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Black Angel
Lord Anthony Newport stood on the deck of the passenger ship ready to disembark in St. George, Bermuda. As they were eased into the berth he saw a face long lost in his past on a ship already in port. The last time he had seen that face it was powdered white, dark hair tightly curled, patches on her face, and she wore a low cut dress. Her face had not changed much on the last 10 years since he had seen her, but her circumstance surely had. She wore a long black coat over a loose linen shirt, black britches, high black boots to over her knees, and a short crowned top hat as she passionately kissed a man. He knew who the man was even though he had never met him. She and the man were gone when he was finally able to leave the ship. He wandered through the narrow streets first finding a horse and then a tavern. Stepping inside he knew that we was out of his usual social climate. His bright pastel blue clothes edged in gold lace, his powdered face, his heavy wig, and patches on his face were the only ones in the entire establishment. Those inside though well off and perhaps even well born were much more relaxed. Their faces tanned in the south Atlantic sun, their hair natural, their clothes fine and well made and yet unadorned compared to his own. They were still rich compared to the lesser folk of Bermuda though. A man well into his drink came over to him as he sat.
"May I join you sir?"
"Please do. I would love to know the way things lay."
"You speak of something specific I gather?"
"Was that truly a woman I saw dressed in man's clothes on the deck of the Black Angel I believe it was?"
"Ah yes Madame Villenueve, her husband has ships in the merchant trade. They are her working clothes. She flaunts convention working at her husbands' enterprises, but no one can persuade her to stop sailing with him most times."
"Her husband?"
"A Frenchman named Jean Baptiste Villenueve they came here 7 years ago with their children."
"Their children?"
"Do you
continually ask a question with every answer you receive?"
"Forgive me I was thinking of something else just then. Now what
enterprises are there for a man to make his fortune on this island from?" Into
his fourth drink and 18th potential way to make money the woman
herself entered the tavern to his great surprise. He looked over the lady as
she drank a glass of wine and smoked a short cigar, but she never noticed him as
she and the bartender deliberated what sounded like an order for the tavern for
their next sailing. 10 casks of rum, 5 of port, 3 of brandy, 10 of fine French
wine, 2 of sherry, and 15 of ale. If that was just from one tavern then they
indeed ran a brisk business he thought to himself. He looked over the lady
closely as she drank; it was the same long dark hair that curled naturally, the
same angular face darker now than he remembered and deep set brown eyes. It was
the same thin nose and full mouth that the corner of which twitched when she was
trying to keep from smiling as she listened to a story the bartender told her.
She was small and delicate with an enchanting smile. There were several she was
mistress to before she had left London so the rumors went Lord Haversham, the
Duke of Ravenswood, Lord Gromwell. He couldn't blame any of them in their
taste. She was quite an attractive woman even in men's clothes and even if it
had been 10 years since he had seen her and her children were almost in their
teens he knew she was barely 30 even now. He almost missed her leaving with his
ponderings.
"Excuse me, but I think I seen an opportunity right now." He explained cryptically and he followed her out the door. She rode her horse without a care in the world. She never knew he was there. They left the town on a vegetation-enclosed road. Palm trees surrounded by blue plumbago, pink and white oleander, purple and red bougainvillea, Easter lilies, yellow, peach, red, pink, and white hibiscus, and cedar trees all perfumed the air as he rode. All of it was well cared for and looked as if it was kept as a garden. It took awhile before Newport realized that they had indeed passed a gate long before and he was riding in someone's estate. For over 30 minutes they rode before there was a bend in the road and he lost sight of her when they came in view of the house. It was neoclassical house of white with black shutters that opened at the bottom to withstand the winds that plagued the island. Out back was the cistern that caught the water that collected on the roof when it rained. There was no sign of anyone in sight, but he could hear the murmur of voices from somewhere. Anthony sat there on his horse until he saw shadows through the windows. Only then did he knock on the door. A buxom blond maid answered the door.
"Who is it Peregrine?" It was the same voice of an angel he had heard speaking to the King years before.
"He says his name is Lord Newport my lady."
"Very well bring him to me." Anthony was lead into the dining room where she sat in a fine dress of dark burgundy brocade highlighted with Venetian lace, her hair arranged prettily to highlight large ruby earrings. He hadn't thought he had sat there long enough for her to have changed so fully. The room was filled with the finest furniture available in every country of Europe with a dark stained open beam ceiling to frame it all. The furniture was without a doubt expensive and tasteful, but it lacked the ostentatious flair of London and he was sure even in the Governor's palace. It was more like a grand country home, old and comfortable.
