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dwgm
Chapter Eleven: Fleet Hall
Miss Seraphina Whibble knew very well she was a fortunate woman. For the last five years she had lived in the greatest luxury, her distant cousin, Lord Wainfleet, having invited her to make her home with him at Fleet Hall, situated a little north of the village of Mavis Enderby in the Lincolnshire Wolds. The house, originally built in the time of Queen Elizabeth and subsequently improved upon by several generations of Wainfleets, was perhaps not as elegantly symmetrical or as modern as one could have wished, but Miss Whibble was always inclined to resent those who referred to it as that drafty old pile. She had done her best to keep the Hall in good order for her cousin during the last years of his life, having assumed the duties of housekeeper, secretary, and, occasionally, cook on taking up residence in the Gold Suite, a compact set of rooms on the third floor, adjacent to the attic stairs and conveniently near to the servants’ quarters, and she had always felt it was her privilege as well as her duty to assist her cousin in these ways. The work had been copious and satisfying to one who really preferred to be kept busy, and had the added advantage of bringing her into contact with the estate’s steward, Mr. Alfred Locke, a gentleman for whom she had conceived a great respect in recent years.
But the happiness she had known at Fleet Hall was at an end, or so she feared.
Her cousin had been of an advanced age, yet he had never ailed until that fateful day when he went out for his morning walk – always a solitary expedition as he was something of an amateur naturalist – and was brought back to the house on a hurdle, unconscious. The doctor had been quickly summoned, but poor Wainfleet never regained his wits before succumbing a few hours later, the victim of a severe apoplexy. There had been no time for goodbyes, and, more to the point, no time to make any last minute alteration to his will in order to make provision for Seraphina, as he had more than once implied he would do.
As a result, Sera was informed that everything was left to Lord Wainfleet’s son, the son he had openly acknowledged only in recent years, and whom he hadn’t seen or heard from in over a decade. The son who was infamous throughout England (and apparently over much of the world) as Captain Jack Sparrow, explorer, privateer, and, in earlier times, notorious pirate, a man who had barely escaped the gibbet on at least one occasion.
In the year since her cousin’s death, Sera had been much inclined to tears, both of grief and of apprehension of what the future might hold, but she had been able to keep this tendency under rigid control until two days ago, when she’d received an express communication from the family’s solicitor in London, informing her that Captain Sparrow had finally returned to England to take up his inheritance, and that Sera would shortly have the pleasure of receiving him and his wife, their two children, his niece and nephew and their young son, and finally his close friend, retired admiral James Norrington, along with Mrs. Norrington and their daughter.
“You will say I have had ample time to prepare, but it is too much. Too much! Oh, Alfred, what am I to do?” said Sera, tears overflowing again. She daubed them away and blew her nose with what delicacy she could manage.
“Now, now,” said Alfred, and offered her his own handkerchief, clean and neatly folded, as well as being rather larger and very much drier than her own.
She took it and subsequently said in muffled tones, “Thank you. So very sorry. Odious to subject you to such a display.”
“Not at all,” Alfred smiled. “You’ve borne up very well, my dear, and I make no doubt that your worries are quite exaggerated. There is no indication that the captain intends to make Fleet Hall his permanent home, after all.”
“But there is no indication that he does not – and how could he not wish to do so?” she demanded. “After living in the squalor of shipboard life? I sailed from London to Cherbourg to visit a friend from school once, and it was a dreadful experience from start to finish. The ship was dirty and cramped, and I was ill from the moment I set foot upon the deck.”
“It seems unlikely that your cousin views a life at sea with such disapprobation, however. He has been the captain of a ship for thirty-five years, if the stories are correct.”
She sniffed. “He was a pirate for the first dozen of those years. A pirate! Can you imagine? And besides the property, there is the prestige attached to his inheritance. Could any man resist the trappings of a peerage after being brought so low in the past?”
Alfred shook his head, quite seeing her point.
But even at that moment, Phoebe, the youngest of the upstairs maids, burst in the kitchen door. “Ma’am, they’re here! Blake says there’s three big carriages coming up the drive! Oh, ma’am, what’re we to do?” The girl wrung her hands.
Sera and Alfred both stood up, and Sera said, far more calmly than she felt, “We shall gather to greet them with the respect due to the new baron and his family, of course. Come now, run and call the others.”
There was no need to call. Anticipation had been running high among the whole staff since Sera had received her letter, and several of their number had noted that the new baron’s arrival was immanent and had spread the word. Everyone was gathering in the foyer, and when Sera and Alfred entered, the small crowd parted to allow them to reach the front door, which Blake opened. Sera felt as though she were going to her doom, and was most grateful for Alfred’s strengthening presence beside her as they walked out, followed by the rest of the household. They stood in silence as the three post-chaises drew up before the entrance.
