The Pirate Ruse (33 page)

Instantly,
Vienne pulled her hand from Cristabel’s, fairly leaping from her seat.

“Please!
Please, Vienne!” Cristabel begged in a whisper, else Christophe should hear them and intrude. “You promised you would not run from me! Please…I must speak with you.”

“Is he here?”
Vienne gasped, tears springing to her eyes to escape over her cheeks. “Is Trevon here with you?” She was near to panic.

“Please,
Vienne,” Cristabel soothed. “Please just listen to me…to my confession.”

Vienne
frowned. “Your confession? What more could you confess than to tell me you have trapped me for my brother? And you have, haven’t you? You have come here at Trevon’s bidding.”

“I have come here of my own bidding,
Vienne,” Cristabel said. “Please…I have more to tell you…that I must tell you.”

“Where is he?”
Vienne demanded, however. “Where is Trevon? Is he already here?”

Cristabel shook her head.
“No. He waits across the way. But please, Vienne…there is more I must confess. You promised you would not flee.”

“That was before I knew you meant to trap me!”
Vienne cried in a whisper.

“I do not mean to trap you,” Cristabel said.
“I mean to speak with you…to confess the great wrong I have done you and your brother.”

“Great wrong?”
Vienne asked. “What great wrong could you have done me? I have been wronged many times, girl…and nothing you offer can compare.”

“Please
, only hear me,” Cristabel begged. “You promised.”

Vienne
glanced beyond Cristabel, out into the other room.

“He is not here,” Cristabel said.

Vienne sat down once more. “Tell me this wrong you have done me,” she demanded. “Though I warn you…nothing you could have done would be worse than the fact you led my brother to me.”

Cristabel sighed
, relieved Vienne had kept her promise—at least for the moment. She inhaled a deep breath and told Vienne the whole of it then. She told Vienne of being prisoner aboard the
Merry Wench
, of the second battle with the crew of the
Screaming Witch
. She told her of James Kelley, of his feeling of indebtedness, and of the pirate ruse they had contrived. She told her of William and Richard Pelletier—and of Trevon’s anger. She told her then of having been in La Petite Grenouille following the meeting with Governor Claiborne—and of having recognized Vienne from the painting.

Cristabel brushed tears from her cheeks.
“I did not tell Trevon I had seen you…the woman from the painting that hangs in his cabin. I-I did not know you were his sister. I thought you were perhaps a lover of his past…and I was afraid he would come for you. Thus, I did not tell him…not until your mother told me of the
Wasp
and
Victoria’s Revenge
…that you had been taken by pirates…and killed.”

“My mother?”
Vienne exclaimed in a whisper. “How is it that you came to speak with my mother?”

Cristabel wiped more tears from her cheeks as
Vienne dabbed at her own tears.

“Trevon did not know what to do with me
, for he meant the Pelletiers to think me dead,” Cristabel explained. “He could not return me to my mother…or to anyone else. Furthermore, he had promised not to kill me. Therefore, with no alternative before him, he sailed me with them to the bay…the hidden pirate community where the crew of the
Merry Wench
and their families reside. Your mother was there…and was very kind to me…even after I confessed what I had done to you and Trevon.”

“Is she well?”
Vienne asked. “My mother? Is…is she well?”

“She is well,” Cristabel said
, “though she painfully misses her daughter.”

Vienne
glanced away. “She would not miss me so if she knew what I have become.”

“She misses you…and loves you…no matter what you have endured.
As does Trevon,” Cristabel said, reaching across the table and taking Vienne’s hand. She was encouraged when Vienne did not pull her hand away but rather squeezed Cristabel’s in return.

Vienne
shook her head. “No. No…I am dead to them, I am certain,” she said. “Rackham Henry captured me…and I do not remember what I endured. My mind will not allow me to remember it. Though I do remember the pain…the terrible pain piercing my entire body when I awoke on the shore. A fisherman found me and took me to his kind wife. They told me they did not know how I survived Rackham Henry…but I did. I have a brief wisp of a memory of standing on the bridge of
Victoria’s Revenge
…of gazing into the sea and thinking death would be welcome. I somehow knew the ship was close to some shore. I remember thinking that I was a good swimmer…that perhaps I could make my way to the shore and freedom. But if I drowned in trying…it would be better than remaining where I was. That is all I remember of it.” She looked to Cristabel, frowning with agony, more tears traveling over her cheeks. “Yet I know what happened, though I do not remember. I know what abuse I endured aboard
Victoria’s Revenge
.”

Cristabel wiped tears from her eyes
, her heart aching for Vienne’s pain, both physical and otherwise. “Did you not remember your mother and brother then either? Was the memory of those who love and miss you also taken from your mind?”

Vienne
swallowed and shook her head ashamedly. “No. No…I well remember Trevon and Mother—Father and Vortigem as well.” She paused, weeping. “But I could not return to them…not when I was so…so entirely ruined.” She sobbed a moment and then inhaled a calming breath. “So…I found work here. Christophe is cruel…even abusive at times. Yet he does not lay hands on his serving wenches…not in the same way a pirate does. Christophe may strike me if I do not serve well, but he does not touch me otherwise.” She forced a hopeful smile. “It is not so terrible a thing to work hard here…and to be safe from…from the abuse of men. Is it?”

Cristabel shook her head
, knowing she must proceed with understanding. “No, Vienne. It is not so terrible a thing.”

“I could not face them,”
Vienne said. “I could not allow my mother to see what I have become. I could not allow Trevon to see it.” She gazed at Cristabel, wiping more tears from her eyes. “I am ruined, pretty girl. Ruined. There is no mending me…my body or my mind.”

