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The Only Rules That Matter: Afterlife (TheCorsair, Madam Mim)

"You're not English." Jenny leaned against the rail as she watched a heron swoop low over the lake. "English isn't a nationality, my love. It's a state of mind. And you don't feel it's your literal God-given right to sail halfway around the world and tell someone they belong to you now." She smiled wanly. "I like the Americans. They're plucky."

It was nice to see someone throwing off the yolk of oppressive colonialism. She watched as her husband paced the deck while he decided to also route for the underdog. At least that was something. They had something to look forward to now. Her eyebrows raised in mild surprise when he informed her of the invitation from the wealthy widow DeLorean; she'd been unaware that he'd forged any social bonds over the long winter.

"Good a plan as any," she said with a shrug. "Not like there's anything else to do."

The truth was that Detroit bored Jenny. Not that she cared particularly about what was fashionable, but after half a century of traveling and seeing the wonders of the world a city had to be nothing short of incredible to hold her attention. Detroit was not incredible. She had been ready to move on after a week in port, convinced that she had seen all there was to be seen and met all the interesting people there were to meet. Over the winter she had discovered the latter to be untrue: there was a tribe of Iroquois outside the city, near the river, who were friendly enough. Both she and they had expressed polite curiosity and exchanged pleasantries a few times; one of the braves had even taught her how to spear fish, impressed that a white woman would be willing to go into the cold river. But even spear fishing wasn't enough to keep her mind from Greece and Taiwan and France... Where the news had come to them shortly after they'd left that Nat's wife had been murdered on the side of the road by bandits. That had been troubling.

But a party ought to be enough to entertain her at least temporarily. Widow DeLorean's estate was enormous and tastefully furnished, and a few of their winter aquatintances were there.

"Let's just hope this is a party where something actually happens," Jenny murmured to her husband out of the corner of her mouth while smiling and waving at some local mutton-chopped industrialist.

"Why, Captain Crane you made it!" A beautiful young brunette came swanning over, all smiles and charm. "I'm ever so delighted. Oh, and I see you've brought Mrs. Crane."

Jenny took her hand and inclined her head a little. "Mrs. DeLorean, a pleasure as always." She smiled. She was a girl, really; far too young to be a widow. And far too pretty.

"Oh please, how many times must I ask you to call me Aurinda?"

Polite laughter. Tight smiles. Small talk. No, nothing interesting would happen at this party. The widow glanced out at the dance floor.

"I suppose you've already tired yourselves with dancing, eh Captain?" she asked, clearly fishing.
 
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“A party where something actually happens?” John smiled quickly, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Just say the word, love, and I’ll liven it up right quick!” He grinned. “Just add rum, right?”

A drunken brawl probably wasn’t what Jenny actually had in mind, but it would be something. Detroit has its charms, but most of them had worn off quickly. And an occupied city was only fun if you were smuggling, not if you were just waiting around. Especially not if you were just waiting around for the one t attempt to relieve the occupation.

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“Why, Captain Crane you made it!" [/BGCOLOR]

It took John a split second to remember that he was Captain Crane, and then he see himself up and bowed. “I wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. DeLorean,” he replied, only lying a little as he kissed her hand. He’d spent his time in Detroit playing his role, which meant moving in the right circles. The samecitcles That the widowed Aurinda DeLorean moved in.

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]She smiled. "I'm ever so delighted. Oh, and I see you've brought Mrs. Crane."[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]Was there a touch of frost in her words? She was always a gracious hostess, but she always seemed a little happier when Henny wasn’t around. “But of course,” he replied. “We wouldn’t have missed it.”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]Jenny took her hand and inclined her head a little. "Mrs. DeLorean, a pleasure as always." [/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]"Oh please, how many times must I ask you to call me Aurinda?” She glanced sideways, then gestured. “Oh, and have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Anthony Dahwah?”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]The [/BGCOLOR][BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]man in question[/BGCOLOR][BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)] was, John was sure, one of the local Indians. He was dressed in a fashionable suit, but it was hard to miss the distinctive feature and skin tone, or the her black hair he wore in a long braid. “A pleasure,” he said in a low, deep voice, bowing to John and kissing Jenny's hand. [/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]The widow glanced out at the dance floor.[/BGCOLOR][BGCOLOR=rgb(37, 49, 58)] [/BGCOLOR][BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]"I suppose you've already tired yourselves with dancing, eh Captain?"[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]John glanced at Jenny, then smiled. “Not at all. May I have this dance, Mrs. DeLorean?”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“Aurinda, please,” she reminded him as he led her out to the floor.[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]Anthony watched them go. “My apologies,” he remarked. “I would ask you, but I fear that I do not know these dances.”[/BGCOLOR]
 
Jenny waved a dismissive hand. "They're not my sorts of dances either," she admitted, pulling her fan out and fluttering it gently. She had over the winter, out of sheer boredom she told herself, mastered the art of what the kids these days were calling fan flirtation. Elizabeth had confirmed for her that in their day this hadn't been a thing for the upper crust either, and really it was ridiculous the lengths kids would go to these days to try and get a moment alone. But she was bored, and this Anthony was incredibly handsome, and if John had bothered to notice her occasional flirtations over the winter he apparently hadn't cared. "I'd feel more at home downstairs with the help than I do up here, stepping in twirling little squares as though that was actual fun. Can I tell you a secret that's not quite a secret?" She smiled and leaned in. "Captain Crane ran off with the kitchen maid; that's why we're in America. I've felt an awful lot like a fish out of water all year, rubbing elbows with the likes of them."