Anthony bowed gracefully as Peregrine left them, but when he looked up again there was a look in his eyes that she objected to immediately.
"Madame Villenueve so they tell me you call yourself these days."
"Who in the hell are you? What gave you the presumption you could come into my house and insult me in such a way?"
"As your maid said I am Lord Anthony Newport. We have met in case the lady has forgotten, I was younger then, but then of course so were you." Her eyes narrowed at his words. Anthony moved closer to her and leaned over her chair. His face was mere inches from hers. She could smell his stale breath spiked with alcohol. She felt like gagging. He lowered his eyes and gazed down her dress front before raising them once again.
"The dogs will be eating your liver for dinner if you lay one finger on me you currish barnacle." As if to add menace to the threat the dogs started barking loudly at another's approach. He looked at her wearily and stood up. He backed away slowly away until he was a few feet from her.
"My what language from a lady. You really should spend less time at the docks. I just figured considering the talk at court what's one more dalliance. It was the more agreeable payment in my eyes, but perhaps you'd prefer to pay the price in coin for my silence."
She stood slowly. "About what pray tell?"
"You're husband; your true husband has offered his generosity to anyone who can tell him where his bitch of a wife is. That was some years ago he expressed that opinion, but seeing as you prevent him from marrying another with higher rank at that and producing more legal heirs to his title and estates I would imagine his offer still stands. After all being a good Christian he couldn't lie that you were dead it would have to be true. And I'm sure all these fine people that you have made friends with would be more than happy to run you from your home when they find that their neighbor is nothing more than a whore to a French pirate she ran off with. Would they hang him do you think?" When there was no glib comeback or bolster to hide the truth he knew he had her.
"And what is your price Lord Newport?"
"Your husband would pay have paid a 1,000 pounds I think you paying 5,000 would be a fair profit for me for keeping my silence."
"You have to leave this island alive to tell him of my whereabouts."
"And your neighbors?" He sneered.
"You have to leave this house alive. Do you think I would sit by and let you destroy my family just because I refuse to pay your blackmail?" Lord Newport suddenly rushed her; his hand was over her mouth before she could call out for the servants or the dogs. He had her down on the table; his hefty bulk held her trapped against the table unable to move.
"Then I will just have to take it out of your hide before I leave like all the others have." His free hand was pushing up her skirt, but she didn't scream for help even when he removed his hand to try and remove her clothes even further. The plates on the table clattered to the floor and shattered. Feeling his hands on her she fought violently and he soon sported a gashed cheek as she was able to wrench one hand free. "Come come my lady you were kissing your French pirate like a proper whore. Open up." The maid ran in when the pistol shot rang through the air unexpectedly. Smoke hung in the air as Peregrine screamed. Antoine, Peregrine's own husband came running and was first on the scene followed shortly thereafter by her ‘husband' Jean Baptiste.
"Isabelle!" He pulled the Lord off her as Antoine took hold of his own wife. "Get her quiet before she lets the entire household knows what happened." Antoine held her mouth to his shoulder so the sound was muffled. "What happened?"
"He wanted payment to keep him from telling Edward where we are and telling everyone in St. George what you were."
Jean Baptiste growled. "We have more than enough to have paid him off."
"And I refused to pay it Jean Baptiste. I left a man who beat me and the children, drank to excess, and gambled away both of our fortunes and my family home and on top of that tried to get his debts forgiven by pandering me out like some whore which that man threw in my face like I had gone through with it. I was not going to be blackmailed by anyone threatening to take me back to the likes of him or have you hung as a pirate, crimes that were done in a time of war with your governments' approval." The maid was huffing still out of breath when she was let go.
"I am sorry my lady for my scream I am better now. But Madame the Governor is to be here for dinner in 15 minutes." Peregrine had been with Isabelle even before she had run away from her husband. She was used to odd things happening, but a dead man was still out of the ordinary. Antoine had been Jean Baptiste's man before he had met Isabelle more than that he had been one of his crew. He and Peregrine had married despite his being some 20 years more than her 22 at the time. His long hair was gray now. The rest of the house was filled with local servants that could not be trusted with their master and mistress's secret.
"He'll be moved. Tell the others if they ask that I was testing my pistol after I cleaned it and it came close to hitting Peregrine when she came to get me for dinner. Antoine help me get him out of here. See we leave nothing to give us away."
"My Lord Greenleigh!" Isabelle announced grandly in a new blue velvet dress with sapphires at her ears as the Governor was shown in. He was a large portly fellow with heavy jowls half hidden under his enormous wig that stood some 5 inches high and fell to near his waist. His pale green outfit was covered in silver embroidery and silver lace making him outshine the candle. It didn't however do anything to hide his bulk or improve his looks.