Blake trotted down the steps to assist the post-boys in opening the carriage doors. A great many persons began to emerge, including two young children, a boy and a girl, who looked about with apparent delight. The others, couples of varying station and maturity, were much more reserved as they alighted, and there was one gentleman of indeterminate age, slim and elegant in black with silver lacing, and very good-looking, who cast his expressive eyes over the house with an air of extreme misgiving. He turned to speak in a low voice to a diminutive lady as he handed her down from the carriage in which he’d been riding.
“But Jack, it’s a lovely house!” the lady protested. She came forward, her demeanor and attire such that Sera would have felt a positive bumpkin but for the amiable smile with which the lady surveyed the scene. Her gaze settled quickly on Sera and she tilted her head slightly, like some curious and exotic bird. “Are you Miss Whibble?”
Sera, who found she’d been staring, flushed and curtsied. “Yes, ma’am.”
The worried gentleman, the one who’d handed this lady from their carriage, now stepped up beside her and bowed. “I fancy we’re cousins, then, from what they tell me. I’m… er… Wainfleet.”
The servants made their curtsies and bows, and Sera said, “Welcome to Fleet Hall, my lord.”
My lord made a face, cleared his throat, and addressed the entire household in a firm voice. “It’s Captain, thanks. Captain Jack Sparrow. My wife, Henrietta, has been Lady Harry for time out of mind, but I’ve been Captain Jack Sparrow even longer and we might as well begin as we mean to go on. Savvy?”
There were murmurs of assent all around her, and Sera said, “Yes, Captain.”
Captain Sparrow smiled at that, and said to her, “You, of course, can call me Cousin Jack,” and the words, the voice, the expression held such singular charm that Sera’s breath was quite taken away.
*
Sera shed tears again that evening, but for quite another reason.
“Too kind. Too generous,” she said to Alfred as they walked in the moonlit garden, long after dinner had ended. “It’s almost like a dream come true!”
Alfred smiled but shook his head. “Sera, they are getting the best of the bargain! You have always taken exemplary care of this house—“
“With your capable assistance.” She smiled shyly, sniffing and daubing at her eyes.
“Perhaps so. But it is you who have born the greater burden these many years. The captain’s father imposed upon your good nature quite shockingly, if I may say so, and now he seems like to do so as well.”
“Oh, no!” Sera objected. “You speak as a friend, but I beg you to put such thoughts from your mind. Once the staff and I came to an understanding, shortly after I first arrived, there was little but joy attached to my duties here, I assure you. That I will be able to continue to live here and to look after the house is such a source of comfort. The captain has agreed to all my suggestions for improvements in the kitchen, too, as well as approving necessary repairs throughout the Hall. And Lady Harry was so kind as to commend my work in many areas, particularly the linen cupboard, the refurbishing of which, as you know, has been a pet project of mine. She seems most knowledgeable in the many aspects of keeping a house in good order.”
Alfred chuckled. “That is surprising. She looks a frivolous creature.”
“She was Duchess of Wyndham in her youth, and is now mistress of a great plantation in the West Indies, when she is not traveling the world with her family. And I believe she cultivates that light appearance, to some degree, for her own amusement and for that of her husband. She told me that the captain is ordinarily much more colorful a character as well, but that their return to England has weighed upon him to a disturbing degree. They will only be staying a few weeks, and though they may visit occasionally in the future, they will send ample notice of their arrival. So considerate!”
“What about their son? He seemed far more taken with the house than his father, when he wasn’t ogling Miss Norrington, or teasing his sister and young Master Turner.”
“He is certainly a likeable young scamp.” Sera smiled. “I believe Miss Norrington returns his regard, and who can blame her? But he is not yet his father’s equal, by any means. I don’t know when I’ve met a more appealing gentleman than Captain Sparrow.”
“I daresay,” said Alfred, with a sigh. “He will soon have you quite spoiled for other, more ordinary male companionship.”
Sera chuckled. “Now you are being absurd, my friend.”
He stopped on the path and turned to her. “Am I?”
She stopped, too, and gave a little gasp of surprise as he took up her hand. “Yes,” she breathed.
It was her reply to all his questions, both spoken and silent. And when he bowed and his lips just brushed her fingers, she had to close her eyes, just briefly, her heart was so full of relief and happiness.
*
Harry woke near dawn and it took her several moments to remember where they were.