In every lie there was an element of truth. It had been difficult for Jenny to get used to passing herself off as anything more than the help, and with manners and fashions constantly changing it had taken her some decades to find her feet at parties like this. She could pass these days, but she really would have rathered be down in the kitchen or at the river with Anthony's people.

"So how do you come to be at a party like this, Mr. Dahwah?" she asked after giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Are you part of that tribe who lives down by the river? I've spent some time with them, and I think I would have remembered seeing someone like yourself in the village." Perhaps something interesting would happen at this party after all.

~*~

"I really am so pleased you've made it, Captain." Aurinda smiled brightly as he led her around the dance floor. "You've been my favorite dance partner all season, you know. I'd have claimed your first dance for myself if we wouldn't have caused a scandal." A tinge of falseness marred the smile.

"So where have you been hiding yourself?" she asked after a pause and a twirl. "I haven't seen you at any parties or luncheons or anything for nearly a week. We've missed anecdotes about your life--half of which I don't believe, I'll have you know." She grinned and giggled. "And if I might say so myself, I've been missing that clever mind of yours. Mr. Aster has been terribly dull without you to interfere."
 
“[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]I'd feel more at home downstairs with the help than I do up here, stepping in twirling little squares as though that was actual [/BGCOLOR]fun[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)].”[/BGCOLOR]

Anthony smiled, ever so slightly, at the comment. “I fear there are many more places in which I would feel more at home,” he agreed. “And yet, my responsibilities bring me here.”

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“Can I tell you a secret that's not quite a secret?" [/BGCOLOR]

He made a show of looking around. “I swear that I shall bear this secret that s not quite a secret to my grave, if you ask it of me.”

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]She smiled and leaned in. "Captain Crane ran off with the kitchen maid.”[/BGCOLOR]

“No!” He exclaimed in mock shock.

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“That’s why we're in America,” Madame Crane glanced meaningfully around the room. “I've felt an awful lot like a fish out of water all year, rubbing elbows with the likes of them."[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“No need, I assure you,” Anthony replied gravely. “Among my people, we believe that status and respect are things earned by your deeds, not by the quantity of things you accumulate.” He eyed the room and shook his head. “And I have seen you in our villages, Madame Crane. Many here should be honored you grace them with your presence.”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]"So how do you come to be at a party like this, Mr. Dahwah?" she asked after giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Are you part of that tribe who lives down by the river? I've spent some time with them, and I think I would have remembered seeing someone like yourself in the village."[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“I am here because our Sachems have determined that someone must speak for us among the Americans and the British, and because my mother was an adopted French woman. It gives me an introduction to what is considered ‘polite society’ in Detroit.” There was a faint sneer in his words, indicating exactly what he thought of the ‘polite society’. “And I have seen you, even if you do not recognize me - but I suppose that the white man’s clothes are a marked change from buckskin shirt and breeches. It was my sister who taught you the art of spearfishing - Kahsennenhawe. She spoke fondly of you, and I have since hoped to make your acquaintance.”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]The chamber music ended, and light applause echoed through the room. “I fear, though, that another dance is about to begin. Perhaps we could slip away and speak privately?”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]-*-[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]Dancing really wasn’t one of his strong suits. Oh, sure, he knew the basic steps of the folk dances he’d learned in Dover, but that was a far cry from the intricate patterns of formal dances. And they changed, constantly altering in subtle ways that made it impossible to keep up with them all as the decades ground in inexorably into centuries. And, of course, his swaying gait - a side effect of never quite getting his land legs back - made it even harder.[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]So he just faked it, watching the other dancers and mimicking them. It usually worked.[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]"I really am so pleased you've made it, Captain." Aurinda smiled brightly as he led her around the dance floor. "You've been my favorite dance partner all season, you know. I'd have claimed your first dance for myself if we wouldn't have caused a scandal."[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“It would certainly raise a few eyebrows if my wife didn’t dance with me first,” he agreed. “But, sometimes, I think Detroit could benefit from a few more raised eyebrows. It’s awfully stuffy around here, these days.”[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]He spun, holding the Widow DeLorean lightly in his arms. Although it was hard to think of her a the Widow DeLorean. If she was older than Jenny’s apparent age, it was only by a year or two. And mourning hadn’t impacted her charm or her good looks.[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]"So where have you been hiding yourself?" she asked after a pause and a twirl. "I haven't seen you at any parties or luncheons or anything for nearly a week. We've missed anecdotes about your life--half of which I don't believe, I'll have you know." [/BGCOLOR]

“You shouldn’t believe any of them,” John laughed. “I’m a terrible liar, after all.”

“Oh?” she purred, nestling against him as they turned again. “And what lies did you tell?”

“I’m not actually Jonathan Crane at all,” he answered. “I’m the notorious pirate Captain Jack Sparrow.”

