Corsets & Crossbones (11 page)

“Ah, Miss Cunningham, so you’ve returned,” he said, peering down at her as she took a seat alongside Fiona.  His face scowled at her, his big, bushy brows nearly overlapping his eyes they hung so low.  “Do you realize how much you’ve missed going off and gallivanting with pirates?”  He looked at her harshly and waited for her to respond.

Brooke smiled after Mister Slater finished speaking.

“You think something’s funny, do you?”  His hands were on his hips now and he was leaning over her desk.

Brooke had to keep from biting the inside of her cheek from laughing out loud.

“Of course not,” she managed to say.

He looked at her a while longer, and she managed to keep a straight face as he did so.  She nearly lost it when Fiona hiccupped a chuckle, but pulled it back together before Mister Slater noticed.

“Well, then,” he said, spinning around and walking over to the chalkboard.  He grabbed the white writing material between his fingers and proceeded to write on the board.  “We’ll begin with the French translation of ‘gallivanting with pirates.’”  He turned to look suspiciously at Brooke and muttered, “Don’t think I don’t know.”

Brooke smiled.  Finally, somebody who did not think Charlie had kidnapped her.

That night, her father had the chef prepare something special for the two of them, and then dismissed his staff for the evening so he could speak with his daughter privately.  Brooke was somewhat nervous as she made her way down the stairs to dine with her father.  They never ate alone together since the day her mother passed away so his behavior following her reappearance on Port Royal made her suspicious.

Master Cunningham stood when he saw his daughter enter the dining room.  He smiled at her and she returned it, but it did not reach her eyes.

“How are you, Brooke?” he asked her as they sat down.

“I am fine, Father,” she murmured softly as her eyes swept the table.

There were fresh apples and bananas in a bowl.  The main dish was a cooked pig, accompanied by a green salad and a loaf of bread.  Brooke picked up the loaf of bread and cut off a slice before elaborating her answer to her father.

“I have told you before; Captain Colt did not harm me,” she said, and then took a bite of her bread.

“Captain Colt and I have had dealings before,” Master Cunningham said, staring intently at his daughter.  “How do you know he was just not the cause of the destruction of Port Royal, and he took you as ransom?  He knows our family is quite wealthy, and that we are close with Governor Radcliffe.”  He took a long gulp from his goblet of wine.  “I would not put it past him.”

“I would,” Brooke said sharply.

“Brooke, you do not know what you are-“

“Yes I do!” she exclaimed.  “Can I not be trusted to make my own judgment on a particular man’s character without someone telling me I am wrong?  I am nearly one-and-twenty years old!  You and Mother married when you were both three years younger than I am now.”

Master Cunningham shook his head as he took another gulp of wine.

“Thank the Lord that your judgment was clear in the moment you agreed to marry Lord Sutherland.  We are lucky that he agreed to such a small dowry.”

The word ‘dowry’ caused Brooke’s head to snap up.  She narrowed her eyes at her father as she took a gulp of her milk to help her swallow her food.  At the moment, she was temporarily unable to do it herself.

“Dowry?” she asked him.  “My dowry?  What is in my dowry, Father?”

Master Cunningham waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Oh, you know,” he said breezily.  “Annual payments, your jewels, a map…”

“My jewels?”
Brooke asked, her voice cracking.  “The very jewels Grandmother gave me?”

“…some pigs and a cow as well,” he finished.  He motioned to Brooke’s plate of food.  “Come now, honey, your food is getting cold.”

Brooke contorted her face into a scowl.

“If you will excuse me, Father, I do not feel well,” she said as she stood, and threw her napkin on her food.

As she made her way up the stairs, she was finally able to wrap her head around everything her father had said.  He mentioned a map, she remembered.  Could it be the map that Charlie had, the one that led to the treasure of the ‘Dead Man’s Tale’?  Is that why Sutherland was so quick to make her a deal, sparing Charlie’s life, but claiming hers?  That would mean he would have to know the contents of her dowry before proposing the deal.

Her father was planning this even before she agreed to marry Sutherland.  The thought scared her, someone planning her fate without giving her any information of it or giving her any choice in the matter.

Once she entered the room, she quickly changed into her nightgown and slipped into Charlie’s trench coat.  She was so glad nothing had happened to it.  Her room was repaired quickly, but no painting replaced the one that had been destroyed.

Brooke crawled into her bed and rested her head on her pillow.  She glanced out her window; it was left open, as usual.  Pulling the trench coat tighter around her, she inhaled the scent that stained the cloth.