Jack had refused to entertain the notion that they should use his father’s suite of rooms, which Cousin Sera had caused to be thoroughly prepared and had shown to them so proudly. “No. Any but those,” Jack had said, adamantly. “I’m sorry for your trouble, Cousin, but… no.” He’d backed away and dismissed Harry, saying, “Go on, you and my cousin choose some other room for us. Or rooms. Whatever you like. But I’m done here, Will and I are going out, maybe look over the stables, the footman says there are a few horses still in residence.”
Harry had shaken her head at both his obstinacy and the distress that was at its root, and had continued her tour of the house with Sera, eventually coming across this smaller suite, facing east, with its long view over the rolling ground to the edge of the estate and beyond. It had belonged to Jack’s grandmother, in the final years of her life, and its furnishings were in the lighter, more feminine style that had come into fashion during the reign of Queen Anne. Harry was most taken with the colors that had been used as well, a whole palate of greens and blues that almost reminded her of the fresh vistas they’d enjoyed east of the Cape – or perhaps of their home on St. Claire. Fortunately Jack had deigned to approve when he was eventually driven back to the house by hunger and the knowledge that Alphonse was waiting to help him change for dinner.
Now Harry slipped from the warmth of their bed and padded across the thick carpet to the window, drawing aside the drape. Pale gold light poured in, and she heard a groan behind her that made her chuckle.
“Harry, what the devil? Get back here!”
She left the heavy drape cracked, for she wanted to see, and be seen, and even as she returned she began to pull loose the satin ribbons on her nightgown. She stopped just out of Jack’s reach and held his eyes with her own as she drew the garment off her shoulders.
“Harry, this isn’t—“
“Silence!” she said, unsmiling. She let the gown slip from her body. “It’s time to make some new memories of this house. You’ve been brooding long enough.”
“Oh, I have?” He lifted the covers for her as she stepped naked from the pool of fabric, and as she climbed in, climbed on, pushing him forcefully back against the pillows, he said, “Lord. You didn’t think to lock the door, I suppose?”
“No,” she said, leaning forward to give her words intensity -- “What do I care if they observe the ways in which I can make the great Captain Jack Sparrow beg for merciful release?” – and to slip her hand under her own pillow in search of her goal: the small, elegant cut-glass vial, as yet unsealed, which she had secreted beneath her pillow the previous night. Finding it, she ignored the delightful warmth of his hands moving down her sides to her hips, sat up, and began to carefully open it.
“What’s that?” Jack asked, his brows (among other things) rising.
“I find the French are particularly adept at creating aids to pleasure. This herb-infused oil is said to have some most interesting properties. I believe you’ll enjoy the scent, too. There. Now lie back, and try to relax. This will take some time.”
He was moved to protest. “Harry—“
She placed two fingers against his lips, and glared. “Not another word, Jack Sparrow, or I promise you will pay dearly for your temerity.”
That gave him pause, but only for a moment. He gave a snort of suppressed laughter (which nearly broke her own gravity), pursed his lips, kissing her fingers, and when she took them away, defied her command. “Yes, ma’am,” he purred, meekly, but quite deliberately, the burgeoning fire in his eyes assuring her of the ultimate success of her stratagem.
Continued in Chapter Twelve: Father Aloysius
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 03:45 pm (UTC)Very apt description! It's no surprise Sera was instantly taken with him. And very good to know the Sparrows will show her the kindness she deserves.
"Welcome to Fleet Hall, my lord." My lord made a face.
LOL!
"Not another word, Jack Sparrow, or I promise you will pay dearly for your temerity."
Now is that any way to speak to a new-fledged lord...? Yeah, I guess it is.
Fine chapter! And I'm curious about this upcoming Russian dude.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 03:13 pm (UTC)Harry has gotten rather demanding, hasn't she? *g*
So happy you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you very much for commenting.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 03:35 pm (UTC)'Aloysius' is a name associated with Eastern Europe- at least that's where some of the most famous ones have originated. But I guess this upcoming guy could be a Pole or a Lithuanian.
Jack conversing with a Russian could get interesting! As Marx once wrote to Engels, "As soon as a Russian worms his way in, all hell breaks loose."
no subject
Date: 2011-01-13 03:00 pm (UTC)*weaves backstory for minor OC*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 04:39 pm (UTC)(By the way, I'm not reading this yet, or else I'd be leaving proper reviews. I'm just copying and pasting them as each chapter comes out so I can read them on my Nook after I finish my re-read!)
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Date: 2011-01-12 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 10:01 pm (UTC)Wonderful chapter! :)
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Date: 2011-01-12 03:05 pm (UTC)Rambling. So glad you enjoyed this. Thank you very much for commenting, both here and on ff.net!!
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Date: 2011-01-11 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 02:55 pm (UTC)