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]She grinned and giggled. "And if I might say so myself, I've been missing that clever mind of yours. Mr. Aster has been terribly dull without you to interfere."[/BGCOLOR]

[BGCOLOR=rgb(25, 49, 66)]“Ah. Then perhaps I should have caused a scandal,” he grinned back. “He was your first dance partner, was he not?” The music ended, and John peered over her shoulder. “Speaking of which, here he comes now. Would you be willing to risk a little scandal by dancing a second dance with me?”[/BGCOLOR]
 
Aurinda found herself watching Captain Crane's lips as he spoke. They were awfully close, even for a dance. She giggled when he announced himself to be the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow. "Well, that is a romantic notion," she said. "And if I might say so myself, I've been missing that clever mind of yours. Mr. Aster has been terribly dull without you to interfere."

"Ah. Then perhaps I should have caused a scandal," he grinned back. Did she feel his grip tighten ever so slightly on her waist? "He was your first dance partner, was he not?"

"He was." The music ended, but Aurinda stepped closer. Jonathan Crane was a stranger, and a handsome one at that, and while she knew she was beautiful she was also very aware that she wasn't exactly in her first season; the hostess but no longer the belle of the ball. But when Captain Crane looked at her she felt as though she were the very flower of Detroit again. "He seems to have appointed himself my guardian since my husband passed, and I haven't the heart to tell him just how tedious I find him."

"Speaking of which," Captain Crane said, peering over her shoulder, "here he comes now. Would you be willing to risk a little scandal by dancing a second dance with me?"

"Well..." She glanced to the sidelines of the ballroom where Jenny was deep in conversation with the Indian. "Mrs. Crane seems engrossed in Mr. Dahwah's company, so I don't seem the harm in it." Aurinda's grin was back as Captain Crane led her into another dance. "So Captain Sparrow," she teased once they'd started off again, "you've been marauding the high seas, pillaging decent people for at least fifty years; what is your secret to eternal youth and beauty?"

~*~

“Among my people, we believe that status and respect are things earned by your deeds, not by the quantity of things you accumulate.” He eyed the room and shook his head.

"Well let me tell you, I would much rather be among your people right now," Jenny agreed, fluttering her fan. "More fun, I can tell you that, and I'd feel much less...unwelcome."

“And I have seen you in our villages, Madame Crane," Mr. Dahwah added. "Many here should be honored you grace them with your presence.”

Jenny averted her eyes demurely. "Oh I don't know about that," she protested lightly. "I talk to them like they're people and learn whatever they're willing to teach me." Still, she smiled. "And please, call me Jenny. So how do you come to be at a party like this, Mr. Dahwah?" she asked after giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Are you part of that tribe who lives down by the river? I've spent some time with them, and I think I would have remembered seeing someone like yourself in the village."

He explained that he was here as a diplomat, and that his heritage gave him an introduction into polite society. Well! If this was his first season he was young indeed, certainly no more than nineteen or so. She debated whether to comment on that, to try and determine his age, but decided against it. He seemed to have as much distaste for the upper crust of Detroit as she did. Not that Jenny disliked the finer things in life, only that the upper classes seemed to place a much higher value on them than she thought necessary. She opened and closed her mouth in surprise when Mr. Dahwah revealed that she was actually friends with his sister.

"Oh you're Kahsennenhawe's brother!" Jenny smiled and closed her fan. "She's spoken very highly of you, as well you know. I was hoping to run into you some day, but I hadn't expected it to be outside the village, never mind at a society party."

The chamber music ended, and light applause echoed through the room. “I fear, though, that another dance is about to begin. Perhaps we could slip away and speak privately?”

She pressed her fan to her lips as though in thought, then took his arm. "You know it is rather warm in here. Perhaps some air?" She let him lead her out to a balcony and gratefully took in the cool early spring evening. "So why you?" she asked. "You don't seem to have much of a taste for being a diplomat, if it's not terribly bold of me to say so, and Kahsennenhawe seems up for the task." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the balcony. "Or do your people have the same rubbish thoughts about women in power? It hadn't seemed so, from what time I've spent around them."
 
“Truthfully?” Anthony laughed. “My people see yours as peculiar. Our women - the clan mothers and grandmothers - suggest and veto laws and can even depose the sachems.“. A smile and a shrug. “I genuinely don’t understand why Europeans think so little of you.”

He drew in a deep breath, tasting the chill air. “But, I suppose, my place is not to civilize your people. I am a diplomat after all, even if Kahsennenhawe would be better at it.” Another chuckle. “She has more patience, and a gentler way of delivering barbs. But our women set the policy within the longhouse, and send the men to act beyond its walls. It is the way of things.”

Turning, he leaned back against th balcony railing and regarded Jenny with frank interest. “But what brings you here, Madame Crane? I’ve watched you and your distaste for the people at this party as you circulate among them.” The corner of his mouth crooked in a smile. “Surely that reaction is not the discomfort of a simple kitchen maid around her so-called betters?”

-*-

John’s eyes followed Aurinda’s gaze as he escorted her back into the dance floor. As she’d said, his wife was conversing with a tall Indian dressed in a dark suit. “I’m not surprised,” he remarked. “Madame Crane has spent quite some time in the nearby villages, trying to escape the boredom of living in an occupied city no doubt.”