It was fading, she realized.  His scent was fading from the coat.

Charlie cursed under his breath as he downed another drink.  His perfectly brilliant plan was to go
into affect but he was missing a key element: the uniform.  How were people supposed to believe that he was an actual Father without the black robes and the white collar?  He scratched his shaggy hair and humphed.  Maybe he should’ve gone to confession more often.  Why didn’t he have more religious acquaintances?  He had many acquaintances; everyone from whores and pirates to princesses and governors.  Why no Fathers?  Why no nuns, even? 
She’s getting married in three days and I am nowhere
, Charlie thought bitterly, glancing at Grace and motioning her to get him another drink.

Without warning, a stranger walked in.  Charlie turned to look, and nearly choked up the rum he was about to swallow.  A Father, an actual Catholic Father, had just walked in the lowliest bar on the lowliest island in the Caribbean.  It was not that rare seeing a priest in
Torro; some came as missionaries, hoping to save the damned souls that plagued the island of Torro.  However, Charlie knew how lucky he was, and quickly crossed himself as he got up.  He nearly stumbled over himself, and quickly sat down next to the priest without waiting for an invitation.  Grace took Charlie’s drink over to Charlie’s newly acquired seat, and Charlie pushed it to the Father.  Grace quirked a brow, never having seen Charlie give up paid rum so easily, but did not question him, and slowly walked away.

“A drink for you Father,” Charlie said, grinning so his teeth glinted charmingly.  “I need your help… Now, I’m not a religious man…”

“Which is why I’m here,” Father replied, taking a sip of the cheap rum.  “If I’m able to help or inspire even one of you people, then my job has been fulfilled.  My name is Father Barbarey.”

Charlie looked at the wooden table, his eyes wide and he suppressed a frustrated sigh.  “Right,” Charlie said, and then smiled cheekily.  “My name is Charlie.  I knew I could talk to you about something serious. 
Right.”  He sighed before looking back at the priest.   “I am in love,” Charlie said quietly, thinking quickly on his feet.  “But sadly, for the past three months, she’s been kept away from me.  You see,” and he whispered, “our love is forbidden.  Not in a sinful way, of course, but society doesn’t believe a pirate and a princess really fit well together.  She’s to be married in three days.”

“Oh how awful,” the young priest said, taking another sip of the rum.  “How may I help you?”

“Well, I would like to attend the wedding,” Charlie said persuasively, “but I doubt the people would want someone like me around.  However, with an outfit much like yours, they might perceive me much more… with open arms, in fact.”  Charlie extended his arms for effect.  “Do you understand what I’m saying…?”  His eyebrows extended high.

The priest nodded, smiling. 
“Of course, of course.  Let me finish my drink, and I shall let you have my spare uniform.”  He furrowed his brow.  “Wait, you mean the wedding at Port Royal?  I’m supposed to marry the two.  Does the girl still love you?”  At Charlie’s nod, the priest pushed his fingers together deep in thought.  “Hmm… I cannot, in the name of good morale, marry someone who does not wish to be married.  But if you went in my stead…”

“A brilliant idea, mate,” Charlie said, putting his hands together in a meaning of prayer.  “I could not have come up with a better one myself.”

“I’m staying in a room above,” the priest said, waving humbly at Charlie’s compliment.  “After our business here, let us go upstairs and further discuss this unrequited love story, shall we?”

After a few days, a knock sounded on the front of the Cunningham residence.  Jarvis, their butler, answered the door and led the young man into the sitting room before calling Brooke down stairs.

“Joel?” Brooke asked, covering herself more with a silk white robe.  “What are you doing here?  My father is out on business…”

“I came to see you, Brooke,” he told her quietly, stepping forward.

Brooke looked up into Joel’s blue eyes.  He was quite handsome, and Brooke understood why Fiona was so besotted with him.  He was charming in a subtle manner, and incredibly witty.  He had intense blue eyes and short, sandy blond hair.  He was peachy pale, with a clean shaven face.  He was a bit on the scrawny side, but he made up for it in height.  He was a bit shorter than Charlie, Brooke noticed.

“Is everything
all right?” Brooke prodded, glancing out the window.  Stars twinkled in return to her gaze.

“I apologize for the late hour,” Joel said.  “In fact, I apologize coming to see you without calling first.  I am sure what this might look like.”

“My servants are incredibly loyal,” she said surely.  “Please, go on.”

“I wanted to come here to apologize,” he said, his blue eyes pooled with worry.

Brooke smiled.  “You have done enough of that tonight,” she jested.

