new lady, I think we both can be happy. There!” the steward added as he stepped back. “Tis about time ye had a reason to wear that suit. Tis a fine gift from the Empress. Mistress Grey truly knows a well cut cote.”

[Aurore Devareaux]

The dress was similar to that which shrouded Molly Shea in earthy tomb. Both of deep green hue, both carefully beaded with hand sewn pearls, both crafted by the same woman of Italian origins and commisioned by the same man. Aurore choose this one over all the other in her possession for multiple reasons, the bodice and sleeves were interwoven with embroidered roses of deepest red against emerald silk, and red was considered a color of good luck amongst the Rom. She wore it in appreciation of her brother's love, for it was he that had it made for her as a gift....And she wore it in homage of its' near twin that would never be seen worn on a day as today.

Tortise shell combs were layed into place, barely noticable within the thick tress of russet hue that they kept in place. Aurore glanced into the mirror to Sabastian's reflection as he sat on bed's edge watching with approving eye. Her heart was light with the event to come, though a tinge of saddness lay at its' edges as she thought of how Molly should have had this day before she, herself did.

Sibling left bed's comfortable surface, coming near to aid in the interweave of seed pearl strand amidst russet backdrop. A kiss was placed on exposed shoulder before he turned her about for final survey.

Sabastian tapped his chin in consideration, "Something is missing..."

He walked around her, careful not to step upon the legnth of silk that lay abaft on oriental rug below. Twice more Sabastian circled, then brought himself up short as if in sudden remeberance. From velvet pocket, pendant was withdrawn and held up for her observation. The warm glow of lamp lumination caressed the oblong emerald courted by a ring of diamonds and Aurore's eyes grew wide to its' showing.

"But 'Bastian....That was to be Molly's...."

He tsked while reaching about, clasping it into place around sister's slender neck.

"And I know that she would have wanted you to be its' bearer now...."

Aurore turned to view how it laid midway her breast bone, eyes misting as the light played faceted surfaces. Sabastian drew her near, dabbing her cheeks with produced linen square and speaking with soothing tone.

"Non, cher Renard....No tears from you less they be those of joy."

Encircling her in loving embrace, he whispered to near hearing, " The carriage is at ready, sweet one. It is time to go...Remember this always, no matter the circumstance...or what life causes on the road ahead, you will always be the true bearer of my heart and the dearest thing I will ever cherish." He drew away slowly, almost hesitantly.

Taking Aurore's hand gently into his own, Sabastian lead her from chamber to those waiting below.

[Capt. Sterling]

He had gone down to see the master of the house. Mr. Browne smiled as he handed over the broach Devon Burke had delivered earlier on. Unwrapped it was examined then carefully tucked into pocket for future use. Sterling knew it was nothing special but twas all he could afford as a special token…and yet he knew she would smile and wear it for him at the church.

“Thank ye,” Sterling said turning to leave.

“Good luck, Sir,” Browne said with a grin. Sterling looked back, with a nod and a bow of thanks.

“The best of luck to ye both.”

He made his way now through the night crowd, threading around the boisterous, thirsty and hungry, until he made the back room. The door left close, was now set ajar and he could hear March’s thick accent finishing up introductions. As he made his way into the room he saw Skittles smile at him, she offered a slight lift of her chin toward the circle of men in the far corner. “God’s blessings on you both,“ she whispered in Norwegian as he passed…one of the few phrases he had actually managed to conquer in her native tongue.

The Archangel’s navigator, Peter Straw, bowed as his captain entered then shut the door behind him. Sterling looked over the ship’s often times makeshift Chaplin, bible in Straw’s hand, the captain’s small sword and a broom crossed at his feet. He listened then, his attention turning to the knot of people Skittles had so happily pointed out. At their head, Andrew March, upon witnessing his captain, redirected the attention of the guests he was attending. As first officer turned to face his superior in title and equal in all else, smile suddenly burst forth on bearded face, as dark eyes signaled it was time. Noticing the language of silent words passing between Captain and old friend, Sabastian Devareaux turned to see Sterling and with brilliant grin stepped aside to reveal dinner’s most honored guest.