The string quartet struck up, and he gathered Aurinda into his arms as the dance began. A waltz, which he was almost passable at. Not that he was worried about anyone judging his performance. Anyone with half a brain would be watching his lovely dance partner by preference.

“So Captain Sparrow," she teased as they slowly turned around the floor, "you've been marauding the high seas, pillaging decent people for at least fifty years; what is your secret to eternal youth and beauty?"

“I was about to ask you yours,” he replied with a laugh. “Because I, sadly enough, have only mastered the youth part of that equation.” Another turn. “But my secret, sadly, is a curse.”

“No!” she gasped with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes!” he laughed. “I am doomed to sail the Seven Seas for eternity, ferrying the souls of the damned to Hell in punishment for the bloody deeds I committed in life.”
 
Aurinda raised her eyebrows slightly. Mr. Dahwah was civilized, certainly, but from what she'd seen of the other red Indians who marauded the wilderness outside the city, he was unique among his kind. How could he let his wife go among such people? She glanced over Captain Crane's shoulder where his wife was disappearing with her Indian escort. He must be miserable with her indeed, to risk her reputation and honor so. The spark of a crush that had warmed Aurinda DeLorean's heart all winter flickered into the flame of infatuation at the thought of Captain Crane being a possibility.

He joked about not having mastered eternal beauty, apparently unaware of her sincerity. "You sell yourself short, Captain," she insisted gently, tucking a stray lock away from his roguish dark eyes. "There's many a fine young man who would kill to know your secret."

He turned her and there was a pause. A tense one, she thought, but not entirely in a bad way. Finally he said, "But my secret, sadly, is a curse."

"No!" she gasped with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes!" he laughed, unable to remain solemn for long. He never was. She liked that about Captain Crane, along with his unfettered laugh and honest smile. It was curious that he should take a wife so unlike him, who had solemn eyes and was slow to laugh. When she did it sounded like cracked crockery, as though she were hiding from despair and terrified it would find her if she dared allow some joy in her life. "I am doomed to sail the Seven Seas for eternity, ferrying the souls of the damned to Hell in punishment for the bloody deeds I committed in life," he continued.

"Oh how perfectly horrid!" Aurinda gasped, unable to stop smiling. "And not even true love has been able to free you from this curse? Well, I shall never believe another fairy story for as long as I live if they could be so cruel." The dance ended, the group applauded, and Aurinda fanned herself gently. "Would you like a drink, Captain Crane?" she asked. "I hear Captain Sparrow is exceedingly fond of rum, and luckily for you rum punch is precisely what we've got."

~*~

Her companion expressed his confusion about the European way of things and Jenny shrugged. "'Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness,'" she quoted. "'I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.' That's Timothy, anyway. God also said to woman at the beginning of the world, 'Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.' Ephesians, Colossians, Corinthians... The Bible is full of commands for woman to submit to man, Mr. Dahwah, and Europe is nothing if not Christian. But we're empowered through the Lord." She smiled gently. "Still, looking at what men have made of Europe sometimes I think your people might have the right of it. Government, I mean."

He commented on where it was his place to civilize her people and Jenny couldn't help but laugh. "Indians civilizing whites?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Now that would be something." She chewed her lip for a minute. "Sometimes I think we could use it," she admitted sotto voce. "Captain Crane nearly lost his ship a few years back for refusing to transport slaves from Africa." She shook her head. "It's horrendous, what we're capable of doing to our fellow man."

Turning, Mr. Dahwah leaned back against the balcony railing and regarded Jenny with frank interest. “But what brings you here, Madame Crane? I’ve watched you and your distaste for the people at this party as you circulate among them.” The corner of his mouth crooked in a smile. “Surely that reaction is not the discomfort of a simple kitchen maid around her so-called betters?”

Jenny returned the small smile, though hers was somewhat bitter. "It's because they're not my betters, Mr. Dahwah. And I've asked you to call me Jenny." She smiled a little more broadly. "We've been stuck in Detroit for the siege, and the city is infested with British and French. One is in the habit of using my people as cannon fodder against the other. Even if you weeded them out, you're left with Americans. Half of them are at this splendorous party, while the other half wonder where their supper is thing to come from tonight." She looked at him seriously. "I know my place, but I also know my worth. I feel dirty, being in these clothes among these people, while the rest of the city struggles in the same poverty I knew my entire life. These same people who would spit on me, attempt other unspeakable sorts of things, if they saw me in regular clothes and thought they could get away with it. And the English are simply distasteful to me, my husband not included. He's the only Englishman who's ever seemed in the remotest way reasonable to me. He's not an Englishman at all, not really; English is more a state of mind than anything." Her gaze wandered back to the party for a second before returning to her companion.

"But I'm afraid my candor has turned the topic too heavy." Jenny smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me. Captain Crane is always saying that I'm too solemn." John had, in fact, expressed a concern that she had grown a little more serious, more jaded in recent years. The truth was that since China, Jenny had begun to feel more keenly the march of time. It didn't seem to be as kind to her as it had been to him.

Then again, he had almost always been more carefree. Nothing to concern herself with.
 
“Oh how perfectly horrid!" Aurinda gasped, clearly playing along as he spun his mostly true tale. Not that she believed it, that was clear. But she was also clearly enjoying herself, and her smile was enchanting. Jenny had smiled like that once upon a time, while they were mortal. "And not even true love has been able to free you from this curse?”