"Ah my dear Isabelle and where is your husband?" He was too intent on peering down her dress to notice her hand shaking slightly as she went to fill him a goblet of Venetian glass with sherry.
"I was held up loading a ship. Please forgive me." The Governor pulled his gaze away from the bust of his host at the sound of Jean Baptiste's voice. He turned to find the tall muscular man they both knew. He too had long dark hair, but in his case it was dark hair that curled naturally as he wore no wig to cover it up. He had a strong face that was angular he wore no powder. Despite his excuse the Governor knew that he still wouldn't have done anything to change the way he looked for the meeting. He had refused to shave and his hair was only tied back for the occasion. His dark skin was proof that he worked outside on the ships he owned. They were profitable for the island bringing in all sorts of goods. The Governor chose to forgive his lapses in dress, business healed all wounds. His own wife though refused to associate with the likes of him or his wife despite that if it weren't for them she wouldn't have the extensive wardrobe that she bragged about. They were not titled and had no mighty family connections to gain them entry into her circles. What Isabelle kept to herself was that she was indeed titled her father had been a Duke and she his only heir. Duchess by birth after all out ranked a mere Lady by marriage she cared little enough about their circles to express that little tidbit of gossip.
"My Lord dinner is served." Peregrine announced as she entered the room. With his wife not even acknowledging his existence it meant they had to entertain the Governor at their house on a regular basis no matter how much they really didn't like the man. It was the only way to keep his good graces and get his help in furthering their business prospects.
"And what are we having this evening?" He asked as he dropped his gloves obliging the maid to pick them up letting him gaze down her dress fully. It was a game they played every time he came to dinner. Peregrine looked up and found her mistresses hands shaking. With a flick of her eyes Jean Baptiste saw his wife's state and was moving across the room to take care of it. Peregrine started her litany of the menu while still bending down keeping the Governors attention from other matters in the room.
"A salad of baby carrots, marinated salmon, pigeons with rice in the French fashion, a salad of watercress and violets, a rabbit stewed in herbs, a roast pheasant with artichoke dressing, boiled lupins, a gammon of bacon in pastry, a Turkish dish of meat, buttered peasecods, French bread and sourdough barley bread, a Rhine wine, Italian cream, a parmesan savory and figs." As she stood the Governor finally turned and found his hosts kissing. He coughed and Isabelle turned red at being caught or so he thought anyway. The whisper in her ear would have turned anyone red, but it took her mind off other matters and her hand steadied.
"A fine feast to mark our new venture going through. Please lead on." The Governor looked over at Jean Baptiste as he was sitting at the table. He could see how a lady as refined as Isabelle would have been attracted to a man like Jean Baptiste despite his rugged ways. He was handsome and he was the complete opposite of all including himself. It was well known he had protected his wife to the detriment of his own body when pirates attacked their ship. He had seen the scars himself when Jean Baptiste was removed his shirt working one day at the dock. Theirs was not a marriage of convenience their match. He listened to her opinion in all matters preferred her with him than staying at home looking pretty. Everyone considered Isabelle the best-dressed and jeweled woman on the island even if she resorted to men's clothes to work in.
They looked over their glasses at each other, as the Governor talked on every topic imaginable that had no relevance to them. An entire conversation was carried on between them without a word spoken out loud. Meanwhile even if he was the Governor he still dropped names as if he was fighting to get their approval. Only when he changed the topic did their ears tune him in once more.
"So I was supposed to meet with a Lord newly arrived on the island, but the fellow never showed up for his appointment. He was a cousin to my wife 3rd son of the Earl of Chester; down on his luck you know he lost all his fortune last year on a bad investment. I was thinking of asking you if you could find a place for him in your business. Since he never showed up I guess neither of us will have to feel awkward about asking of the favor. He was a damnable bore. I never liked him." The governor drank a glass of the excellent wine he was served and began laughing. "Wouldn't surprise me one bit if one of his old cronies did him in for some past indiscretion." Jean Baptiste joined him in his humor, but Isabelle wasn't biting. "I know Madame Villenueve the joke was in bad taste, but I do hope he never arrives at my door." He watched the corner of her mouth twitch slightly, but the smile never came to her lips. Still he knew that she held him in no disregard for his joke. "To never seeing my wife's cousin, the damned foot-licker. God help us."
That night unbeknownst to the Governor Lord Anthony Newport was dropped of the side of the Black Angel never to be seen again. The Duchess and the French pirate kept their secret safe.