He would always remember as the men surrounding her parted. He felt his throat tighten, his eyes forcing him to blink back the emotions that nearly overwhelmed him... The first thing he recalled when he saw her, was that afternoon... how he felt when he had laid eyes on the Archangel safely moored at the far edge of the harbour. A peace had settled over him, something he could never find the words to explain to another living soul no matter how hard he tried. His ship would always be his place of refuge, his place of serenity, his home no matter where the times took him or so he had always believed... in the moment he saw Aurore, her eyes fixing on his, he knew that was no longer true. As beliefs transferred from ship to the woman who now crossed to him, he knew his life was finally making a change for the best.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Steady foot steps could be heard in the narrow corridor that provided access to the rented room. The sound halted in front of the worn door, a series of knocks echoing through the meager space. One of the men inside rose, sliding the latch and opening the door just enough for Capitán Ulises to enter. The two waiting men could see the furry in their captain’s face. A deep ridge cut between his dark eyes, matching creases surrounding his down turned mouth. A deep red bloomed from below the collar of his dark indigo coat. He stormed into the space like a man possessed. The contents of a small table were scattered in a single, sweeping motion. A scared hand carelessly flung aside the room’s only chair. It shattered loudly against the far wall but elicited no response from the enraged captain. One crewman was knocked aggressively to the floor, his legs kicked out from underneath him. Grabbing the other by his neck, Ulises pinned the man against the wall with a powerful forearm. His words were nothing more than a deep growl in the otherwise silent room.

“¡Quiero saber todo sobre La Maligna! Her guns, her powder, her cargo, her crew. Más importantemente, su capitán. ¡Todo¡ Entiendes.”

There was no question in his tone. They would find the information he asked or face death at his hands. The men knew their reward for failure well, having seen the fate of others on many occasions. Ulises released the crewman, shoving him hard towards the door. The other followed quickly behind, issuing only a brief bow before the entrance was sealed in his wake. His temper subsiding, Ulises collapsed against the stiff bed. His heavy fingers laced behind his head as his eyes began to drift shut.

“Usted verá Capitán Striker, Encontraré su debilidad. Encontraré su debilidad pronto” He thought to himself as he fell into a dream wracked sleep.

[Capt. Sterling]

Symms reached out and paused. Drawing back he stopped to fathom the dilemma that lay before him. Should he run the risk of shaking the captain awake by laying hand on wounded shoulder? He was asleep on his good one. Should he perhaps… no that would never do…

“A-ha!” the old man crowed then placed his hand on his captain’s head and gave it a good shake.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Sterling said, his voice changing quickly from mumble to roar.

“Tis time ye were getting up, ye great lazy oaf. Had a time of it last night did ye? Put ye and that Mr. March in the same pub and tis always the same thing… but pity I do have fer ye… I not be wantin ye to be leavin that poor lass all alone at the altar… but if ye don’t get yerself stirrin…” his eyes narrowed. “Ye bloody well are gonna be late!”

Sterling rolled over onto his back then sat up.

“Where is Aurore?” he asked.

“Where else would she be on her wedding day?” Symms replied. “Home… most likely dressed and waiting with that brother of hers… I’m warnin ye, if ye don’t be getting that broken old carcass out of bed yer going to be one disappointed bloke!”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Isabella stirred a the bright morning sun broke the barrier of shutters, prodding her from slumber like an insistant child. Her eyes fluttered briefly, a conflict waged betwixt opening or not. The warmth and form next to her under the cover of worn quilt brought a slight upturn to the corners of lips' eloquated line. Melding closer, Venitian dove of soiled manner, propped up to elbow support and gazed with a certain hidden affection upon companion. There were only a select few that were permitted access to her small realm and this one in particular always proved a delightful contradiction of what was given to the outside world versus what was given in the private one. This one was capable of suprizing tenderness and attentiveness that belayed manner of stoic tendancies.

She leaned in, visually tracing the line of aquiline features cast in the typical darker hue of native Southern origins. Laughing softly, 'Bella knew that though his eyes remained closed, he was well aware of her stiring and chose to maintain eased repose. Playfully, the daint tip of soft tongue caressed the ridge of outer ear bringing a slyed smile to his expression that she did not have to see to be aware off.

"Bonjour, Monsieur...." she whispered.

"Madame..." was the quiet response.

"We cannot waste this morning abed, you well know..."

Christophe scowled to the prodding, this was a day that he had no desire to acknowledge. Pushing himself up to the support of headboard battlement, the Frenchman reached for near at hand brandy bottle. The scowl deepening with the discovery of its' emptiness.

"It and its' twin fell to your thirst late in the night." she chided.

"I desire a third, 'Belle. "

Wrapping a leg around his own, she moved her head in negation to the statement, "It is not yet Noon and even if it were, this is not the day for early drinking. We are expected at...."