“I fear not,” John replied with a laugh. “True love is a lash, a promise driving me to fulfill my duties in hopes of one day being allowed to rest from my burdens in the arms of love.”

“Well, I shall never believe another fairy story for as long as I live if they could be so cruel,” she replied decisively.

“All fairy stories are cruel,” he replied, thinking of Avalon and of the Fairy Queen. “Beauty is often cruel.”

The dance ended, the group applauded, and Aurinda fanned herself gently. "Would you like a drink, Captain Crane?" she asked. "I hear Captain Sparrow is exceedingly fond of rum, and luckily for you rum punch is precisely what we've got."

“Rum, you say?” He offered her his arm. “I believe I could drink a drop or two.”

-*-

“There is nothing to apologize for, Miss... Jenny.” He smiled at the way he stumbled over using her first name. “These are trying times, and my nation knows as well as yours that neither the nations of Europe or their relations here are to be trusted. And if I am to call you Jenny, I must insist that you call me Onontio. Andrew is my English name, and I really only use it when dealing with them.”

Turning, he looked out over the city once more. “I understand why you would feel trapped here, though. Even without the siege, Detroit is a city that reeks of the worst humanity has to offer. The streets run with filth, and that filth stains the very soul of the men and women trapped here.” He laughed. “And now I am keeping matters too heavy for such delightful company.”

He gave Jenny a sideways look, appraising her and liking what he saw. “Perhaps you would care to escape Detroit for a time, and visit my village once more? It would be a brief escape from civilized expectations.”

-*-

The punch was sweeter than he cared for, and laced with something that tasted of citrus - oranges, or perhaps lemons. A clear sign of wealth, thus far from the Caribbean. But there was still plenty of rum in it, and he drank a second and then a third cup. For the sake of politeness, of course. “This is good,” he declared after dipping a fourth cup.

“But, I suspect, not fully to the tastes of the fearsome Captain Jack,” Aurinda giggled, taking a second cup.

“Oh?” John questioned. “Why not?”

“Everyone knows that Captain Jack mixed his rum with gunpowder, and set it alight,” Aurinda answered with a smile.

“No, no, that was Blackbeard,” John replied.
 
"All fairy stories are cruel," Captain Crane replied. "Beauty is cruel."

Aurinda blinked. "Well, there's me then," she laughed a little nervously before offering him a drink. Her curiosities about Mrs. Crane evolved into suspicions. Poor man must have been dreadfully unhappy!

"This is good," he declared after dipping a fourth cup. He'd drunk them down awfully fast, but showed no signs of intoxication.

"But, I suspect, not fully to the tastes of the fearsome Captain Jack," Aurinda giggled, taking a second cup.

"Oh?" Captain Crane returned. "Why not?"

"Everyone knows that Captain Jack mixed his rum with gunpowder, and set it alight," she answered with a smile.

"No, no, that was Blackbeard," he replied.

"Are you certain? I thought he simply put wicks in his beard and set them alight?" She was enjoying their little game and wondered whether it might ever lead to anything more. Whether Captain Jack Sparrow would make an appearance in a less innocent context. She fell silent for a few moments, thinking. It would be scandalous if anything were to happen tonight, of course, with a house full of people. But a married man calling upon his widow friend in the middle of the day, well that was simply an innocent social call, wasn't it?

"So is that what your friends and your wife call you when there's no call for decorum?" she asked suddenly. "Jack? Or are you always simply Captain Crane?" Aurinda fluttered her fan again and winked flirtatiously. They were, after all, married. Not dead.

~*~

"Onontio." Jenny pronounced it carefully, trying to mimic the same movements she'd watched his lips make. "It sounds an awful lot like Anthony. That would be fitting, considering that he's the patron saint of Indians. And lost causes," she added with a wink. "Also of the oppressed and impoverished." He talked of the poor of Detroit, of what it was like even when it wasn't under siege, and she smiled ruefully. "Perhaps it's a good thing that you're here for the city then, isn't it Onontio?"

He gave Jenny a sideways look, appraising her and liking what he saw. “Perhaps you would care to escape Detroit for a time, and visit my village once more? It would be a brief escape from civilized expectations.”

She would have been lying if she denied that she also liked what she saw. Even if she were the age she appeared to be, he was half a dozen years her junior. He was young, fit, athletic, and pretty, there was an interest in her eyes that she hadn't seen in John's for decades, and he was dark and new and exciting. While he wasn't as hugely muscular as some farmers and sailors she'd met, there was a definite difference between his build and her husband's visible even through a proper suit. It was difficult for Jenny to remind herself that until death do us part was the expectation simply because death traditionally was the parting of ways.

"I think I would like that," she replied with a smile. "I'm afraid we might cause a scandal if we left right now, though; Captain Crane entertaining a beautiful young widow and I sneaking off with a beautiful young man, all in the middle of the night. It's tempting, if nothing to set tongues wagging. But tomorrow I would like it very much."
 
“I am always Captain Crane,” John replied gravely. “Even as a young child, my mother called me Captain. Or she’s about for Captain Johnathan Crane, if she was vexed. Which she was, frequently.” He tried to maintain a serious expression, then laughed. “In truth, though, I go by John - and I must insist you call me that, if I am to call you Aurinda.”

