crying?
Ben was staring down at me with wide eyes and a confused, hurt expression. “I thought you know about Mrs. Graves,” he said quietly.
“No, I bloody well didn't know about Mrs. Graves. I met the... the... bastard for the first time last night.” I paused for a moment and then said in a low, vindictive voice, “Do you know what he did to me last night?” Ben shook his head minutely, his expression part curiosity, part dread. “He bought my virginity, like it was a cow or a pig.” I enunciated each horrible word carefully; my elocution teacher would have been very proud.
He jerked his head back as if I'd slapped him and I laughed; it was humorless and cruel and a small, mean part of myself enjoyed the pain on Ben's face. “Oh, you didn't know that about your captain? That he does things like ruin a young, innocent girl just because he can?”
“I take you back to Madame's,” he said quietly and took my arm once more, his hold on me gentle but firm. I let him steer me back through the tents and the market to the narrow streets of the town proper. Once we were in the brothel, he led me upstairs to my room and said, “I be going downstairs for an ale.” He closed the door before I could say anything and locked it.
I threw myself down on my bed and stared out the windows, watching the sheers fluttering in the breezes. I was miserable, angry and ashamed. My mother would have been so disappointed in the way I had treated Ben, in the way I'd taken my sour mood out on him. He was just as innocent in all of this as I was. Nothing that had happened last night or even earlier on the beach was his fault and yet I was punishing him for it. I felt so guilty, knowing I'd betrayed my mother with my abysmal behavior. I felt guilt for hurting Ben's feelings, too. While I couldn't apologize to my mother—I could only hope that, wherever she was, she understood—I made up my mind to apologize to Ben as soon as I saw him again.
The door some time later, and Tansy came in, carrying a tray loaded down with lunch and a small brown paper-wrapped package. She set down the tray on the table and brought the package over to me. Handing it to me, she asked, “What you do to moun lib ? He be sittin' down there, drinkin', ignorin' the fi .”
I studied the package for a moment and as I was opening it, I said, “I did nothing but tell him the truth of my situation.” I was silent for a moment and then asked, “Did you know Captain Graves is married?”
“ Wi , I knew. What does it matter? He not in love with you.”
I shuddered at that thought, grateful to God and all His angels that it was the truth. “He's breaking his wedding vows,” I explained piously. “Marriage is sacred. One man, one woman, until death do you part. It says so in the Bible.”
Tansy shook her head and chuckled. “Things work different here than they do in London town. Bib la don't make much difference in most lives here. Mr. MacIsaac dropped that for you.” And with that, she left my room and locked the door behind her.
Her words stung, but I had already seen their veracity. Things were very different in Nassau. But God was God, no matter where I was. His law, His Word still needed to be followed and obeyed.
I finished pulling off the wrapping to reveal a slim volume covered in greenish leather. In gold leaf on the spine was the title, Les Contes de ma Mère l'Oye. The author was Pierre Perrault Darmancour. “Stories of Mother Goose,” I read aloud in English and opened the book. A handwritten note slid out, which read, “With compliments of Captain Gideon Graves”. The handwriting was neat and quite lovely, though obviously masculine, and I wondered who wrote it—Mr. MacIsaac, Graves, or someone else entirely. Could pirates have lovely handwriting?
The book's table of contents listed eight stories. I selected one at random, La Barbe bleue , and began reading. The story was about a barbarous merchant with a hideous blue beard. He wanted
Ben was staring down at me with wide eyes and a confused, hurt expression. “I thought you know about Mrs. Graves,” he said quietly.
“No, I bloody well didn't know about Mrs. Graves. I met the... the... bastard for the first time last night.” I paused for a moment and then said in a low, vindictive voice, “Do you know what he did to me last night?” Ben shook his head minutely, his expression part curiosity, part dread. “He bought my virginity, like it was a cow or a pig.” I enunciated each horrible word carefully; my elocution teacher would have been very proud.
He jerked his head back as if I'd slapped him and I laughed; it was humorless and cruel and a small, mean part of myself enjoyed the pain on Ben's face. “Oh, you didn't know that about your captain? That he does things like ruin a young, innocent girl just because he can?”
“I take you back to Madame's,” he said quietly and took my arm once more, his hold on me gentle but firm. I let him steer me back through the tents and the market to the narrow streets of the town proper. Once we were in the brothel, he led me upstairs to my room and said, “I be going downstairs for an ale.” He closed the door before I could say anything and locked it.
I threw myself down on my bed and stared out the windows, watching the sheers fluttering in the breezes. I was miserable, angry and ashamed. My mother would have been so disappointed in the way I had treated Ben, in the way I'd taken my sour mood out on him. He was just as innocent in all of this as I was. Nothing that had happened last night or even earlier on the beach was his fault and yet I was punishing him for it. I felt so guilty, knowing I'd betrayed my mother with my abysmal behavior. I felt guilt for hurting Ben's feelings, too. While I couldn't apologize to my mother—I could only hope that, wherever she was, she understood—I made up my mind to apologize to Ben as soon as I saw him again.
The door some time later, and Tansy came in, carrying a tray loaded down with lunch and a small brown paper-wrapped package. She set down the tray on the table and brought the package over to me. Handing it to me, she asked, “What you do to moun lib ? He be sittin' down there, drinkin', ignorin' the fi .”
I studied the package for a moment and as I was opening it, I said, “I did nothing but tell him the truth of my situation.” I was silent for a moment and then asked, “Did you know Captain Graves is married?”
“ Wi , I knew. What does it matter? He not in love with you.”
I shuddered at that thought, grateful to God and all His angels that it was the truth. “He's breaking his wedding vows,” I explained piously. “Marriage is sacred. One man, one woman, until death do you part. It says so in the Bible.”
Tansy shook her head and chuckled. “Things work different here than they do in London town. Bib la don't make much difference in most lives here. Mr. MacIsaac dropped that for you.” And with that, she left my room and locked the door behind her.
Her words stung, but I had already seen their veracity. Things were very different in Nassau. But God was God, no matter where I was. His law, His Word still needed to be followed and obeyed.
I finished pulling off the wrapping to reveal a slim volume covered in greenish leather. In gold leaf on the spine was the title, Les Contes de ma Mère l'Oye. The author was Pierre Perrault Darmancour. “Stories of Mother Goose,” I read aloud in English and opened the book. A handwritten note slid out, which read, “With compliments of Captain Gideon Graves”. The handwriting was neat and quite lovely, though obviously masculine, and I wondered who wrote it—Mr. MacIsaac, Graves, or someone else entirely. Could pirates have lovely handwriting?
The book's table of contents listed eight stories. I selected one at random, La Barbe bleue , and began reading. The story was about a barbarous merchant with a hideous blue beard. He wanted
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