Anger flashed his eyes, "Which is every raison pour cognac, beaucoup!"

Isabella allowed time for the tight set of his jaw to relax, unsure of what to say or do under the current circumstance. Shifting, she moved to straddle his abdomen and gathered the quilt about her waist. Christophe tracked her change of position with neutral guise. Sympathy painted her form as she looked upon his youthful face and spoke in hushed tone.

" I am sorry, Tristan..."

"Not as much as I....Nothing good will come of this and She..."

Venitian Dove placed fingers to his lips, "Shhhh, now."

His shoulders dropped in resignation, eyes centering elsewhere. Isabella brushed back the strands of wayward hair which errantly had fallen foward to lay over brow and cheek bone, but his focus remained far away. Returning to the Frenchman's side, she gently tugged him away from simple backboard laying his head on the soft flesh of her breast. Christophe made no protest, gave no resistance as she brought him close.

Isabella held him with knowing tenderness, gathered to her in an effort to vanquish, for a little while, the inner demons which leered on with hungry want.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Still regaining reining in her emotions, Jane took the items from Ioan’s hands. Upon opening the rough pottery bottle produced the distinct odor of turpentine. Jane’s nose wrinkled at the smell, the remaining alcohol in her stomach turning. She made quick work of mixing the egg yolks with a splash of the noxious liquid in one of the waiting mugs. She then settled delicately on the padded bedding next to Strikers side. He had fallen back into a light, pain wracked sleep. Jane was happy for the brief respite from his piercing gaze and the feelings it stirred. A scrap of fabric was dipped into the steeped tobacco tea. She dabbed at the gash with the cloth, the former shirt turning red with fresh blood. The line in Jane’s brow deepened as she concentrated. It wouldn’t be half as bad if he had only rested. Though she admitted his stubbornness was most likely what got him command of such a fine ship. Her eyes glanced around at the ornate carvings on the captain’s bed. So different from the rough wood she had grown used to aboard the Anna Rae. Light fingers smoothed the sticky paste across the freshly cleaned area. The touch elicited slight shifts in Striker’s breathing but he remained asleep. Carefully Jane laid a folded piece of cloth over the wound; wrapping his waist with a longer strip to hold the fist in place.

“He should sleep for sometime now” Jane spoke softly, afraid to disturb Strikers light slumber with her voice.

Delicately she rose from her perch at his side. The thick wool blanket was drawn over his sleeping form before she turned to Ioan. She looked at him critically for a moment, green eyes locking with dark. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, then shut again as she looked away. Her head dipped as she passed, leaving the enclosed cabin for the rain soaked deck.

[Capt. Sterling]

"Bloody hell Josiah, tis only Morning Watch," Sterling grumbled wishing he could just roll over and fall back to sleep, a habit he had never be able to master.

'Aye Sir that is right. Not yet four bells," Symms said, setting a dish of hot coffee on the table. "I've some of that wretched brew the Empress sent off with ye. I don't know how ye stomach that horror!"

"Just as well," Sterling said pulling his old banyan on over one shoulder as best he could. "It saves the chocolate for Aurore...I am sure that she would desire that more."

"Yer pipe is laid out fer ye, Sir," Symms said, coming to his captain's aid and adjusting the banyan into proper place. "Mr. March has already gone to pay off the preacher."

"Thank ye Josiah, tis good to know."

"Same as afore fer yer dress?" the old steward asked, burgundy coat already brushed and laid out.

"I think the black and silver," Sterling said leaning pipe down over lone candle flame.

Symms's old eyebrows arched in surprise for a moment prior to body huffing in rebuke... "And ye wanted to sell it!"

[Cheeky Actress]

After a long night of deep sleep, Mistress McKinney awoke to the sounds of a busy street. The sun had finally come out and the day was warm. Lilly moved slowly at first, trying to muster herself awake that was until she herd a knock at the door of her room. “Mistress?” Called out the serving girl, Bess. “I am to inform you that the good Doctor Reiley and his assistant have made their way to the docks this morning.”

Lilly quickly through on her robe and opened the door slowly, only showing a crack of herself behind the large oak door. “What’s this?” She said yawning slightly as the she looked down at Bess. “If you please Mistress, I have been informed to tell you that both Doctor Reiley and Mr. Davis have gone to the docks to meet with Captain Sterling upon their ship, the Archangel.”