“Please, listen Brooke,” he said softly.  Brooke’s smile slowly slipped off her face when he saw the intent gaze in his eyes.  She nodded, silently urging him to go on.  “I wanted to apologize for that night… the night you disappeared.  I led you back… I should have gone inside with you, made absolutely certain that you were
all right.  When I heard that you had disappeared, I knew it was my fault.”

“Joel, please,” Brooke said, forcing him to look her in her eyes.  “I know what many of you think, but Charlie saved me.  If he was not there to take me away then surely I would be
apart of the wreckage.”

“That
pirate
,” Joel spat the word, “has you brainwashed, Brooke.”

Brooke sighed through her nose, trying to maintain her patience.  After Fiona, he was her closest friend.  She did not quite figure in Charlie yet, but he was definitely up among them in her list of friends.  She did not want to fight, as she had with Lord Sutherland, her father, and even Fiona, about whether or not Charlie had taken her against her will or not, and while she maintained his innocence, many people thoroughly believed as Joel did; that Captain Colt had brainwashed her.  It infuriated her that everyone believed she was incapable of making any decisions herself, but getting angry was not going to help anything.

“He’s a wanted man, now more than ever,” Joel continued.  “If he sets one foot on this land, he will be captured, tried, and put to death.”

Brooke had never fully comprehended that fact.  She knew that Charlie was a wanted man, but never really understood the consequences of Charlie’s actions.  If he came to rescue her and was caught, he would be put to death.  It was as simple as that.  And if he was caught, it would be her fault and her sacrificing herself would be in vain.  If only she could write to Charlie, to tell him not to come, then his life might be spared.  But people were monitoring her, especially since she seemed to be so fond of a wanted man.

“I know that Joel,” she murmured quietly.

“I wish we were closer, Brooke,” he said, putting his hands gently on her shoulders.  “When you were gone, I felt like I knew you and yet, at the same time, I hardly knew you at all.  Do not perceive me the wrong
way, my intentions are fully honorable; I just want to be close to you, Brooke.  I just want to be close to you, to protect you.”

Brooke wanted to tell him that she did not need protecting from the pirate he was thinking of, but he knew Joel was emotional now, and did not want to push him.  He pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“I want that too,” Brooke said in his chest.  “I want that too, Joel.”

Joel kept his promise; he and Brooke became incredibly close.  Fiona was rather suspicious of their bonding, but Brooke continually reassured her that his intentions were fully honorable, and that she suspected Joel was only getting close to her to get close to Fiona.  That seemed to make Fiona happy, and so they were a trio once again.  But Joel would never replace Charlie.

The day had finally come; her twenty-first birthday.  This day was supposed to be celebratory, and yet she felt like she was signing her own soul away.  That morning, she walked outside with a book in her hand, and she took a seat underneath the tree that had provided Charlie a means to get into her room so long ago.  She leaned her back against the bark, and opened her book to start reading
Richard the Second
.  Brooke had always been a fan of Shakespeare, especially his sonnets.  She had read nearly every single work of his, save for
Richard the Second
and
King Leer
, as well as reading every single work that was written about him.  She had always been fascinated about the surrounding controversy about the real authorship of Shakespeare, and personally believed that the man from Stratford-upon-Avon really did write his work.  But who really knew?

After finishing the first act, she placed a piece of ribbon in the book to save her page and then looked up into the sky.  Her heart was fluttering painfully; her mind had wandered to Charlie.  She could not forget him, even if she tried.  His face always seemed to pop in and out of her mind at the most inappropriate times.  She hoped he was safe, and wondered if maybe he was thinking about her.  Did he remember his promise to rescue her?  Would he go through with it?  Did he even remember that today was her
birthday, that she would be married today?  His chiseled face, his arrogant smile that made his teeth shimmer in the sunlight, his deep, dark eyes outlined in coal, his long, pointed nose, his angled jaw line, his soft lips.  Even his scent was trapped in her memory, although it had disappeared long ago from his trench coat.  She missed him terribly, and yet she hoped he would continue living his life fully, without worrying about her.

“Mum, let’s get you ready, yeah?” Liz called from the doorway.

Brooke sighed as fear and anxiousness coursed through her bloodstream.  She allowed Liz to lead her back into her house, up the stairs, and into her room.  Fiona was already waiting, and for the next three hours, they got her ready for her big day.  She was wearing a long white gown.  The sleeves were puffy, the cut was low, and the skirt of the dress flared out two inches wide.  Not only was it suffocating, but she could hardly move in it as well.  Liz painted her face like a China doll, while Fiona tied her hair into an intricate bun.  She hated the way she looked.  The corset she was wearing was too tight, and her cleavage was pushed up much too high for her level of comfort.