He tried not to stare as she fluttered her fan, the gesture calling attention to the graceful line of her throat and the gentle swell of her breasts. “When there is no need of decorum,” he added, refreshing his drink once more. “It would pain me to allow a hint of scandal to fall upon you, by being indiscrete.”

He was about to say more when they were joined by Erasmus Aster, a portly, balding gentleman who always seemed to exude a faint aroma of dill pickles. “Ah, Captain Crane,” he said, his voice a basso profundo at odds with his comical appearance. “A good evening to you.”

“And to you as well, Mr. Aster,” John replied, managing to smother his irritation at the man’s interruption.

Erasmus’ attention turned to Aurinda. “Another song is beginning. May I beg the pleasure of a dance?”

-*-

“A beautiful young man?” Onintio echoes with a lifted eyebrow and the hint of a smile. “Although I suppose it would fuel the local gossips, at that. To listen to Europeans talk, it is quite impossible for a pretty young lady to have a simple friendship. Or to be capable of traveling unescorted, for that matter.”

Musical notes drifted outside through the open doors. “I should be delighted to travel with you to my village tomorrow, as long as you don’t mind traveling by canoe. It is faster that way, and the British pickets rarely bother a single canoe with two passengers.” He stared out into the darkness. “Unlike the American siege lines about the city. They are singularly unwilling to permit travelers to pass by unmolested.” He didn’t bother to elaborate on what that could mean to young and pretty Jenny Crane. European soldiers rarely behaved like men, particularly in a protracted siege.

He shook off the black thoughts, and looked back at Jenny. “Will your husband be willing to let you go? I should hate to be the cause if disagreement between the two of you.”
 
Jenny mimicked his raised eyebrow. "What? You think you aren't attractive enough to be called beautiful? My dear Onontio you think too little of yourself!" She grinned and nudged him a little. She had forgotten that beautiful wasn't an adjective used much for men anymore. "Oh yes, quite impossible," she affirmed with mock seriousness. "We young European ladies are immediately possessed by succubi and other such demons as soon as we step out of the company of our fathers, brothers, husbands, or sons. Really, you're the one in danger here, inviting me out like this."

Onontio mentioned that they would have to travel by canoe and she shrugged. She knew what going by the American siege lines might mean for her, and had lived by the ocean her entire life before spending her afterlife on a ship. "I've been travelling by canoe all winter, haven't I?" she pointed out. But when he asked whether John would let her go she laughed. "I should like to see him stop me!" she snickered. "Captain Crane and I have known each other since childhood, and he learned long ago that once I've set my mind something, it's probably best not to get in the way."

If she were honest with herself, Jenny almost wished he would try to stop her. Not that she would let him, but that he would say something. That he would indicate that she was still in some way desirable. That it would cross his mind that some other man might try to take advantage. Hell, that she was her own sexual being. But one hundred and twelve years of trust and love had left some things to be taken for granted. She sighed.

"So shall you call on me in the morning then?" She pushed a smile back onto her face.

~*~

Aurinda laughed at the insistence that even his mother had called him Captain Crane, even as a child. "Oh my! How very severe!" She fluttered her fan and watched him struggle to keep his eyes up. He was successful in the end. Well, at least he was actually a gentleman; those seemed to be in short supply these days. When he suggested it might be indecorous that she call him John she waved the concern away. "I am widowed, John," she reminded him. "To the rest of society, I might as well be dead."

Their conversation was interrupted by Erasmus Aster, who had come to ask for a dance. "Well I uh..." She glanced at John, then back to Mr. Aster. She'd been rude enough already, claiming two dances with the same man twice in a row. She smiled. "Of course, Mr. Aster," she finally acquiesced, before glancing over at John. "Do save me another one, Captain Crane."
 
Onontio smiled at her response, humor glittering in his eyes. “I can see that, and I suppose that the answer was obvious - you have, after all, visited before.” He glanced at Captain Crane. “He is a lucky man, to blessed with a wife both beautiful and strong-willed.”

Something about his answer cast a shadow over her features. Was there trouble between the Captain and his wife? Or merely strain from the long siege? But she sighed, and smiled. "So shall you call on me in the morning then?"

“I shall,” he agreed, bowing and kissing her hand. “Until tomorrow, then.”

-*-

“I’d say you’re very much alive,” John responded, “no matter what society might think. Alive, and very...”

What he might have said next was lost in the arrival of Mr. Aster. “Of course,” he agreed, easily acquiescing to her request. “I’ll look forward to it.”

The rest of the evening was spent in a whirl of socializing and dancing, an activity that managed to be exhausting and tedious at the same time. He’d enjoyed any number of parties in life, but they had all been boisterous affairs. Pirates and peasants had that much in common, at least. Their entertainment was loud and alcoholic and fun. Not like the staid, reserved affairs if the wealthy.

Or was that just Americans? He wasn’t sure, because he’d never actually mingled with the aristocracy.

Aurinda cane to see them off when they left. “Thank you so much for coming, both of you,” she smiled. “Are you free tomorrow? I should very much like to invite you to dinner.”
 