Lilly nodded in blind agreement to the statement the girl was making. “Oh, yes..yes..yes…and did they say why they were going to the docks to visit the Captain?” The young girl paused for a moment then looked down at the floor. “Yes, they said that they were to partake in a ceremony, Mistress.” With an inquiring look, Lilly pressed another question. “What kind of ceremony?” “I think I heard Mr. Davis say, a wedding ceremony.”

It was then Lilly found herself very sober. “Whose wedding did he say it was? Come now, Bess…out with it, quickly?!” It was then Mistress McKinney’s fears were confirmed. “Yes, Captain Sterling’s wedding. He is to marry Aurore Devareaux this morning.” and with that, Lilly quickly slammed the door shut upon the girl. “You best hurry!” Yelled Bess from the other side of the door. “I think you have less than two hours before the celebration!”

[Capt. Sterling]

Disembarking from the boat, Sterling, March and Mr. Hazzards once again set themselves upon dry land. The sun already blazing in the Heavens, making up for lost time the day before.

“Lovely day for a wedding,” March said with a smirk.

“Bloody hot if ye ask me,” Sterling grumbled, fanning himself with the gauntlet of one presentation glove and little good it did him. “Have the boat sent back to fetch Mr. Symms… and tell him if he fusses today, of all days, I shall kill him.”

Bosun Dogge gave a quick nod of his head and lumbered back into the boat.

Sterling and March continued along the docks as Matthew Hazzards peeled off and addressed Tim Greene, an ex-marine now in the service of The Archangel.

“Have ye found him yet?” Hazzards asked.

“Aye Mr. Hazzards, the new doctor and Mr. Davis are making there way here now,” Greene replied.

“About time it is as well,” Hazzards remarked. “If he be wishin to keep his employ best not be wandering off again, especially with other crew members.”

“Ah sir, it appears the doctor may have had no choice in the matter,” Greene said.

“Explain,” Hazzards ordered.

“It appears the doctor was set upon by some upstarts on the road, whilst accompanying Mistress McKinney back into the Port. He was shot, but seems to be well enough now.”

Hazzards’ expression mirrored his annoyance.

“Port Royal seems to be havin a plague of sorts regarding mariners. Hell of a place this is. Glad to be gone from it when the time comes. Very well, tell Dr. Reiley tis to the wedding he should go, if he be so wantin. As to any affairs afterward, that is up to the Lady’s family… and knowing…” he quickly changed tack. “And hell if I know where or when any such activities will be. And if the good doctor be not well enough to attend, then be telling him to get himself and his gear in place on board.”

[Rats]

“If you ask me lad?” Insisted Reiley, as he slapped Davis on the back and almost caused him to drop the packages he ws carrying. “When I talked to her, she seemed very interested! So the question now is, what do you plan to do about it?”

“Well, I …” Stammered Davis.

“You do know what “to do” about it…. Don’t you?” Paused Reiley, as he stopped in the middle of the street and gave Davis a questioned look.

“Well of coarse….I.. ahm” Stammered Davis. “I mean, it’s not like I’m some kind of….”

“That’s a relief!” sighed Reiley. “Here I thought I’d have to give you the talk…”

“Yeah the talk…” replied Davis, with a hesitant chuckle.

“Because I haven't even started drinking enough to give that lecture!” Added Reiley. “But just the same lad, at a wedding like this, there is sure to be many a bonny lass. So you’d be wise to keep yer eyes open.. ”

"After all," Added Reiley. "You never know what might happen!"

[Cheeky Actress]

She was not accustom to dressing in a rush. She quickly pressed a damp rag of water, vinegar and orange rinds under her arms and around her neck. Not a proper bath, but it would have to do. Her hair still matted from last night sleep quickly was brushed back into a single bun and the rest fell loose about her shoulders. Lastly, she quickly changed from her lowly Mantua gown of blue to a proper gown of pink and green. She would never disgrace the Captain by not wearing the proper attire for his wedding. “Wedding.” She said to herself and the very word caused pain to her head and heart. She winced at every syllable that passed her lips. Grabbing her gloves and tossing on her left slipper, she dashed down the stairs to the tavern below. It was there she looked at the barkeep and begged some assistance. “I acquire a carriage, quickly.” She muttered as she tried to put on one glove. “Where be thee going, Mistress?” The barkeep asked. “To the dock where the Archangel is listed. I must be there quickly.” With a nod, the barkeep acknowledged a man near the door. “He’ll take thee. He knows the way.” With a low curtsy, Mistress McKinney followed the man down the street to where the carriage was parked. The man opened the door to the carriage and there waiting inside was Lady St. Claire. “Oh?” Tess muttered to Lilly as she climbed in the carriage. “I thought you of all people would not be invited to this affair. Tess’ tone of voice was filled with sarcasm. Lilly looked back at her as she took the seat across from her. “Yes, as I thought the same for you. Do you think the crewe will let you broad ship?” With a sly smile, Tess replied. “I have something special for the Groom and Bride.”

