500 more words of 'An Execrable Business', this time referencing the 'Calm' drabble prompt, with thanks to
hereswith for beta reading and suggestions.
1. Tortuga
2. Happiness
3. Festive
4. Last Minute
5. Calm
~ An Execrable Business, continued...
Ablutions complete, they climbed the steps and entered Whitby House through the back door. The kitchen maid and pot boy exclaimed delightedly over Captain Sparrow, and then the smiling Mistress Whitby herself led them into the dining room and installed them at a corner table by the hearth.
“A bit of a fire, to take the chill off. I declare, I’ve never seen so much rain here, you’d think we were still in England. Unseasonable cool, as they say – or maybe I’ve just gotten soft, living here these four years. A cup of hot punch for you and the lad, Captain?”
“Just for me, thanks. Smith here’d prefer a pot of chocolate, if you’ve any to hand.”
“Chocolate!” exclaimed Mistress Whitby. “My goodness, aren’t we high-toned! But certainly we can accommodate the young gentleman. I shall bring it directly.” She exited, chuckling.
Nell turned to Captain Sparrow. “I haven’t had chocolate this age! Thank you.”
He fixed her with an oddly penetrating look. “You’re welcome. It’ll take her some time to make it, so let’s have it. The truth, now, mind.”
She hesitated. The fact that he was held in such esteem by Martha Whitby and the folk of Whitby House had gone far toward persuading Nell that her favorable first impression of the captain had been correct. Or second impression; she had been quite terrified to be pushed so roughly against that wall. Yet, as good natured and elegant of manner (and young, and very handsome) as he seemed, the captain was still a pirate. How far could he be trusted with the truth? What machinations occupied the brain behind those dark eyes? She wanted to trust him. But…
“If you betray me… it would be horridly wicked. Beyond anything!”
The words sounded absurd, even to her own ears.
And Captain Sparrow grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those dramatickal sorts of females. Don’t matter how pretty you are, if that’s the case.”
Nell bridled. “Is that the only reason you’re helping me?”
“Who said I’m helping you? Other than coming here for a meal, which I was doing anyway. Though if you was quizzy, or squint-eyed, I probably wouldn’t have gone that far,” he admitted. “A pretty physiognomy comes in useful sometimes, as I happen to know from experience.” He smirked, looking sinfully coy.
She could not help giving a little snort of laughter, but said, severely, “Pretty is as pretty does.”
“Ha! That’s what they’d like you to believe, innit? I suppose your grandmother used to say that, too.”
At the mention of her beloved grandmother, Nell’s amusement vanished with aching speed. Tears threatened again, which must have been evident for a comically panicked look crossed the captain’s face. But Nell sat up, very straight, and calmed herself. “No. I will not weep, you needn’t worry. I am grateful for your… your mercy toward me, and must hope it will continue when I tell you—”
“—the truth.” The captain glared.
“The truth,” Nell agreed.
TBC…
1. Tortuga
2. Happiness
3. Festive
4. Last Minute
5. Calm
~ An Execrable Business, continued...
Ablutions complete, they climbed the steps and entered Whitby House through the back door. The kitchen maid and pot boy exclaimed delightedly over Captain Sparrow, and then the smiling Mistress Whitby herself led them into the dining room and installed them at a corner table by the hearth.
“A bit of a fire, to take the chill off. I declare, I’ve never seen so much rain here, you’d think we were still in England. Unseasonable cool, as they say – or maybe I’ve just gotten soft, living here these four years. A cup of hot punch for you and the lad, Captain?”
“Just for me, thanks. Smith here’d prefer a pot of chocolate, if you’ve any to hand.”
“Chocolate!” exclaimed Mistress Whitby. “My goodness, aren’t we high-toned! But certainly we can accommodate the young gentleman. I shall bring it directly.” She exited, chuckling.
Nell turned to Captain Sparrow. “I haven’t had chocolate this age! Thank you.”
He fixed her with an oddly penetrating look. “You’re welcome. It’ll take her some time to make it, so let’s have it. The truth, now, mind.”
She hesitated. The fact that he was held in such esteem by Martha Whitby and the folk of Whitby House had gone far toward persuading Nell that her favorable first impression of the captain had been correct. Or second impression; she had been quite terrified to be pushed so roughly against that wall. Yet, as good natured and elegant of manner (and young, and very handsome) as he seemed, the captain was still a pirate. How far could he be trusted with the truth? What machinations occupied the brain behind those dark eyes? She wanted to trust him. But…
“If you betray me… it would be horridly wicked. Beyond anything!”
The words sounded absurd, even to her own ears.
And Captain Sparrow grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those dramatickal sorts of females. Don’t matter how pretty you are, if that’s the case.”
Nell bridled. “Is that the only reason you’re helping me?”
“Who said I’m helping you? Other than coming here for a meal, which I was doing anyway. Though if you was quizzy, or squint-eyed, I probably wouldn’t have gone that far,” he admitted. “A pretty physiognomy comes in useful sometimes, as I happen to know from experience.” He smirked, looking sinfully coy.
She could not help giving a little snort of laughter, but said, severely, “Pretty is as pretty does.”
“Ha! That’s what they’d like you to believe, innit? I suppose your grandmother used to say that, too.”
At the mention of her beloved grandmother, Nell’s amusement vanished with aching speed. Tears threatened again, which must have been evident for a comically panicked look crossed the captain’s face. But Nell sat up, very straight, and calmed herself. “No. I will not weep, you needn’t worry. I am grateful for your… your mercy toward me, and must hope it will continue when I tell you—”
“—the truth.” The captain glared.
“The truth,” Nell agreed.
TBC…