“Almost time, mum,” Liz said, glancing at the grandfather clock that rested against Brooke’s wall.  “How ‘bout
me and Fiona leave you some time alone for a few minutes, hmm?”

Brooke nodded.  “That is very thoughtful, Liz, thank you,” she said, glancing out the window.  She didn’t watch them walk out, but made sure she heard the click of the door as at it shut.

Charlie cursed the heavens above for the unscheduled rainfall.  He was merely in a small boat and could not simply go to shelter as his previous ship allowed.  His impatience only grew and grew for every wave that seemed to push his ship away from his desired destination.  Every drop represented the tears Brooke would cry because Charlie was not there to rescue his companion. 

Was she being married right now?  Would he be too late?  He hoped to God not.  Grace suggested an early departure in case it rained.  Charlie told her rain would not fall, but alas, he was wrong, and he silently thanked Grace for making him go.

Charlie was fully changed into the priest’s uniform as soon as his boat docked.  He had taken the liberty to temporarily borrow Grace’s boat without actually fully telling her; merely mentioning it in passing.  He had every intent on returning it once Brooke was safe and sound with him, and he knew Grace could never stay mad at him, so he was not necessarily worried about getting found out.  Charlie had combed his shaggy brown hair back, and shaved the whiskers around his moustache and a patch of hair on his chin.  The coal around his eyes was washed away completely, and the uniform he wore hid his dirty tunic and worn breeches.  The only article of clothing that was showing that related back to the pirate captain was his worn brown boots.  They were mostly covered by the long, black robes.

When Charlie docked, he charmingly asked the dock master to refer him to the wedding of Lord Sutherland and Miss Brooke Cunningham.  The dock master eagerly obliged, and after Charlie received all the necessary information, he thanked the older man, blessed him, and made his way toward the Cunningham residence.

As he walked toward the mansion, thoughts began to flood his mind much like this rain hitting the small town hard.  What if she actually fell in love with Sutherland?  What if she had fallen in love with someone else?  What if she didn’t want to be rescued, and Charlie was risking himself for nothing?  But it didn’t matter.  He would show up just in case.  There would be millions of reasons how this was going to fail, whether it was getting caught or that Brooke had completely changed her mind and did not want to leave Port Royal.  He would take the chance, however.  He would fulfill his promise, no matter the ending result.

The sky was dark, and the only way Charlie could make his way through the town was the dim light from the houses and shops.  Voices increased, noise increased, music increased…  Was Charlie too late?  No, no, they couldn’t start the wedding without him.  He was nearly as important as the bride or groom.  He began to quicken his pace, feeling himself get wetter and wetter as the drops increased.  Lightning flashed, and he looked up.  A figure in a window caught his eyes; all he could see was a white dress but in that moment, he knew that was her.  That was Brooke.  He quickened his pace to a light jog, and as thunder crashed around him, echoing throughout the town, he was dashing.  He did not know why he was in such a desperate need to see her at that moment, but he needed to.  He needed to hold her in his arms, to take her away from this horrible captivity.  And then it would be the two of them, as it was when they were stranded on the island.

Charlie hurried as fast as he could to the home, but by the time he walked through the door, he was soaked to the bone.  A sneeze escaped from him, indicating his presence.  Heads turned; everyone who lived in Port Royal seemed to be there.

“Father
Barbarey!” Master Cunningham exclaimed.  “You are here!”

“The wedding can
finally
begin,” Lord Sutherland put in, glaring at Charlie.

“I realize I am late, and I do apologize for my tardiness,” Charlie said.  “However, before we start this here shindig, do you mind if I dry off a bit so I do not catch a deathly cold?”

The thunder sounded then, echoing through the small town.  It caused most of the guests to jump, and some even let out a scream of surprise.

“We have been waiting for quite a while for you to show up,” Sutherland calmly pointed out.

“So then what’s another five minutes?” Charlie continued, and then sneezed once again.

“God, bless you, Father!” a guest exclaimed.

“And you as well,” Charlie said with a smirk.  Before Sutherland could respond to Charlie’s inquiries, the faux-Father placed his hands together in a manner of prayer.  “I do thank you kindly, sir.  You’re a doll!”

Then, before Sutherland could protest, Charlie disappeared up the stairs.

“Is anything the matter, Lord Sutherland?” Master Cunningham asked the man with surprise.

Lord Sutherland was still staring off after Charlie.