[Capt. Sterling]

Arriving at the church, Sterling and March made their way inside. Still early enough, the silence was almost overwhelmingly loud. As buckled shoes echoed off the stone walls, Sterling found himself amazed that he had been here only a few short days ago for the memorial service for the Oxford.

"Do ye have the license?" the captain asked.

"Tis here along with the rings," March said briefly touching pocket to assure himself all was still well in that regard.

"And the Reverend?"

"Paid off as well and a hefty sum I might add," March commented. "Seems even in Jamaica the law requires the ceremony over by noon... for an extra quinea, he stopped the clock in his study," March added with a snigger.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The lane was cleared as percession made way to Holy Ground. It was a rare thing to see the majority of Le Cour gathered in one place outside of nightly revelries, but this was not the norm of events. Horsemen fore and aft, escorted the carriage and matched grays down High Street under the glare of morning sun. The mood was jovial and calls of well wishes echoed the air from the local populace and some that were newly arrived.

Nearing destination, full halt was called for, allowing carriage to pull alongside the church's rear entrance. Delaney reined in his charges, setting brake then lept to the ground to attend step. Sabastian exited first, glancing over shoulder into shade drawn interior. The door was closed and the two men stepped closer to equine proximity.

Beggar Prince raised a brow in silent query, Delaney shook his head in silent reply.

[Capt. Sterling]

“Is she here?” Sterling asked as Reverend made his presence known to the two men.

“A carriage has arrived and guests are beginning to take their places… sad to say your side of the church is rather … empty, but then that is to be expected seeing that you are not from these parts,” the Rev. said.

Sterling smiled a moment, then began to pace. “Tis of no matter to me. As many of my crew that I dare spare in not watching the 'Angel is well enough. A carriage ye say, but did ye see the bride?”

[Aurore Devareaux]

Leaving the carriage under watchfull eye, Sabastian entered the church by choosen entrance. The thrum of conversation, muffled by the seperation of rear and front divisions, reverberated to his hearing. He moved forward, assuming he would find Sterling in the Rectory and finding the proper door, laid a knock to its' stately surface.

[Capt. Sterling]

Sterling halted in mid stride and turned to look at March. With a nod, best man made his way to the entrance and carefully looked out before opening door and clearing a path for Devareaux to enter.

Sterling studied the other's features, even now still cloaked so that he was forced to ask..."Is Aurore well?"

[Rats]

With the docks and the Archangel in sight, Reiley insisted to stop into a nearby tavern for a predatory drink.

“Now sir.” Instructed Reiley, as he turned to young Mr. Davis. “This day there is to be a wedding, “Bar keep one ale!”… and the best behavior will be expected from you…. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Insisted Davis, as he attempted to straighten his haphazard uniform.

“That’s good, lad.” Added Reiley, as he slapped some coin on the bar top and took a pull from his tankard. “Because once I become slobbering drunk, I will probably make a complete ass out of myself and you will surely need to ensure I don’t insult anyone important..”

“Sir?” questioned Davis, surprised at Reiley’s outburst.

“Just kidding lad.” Insisted Reiley. “However, I am afraid there is no way you will be allowed to attend this ceremony dressed in those rags!”

“Yes sir…” Agreed Davis, lowering his head in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you or the good Captain…”

“Which is exactly the reason why you need to get you changed.” Added Reiley, as he cut open one of the boxes and handed it to Davis.

“You’re a good man Mr. Davis.” Added Reiley. “.. and I’m damn proud to have you working with me…”

As Davis opened the box, which he originally thought was a wedding gift, he found a new and never worn hat and various other articles of proper ware.

“Unfortunately, it’s not all new.” Insisted Reiley, with a shrug. “But it’s a good start for a young man making his way.”

As young Mr. Davis stared at his new clothing, it was obvious he was at a loss of words.

“Well, what are you waiting for lad?” Insisted Reiley. “Go on! Get yerself changed and let me finish me drink! You don't want us to be late do you!?”

“Aye sir!” grinned Davis.