Jenny let John accept Aurinda's dinner invitation with a kiss on the back of her hand then bade their hostess goodnight. As they walked through the deserted streets of late night Detroit, Jenny put a hand on her husband's arm.

"I can do dinner," she assured him, "but I'm afraid I won't be around much until then. Onontio--Mister Dahwah, that is--has invited me to his village first thing in the morning. Apparently he's Kahsennenhawe's brother. That woman I've made friends with over the winter." She looked up at him, searching for any traces of possessiveness, any hints of jealousy. "I expect I'll be out the entire day, but I should be able to make it to dinner. It'd be quite rude not to, I think."

In the early spring night the streets were cold and deserted, the buildings creating wind tunnels that bit at her through her clothing. She huddled closer to John for warmth. "Did you have fun? I know I abandoned you for a bit and I'm sorry for that."
 
John took Jenny’s arm, guiltily aware of the taste of Aurinda’s skin against his lips. Damnit! He was a married man! He shouldn’t be mooning after another woman like a lovesick calf! Even if she’d shown a lot more interest in his stories than Jenny did, or if she laughed at his jokes more, or looked at him like he was new and desirable...

Damnit.

"I can do dinner," Jenny remarked, "but I'm afraid I won't be around much until then.”

“Oh?” He gave her a curious look. “Are you meeting someone, or..?”

“Onontio--Mister Dahwah, that is--has invited me to his village first thing in the morning. Apparently he's Kahsennenhawe's brother.”

“Caw-sen-in-haw?” He stumbled over the pronunciation of the name, distracting himself from the stab of... jealousy? Wasn’t that ridiculous? He trusted loved Jenny, trusted her. Trusted her far more than he had any right to expect her to trust him, after he betrayed her with a whore in China.

“That woman I've made friends with over the winter."

“Oh, her. Yes, I remember.” He looked at her again, forcing a smile as he saw her searching his features. He really didn’t deserve her, but he knew he could trust her. “You seemed quite taken with her. Will you be gone long?”

"I expect I'll be out the entire day, but I should be able to make it to dinner. It'd be quite rude not to, I think."

“Probably. But I can make excuses, if you need me to.” His smile felt more genuine, this time. “I know how much this round of social calls bores you, love. I’ve never heard you say much good about the aristocracy of any nation.”

In truth, he didn’t have much use for them himself. But he enjoyed the sport of pretending to fit in, and if planning robberies and kidnappings as he did. He never followed through, but it made a fun game if interminable tedium. And it passed the time.

The wind was strong off the lake as they mounted the gangplank to the Pearl, plucking at their clothes and chilling their skin. It was a relief to get into their shared cabin, and to light the little stove that warmed the room. “A little mulled wine?” he asked, taking her coat and hanging them both up. “It’ll take the chill off.”
 
"Well, when the aristocracy of a nation starts doing good things, that's the day I'll start saying good things," Jenny replied firmly. "The aristocracy never did a lick of good for either of us--and most especially not for you." There hadn't been any suspicion of Onontio's intentions. No jealousy. Nothing to indicate that John thought her desirable to anyone outside of their marriage. And if she were honest with herself--and she rarely was these days--she was beginning to suspect that he didn't find her desirable, either. It was a depressing feeling that left Jenny quiet for the remainder of their walk.

The chill wind only served to fortify her mood, as though the weather itself were confirming that she was right to be down. Although the days were starting to warm, the nights were still bitter. Doubly so on the lake where they had docked the Pearl. In their cabin Jenny was finally able to relax her shoulders away from her ears, and the stove they had lit for their return was still burning. John offered her wine as he took her coat and that lifted her spirits a little.

"I think that would be nice," she returned, moving to get the glasses from the curio and settle at the table. After a long evening of pretending to be interested in the affairs of the obscenely wealthy, it was nice to be able to slip the mask back off. "So what are your plans for tomorrow, before dinner?"
 
“Nothing specific,” John replied absently, listening to the hiss of the wine as he dipped a hit poker in each mug. “Probably roam the streets for a while, looking for our next soul.” He sat the cups down on the table, and settled into his chair. “He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

That was the real problem with his curse. Sometimes, the Powers were extremely specific on where he should look. Other times, they were vague to the point of incomprehensibility. It actually made him wonder, once in a while, if that was part of his punishment for the bargain he’d made.

With a grimace, he sipped his wine. Alcohol didn’t do much to get him drunk these days, but the hot liquid sent a delicious shiver through him as it warmed parts of his body he wasn’t aware were cold. “We’ve been in this city far too long already, love. The sooner we can find him, the sooner we can move on.” He sipped more wine, and wondered if he really wanted to move on. The memory of Aurinda pressed against him stole back unbidden, and he downed the rest of the wine with a gulp. “God, I want to be at sea again.”

They undressed shortly thereafter, sliding into a bed prewarmed by a pan of hot coals. They kissed, and his hands roamed the familiar contours of her body. He felt her moisten under his touch, listened to her gasp as he slid into her. His movements within her were practiced, nearly two centuries of marriage allowing him to stroke into her in a way guaranteed to bring her pleasure. He let himself climax when she did, spending himself into his wife with a breathy grunt of release.

It was only as he drifted off to sleep later that he realized he’d been imagining Aurinda the whole time.
 