Charlie knew exactly where Brooke’s room was.  He didn’t waste time with knocking, he simply opened the door and stepped in.  Brooke’s head turned to see who it was, and her mouth dropped when she recognized who it was.  Upon first glance, Charlie Colt did not look like the dashing pirate captain that he was; he looked liked a Catholic priest.  But Brooke recognized his nose, one of her favorite parts of him, and knew that beneath the robes, Charlie Colt had fulfilled his promise and had come to rescue her.

Charlie took in the sight of Brooke.  She was beautiful, but he preferred her when her face was not made up.  Here, she appeared to be wearing a mask, hiding herself under the layers of paint that decorated her face.

“Well, you look… interesting,” he said with a smirk.

Brooke suppressed a grin as she walked towards him.  When she got within a foot from him, she stopped, and tilted her head to the side, taking him in.  He was really there before her.

“Is that a compliment, Captain Colt?” she asked him softly.

“Take it what you will,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her.

“Then I take it as a compliment,” she said with a dazzling smile.  Her smile slipped from her face as thunder crashed around the mansion.  “You actually came,” she murmured.

“I told you I would,” Charlie said.

“I know… but,” she said, and then finally looked him up and down.  She let out a low chuckle.  “You realize you
are
going to Hell for this one, correct?” she asked, gesturing at his outfit.

“Actually, I had the priest’s consent to marry you,” Charlie said, glancing down at his attire.  “He even let me borrow the outfit.”

“I still say you lied to a priest,” Brooke said, arching her brow.  Oh, that brow.  No matter how much Charlie hated it, he was glad he could see it once again.

“Only a little,” Charlie said,
squinting his forefinger and thumb so there was only a sliver or space in between them.  “I missed that,” he said, motioning to her brow.  She lowered it self-consciously.  “No matter how much it got on my nerves, I missed that brow.”

“There are so many things I wish to tell you Charlie,” Brooke murmured back, looking at him as if she needed to say as much as she possibly could in that moment because he might disappear in the blink of an eye.

Charlie pushed his finger to her lips. “Not now, love,” he murmured back.  “We will catch up once we’re safe and away from here.”  He paused.  “And catch up we will.”  He glanced around.  “Now to get out of here…”

             
“Actually, I do not think I would be able to move, let alone breathe in this dress if my life depended on it,” Brooke said, motioning to her dress.

             
“Well, your life does depend on it,” Charlie said.  “Is there any way you can slip out of this?”

             
“I can slip out of the skirts rather quickly,” Brooke said, detaching the skirts that connected to the dress.  “But the corset is too tight to undo in mere minutes.”  She slid down the skirts so the bottom half of her under gown was showing.

             
Charlie thought quickly.  “Please forgive me for this,” he told her, reaching underneath his robe so his hand connected with the hilt of his dagger on his belt.  He whipped it out and slid the dagger down the middle of Brooke’s corset so it fell into pieces on the floor.

             
Brooke looked at him in surprise.  She was standing there merely in her under gown.  An idea suddenly popped into her head and she quickly grabbed the trench coat he had given her so long ago, and slipped it on. 

“Anything else you need?” Charlie asked impatiently.

Brooke rolled her eyes and grabbed Charlie’s hand and led him toward the window.  The trusted tree was still sturdy, however wet it might be.  She jumped from the sill to the branch, and Charlie followed suit, without question. Brooke was so grateful she was wearing flats instead of heals, and she managed to maintain her balance until she came in contact with the trunk.  From there, she stepped on a lower branch, still holding onto the trunk, and then made her way to the ground.  Her hair was now a mess, along with her face, and after Charlie landed next to her, Brooke followed him to the docks.  She was free, finally free.  Three months of waiting and Charlie did not let her down.

They managed to slip by the dock master, who was trying to get salvage from the storm. “We are never going to get out of here,” Brooke said. “The storm’s too rough.” She wondered if her wedding audience realized that the bride and priest had run away together.

“Well, we can’t stay here…” Charlie said, rolling his eyes and glancing about.  Perfect, this was just perfect.  He knew something would end up going wrong.  A perfect, flawless plan, and a flaw managed to show up.

Brooke thought for a minute. “I know where we can stay the night,” she said, and with that, she grabbed Charlie’s hand and led him back into town.  “No one will find us.  It would be like we were never here.”  Luckily, the storm had caused people to go inside and close shop early, and the dark blanketed them.  No one was looking at all.

“Love, this is just me,” Charlie began, letting Brooke drag him through the empty town, “but they will soon be looking for you.  Why are we heading back into town?”