“You are not ruined,
Vienne,” Cristabel said, taking her hand once more.

Vienne
studied Cristabel a moment, her eyes narrowing with a rather inquisitive expression.

“Are you in love with my brother then?” she asked.

Cristabel winced—struggled to keep from melting into sobs.

“I am,” she admitted.

“And he is, no doubt, wildly in love with you,” Vienne added, smiling a little.

Cristabel’s tears increased their profusion over her cheeks as she shook her head.
“No,” she whispered, “for I have wronged him…in not telling him I saw you that night. I mean now to make amends in whatever small, pitiful way that I can.”

“You mean to bring me to him
as your venue of repentance…that you may win him again,” Vienne said.

“No,” Cristabel said, shaking her head.
“I mean to reunite you and Trevon and your mother…because it is right…and will bring him happiness I can never give him.”

“I cannot face them,”
Vienne said. “I am in ruin…broken, unworthy.”

“You did nothing wrong,
Vienne!” Cristabel insisted through her tears. “You are still Vienne…beloved daughter and sister. Their love for you is unconditional! There have been two years of this pain…and it was needless. Please…please come with me. Trevon has had a room at the inn across the way prepared for you. Please! You need only rise and walk with me from this painful life.”

Yet
Vienne shook her head. “No! No!” she breathed as she wept. “You do not understand. I can never return. I am worn and weathered. I cannot face them…for I know what their thoughts toward me would be.”

“That they love you with all their hearts and will only be glad to embrace you once more…to kiss your cheeks and see you smile!” Cristabel pleaded.

“No,” Vienne said. “I am ruined. I am not worthy of happiness…or a life filled with loving people. No.” She looked to Cristabel, pain so evident in her beautiful blue eyes that Cristabel’s own heart near broke. “Once you have endured terrible things, you cannot undo them. You are changed…and worthless.”

Cristabel fought to keep from dropping to her knees and begging
Vienne to come with her. It would be her next course, pleading with sheer desperation. She did not want Trevon to rush in and take his sister by force. Vienne had no doubt endured too much force already. She wanted her to choose to go—to realize that her family was waiting and would love her without condition.

Cristabel suddenly gasped
, for inspiration was upon her. Reaching into the front of her dress, she removed the two silver pieces of eight from their hiding place between her breasts. She had brought the silver in order to purchase passage to New Orleans. Yet now—now she knew they were meant to serve another purpose.

“Vienne,” she began
, placing the two pieces of eight in her palm and offering them toward Vienne, “what do you see here…in my palm?”

Vienne
brushed the tears from her cheeks and shook her head with not understanding what cause Cristabel could have to show her the two pieces of eight.

“Please,” Cristabel whispered.
“Tell me what you see.”

Brushing more tears from her cheeks,
Vienne answered, “Two pieces of eight. Two silver Spanish coins.”

“Yes,” Cristabel said.
“Now tell me…which coin has the most worth?”

Vienne
frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Which coin holds greater value?” Cristabel asked.

Vienne shook her head, still confused. “They are of equal value,” she answered.

“But this coin is more recently minted,” Cristabel said
, placing the new coin on the table before Vienne. “It is not tarnished or worn.” Cristabel then placed the second coin on the table before Vienne. “This coin is older. It has seen travel and is weathered. It has collected soil and is not so shiny as the other coin. And yet you claim that it is of the same worth as the coin that is not so worn and tarnished.”

“Yes,”
Vienne whispered. Cristabel saw tears renewing in Vienne’s blue eyes as understanding began to enter her mind.

“Are not all God’s children beloved of him?” she asked.
“Are not we all of the same worth and value in his eyes?” She paused, again offering the two pieces of eight to Vienne. “All pieces of eight are of equivalent worth…tarnished and worn or shiny and new. Each will bring the same price; each will purchase the same wares. Each is beautiful in its own regard. The new one because it glistens, its etchings clear and strong. Yet the weathered coin, it knows experience…perhaps ill experience. It is not so unsullied as the new coin, but it owns full as much value…is full as precious as the other.”

Vienne
accepted the coins—studied them. “It is a beautiful sentiment,” she said.

“It is true
, and it was given to me by your mother…just as the coins were,” Cristabel said.

Vienne
covered her mouth with one hand, attempting to silence her sobbing.

“Trevon has been weathered too,
Vienne,” Cristabel said. Vienne looked up to her, an expression of astonishment on her tear-streaked face. “He has carried the burden of your death…blamed only himself for your torture and murder. He has become, as you well know, a privateer…living in isolation and without hope of happiness.”

“It was no fault of his!”
Vienne exclaimed.

“And it was no fault of yours,” Cristabel reminded her.
“It was the fault of the villains in the world and the devil who instructs them. You are a victim, Vienne. And now…now it is time to empower yourself with strength and hope. You know your mother loves you still. Would not you still love your own daughter? You know your brother loves you…that he too fights self-loathing at every turn.” She reached out, closing Vienne’s fingers over the two coins and gripping her hand. “Come with me, Vienne. Choose to walk from this wretched place of your own will! Your brother waits for you just across the way…and your mother waits to hold you in her arms once more.”

“Mother?”
Vienne breathed.

“Yes,” Cristabel assured her.
“Your mother is there. If you come with me, I am to take you to your room so that you may bathe and prepare yourself to see them. I-I explained to Trevon that you might need some time to…to prepare. But they are both there, waiting for you…loving you as much as ever they did before you were parted from them.”

“But Christophe…Christophe will be enraged,”
Vienne offered.

Cristabel smiled.
“Do you truly think Christophe would risk provoking the pirate Navarrone? Navarrone the Blue Blade? Over a serving wench?”