"I'm still convinced it's some battle yet to come," Jenny insisted with a shrug. The warmth of the wine raised goosebumps on her arms and sent a shiver through her, hardening her nipples against her dress. It warmed nicely from the inside out. "But I won't disagree with you there; Detroit isn't exactly a thrill. But we'll get there soon enough."

They undressed. They snuggled. They kissed. The touched one another. He knew just how to play her, just where to touch to elicit the soft gasps and moans of lovemaking. He touched her in the ways he knew she liked to be touched, the ways he'd been touching her for over one hundred years. In the darkness she gripped his arms, strong and young as when they had been children, when they had had children, before the infinity of the Universe had been laid before them. Climax brought a tightness to her chest and a queer feeling to her stomach, but not the same sort of feeling she had had on her wedding night; simply the feeling she got when she took care of herself alone, or (she imagined) if she had used any of that paraphernalia that made her blush to think about. When he rutted into her, rocking her against the mattress as he spent himself into her, she couldn't help but think of Onontio.

He came early the next morning, having found out from his sister where she lived. Onontio was amused by the queer little house-boat the Pearl had disguised herself as, and when she climbed into the canoe he had pulled up along side Jenny was sure to be defensive of it. Cozy she made sure to call it, though the true ship was far from the cramped quarters that "cozy" implied. Though she had kissed her husband goodbye, Jenny was gone with the sunrise.

"So what did you have in store for me today?" she asked as they paddled across the quiet lake.
 
“There is nothing planned,” Onontio replied, digging his paddle into the rolling waters of the lake. “But I know that a game of Lacrosse will be played today, between my clan and the Bear clan. And there will be singing and telling of tales.” He shrugged. “And there are chores, of course. “

The wind howled, rocking the canoe with knives of ice. “There are extra furs in the canoe, if you need them. You will probably be invited to help with the communal chores, of course.” He glanced over his shoulder, Grinning. “It’s up to you, but it is a sign of respect. It says you are trusted in the longhouse.”

He paddled in silence for a time after that, moving and steering the canoe with long, silent strokes. Dark eyes scanned their surroundings, watching the shore for soldiers and the lake for approaching ships. A canoe could slip out of the occupied city more easily than a couple on foot, but it was never a sure thing.

Luck was with them, however. No American patrol spotted them, and the lone British frigate made no move towards them. Another hour passed, and then a palisaded village could be seen in the distance - a curious mixture of European-style houses and Iroquois longhoused, with gardens planted between them.

“Neatly there,” Onontio declared.

-*-

John scraped his spoon over the bottom of his bowl, collecting the last of the porridge. He didn’t pay attention to the taste, eating mechanically as he sat by himself at the table in his cabin. His and Jenny’s cabin. His and Jenny’s empty cabin.

But then, it would have felt empty if she was still there.

Sighing, he rested his spoon in the bowl and stared at it. There was something wrong, something wrong with them both, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. He loved her, he knew that. Loved her, and missed her terribly when she was gone. And he was sure she felt the same. But...

But, when she was with him? Things between them felt off. Not strained, but strange. They didn’t talk the way they used to. They didn’t hold hands, or kiss, or make love the way they used to. It felt like, like..,

Like they were going through the motions.

Irritably, John pushed himself to his feet and set about cleaning up breakfast. That wasn’t what was going on! It couldn’t be! He loved Jenny! It wasn’t ‘going through the motions’, spending time with her. They just, just needed new interests. Something new to talk about. They’d been married now longer than, what? Two whole human lifespans?

Dragging on his coat and planting his battered old hat in his head, John stomped out into the cold. He wasn’t bored, not if his Jenny! He wasn’t! He just needed something to focus on.

So he stormed down the gangplank and into the city, hoping to feel the pull towards the next soul he needed. That would solve things. Action.
 
"Oh, chores! Well then! Whyever didn't I run away from white society and join your people before?" Jenny smiled slyly and winked, but shook her head and waved. "I would be honored to help keep your village beautiful. Particularly if it means gaining as much respect in your community as I've gained for them over the winter."

She pulled a fur over her shoulders at Onontio's invitation and followed his gaze around the shores. Sharp eyes spotted American patrol in the woods on one bank and British patrol on the other. Despite the extra warmth of the furs she shivered. She knew what getting caught meant, and she didn't like the idea of being found out like that. That would have to be a lot of dead bodies or wiped memories...somehow. Well the point was that she didn't want to find out what happened when a group of men tried to kill her...never mind whatever else a group of men might try to do to her. She drew the fur more tightly around her shoulders and brought her attention back to her escort as the town loomed in the background.

"So...what exactly is lacrosse?" she asked after a long, tense silence. "What sort of a game is it? Is it like...checkers or something?"
 
“Lacrosse is the kind of game bored young men come up with,” Onontio laughed. “Two teams use sticks to throw a ball around, until one side can throw the ball into the other side’s goal.” He dug his paddle into the water. “Being youn men, there is a lot of physical contact, and occasional fights with sticks.” A shrug. “Good, clean fun. Most of the time, anyway.”

He steered the canoe up to the banks of the village, then helped Jenny out. His gloved hand seemed to linger, holding her hand for longer than was strictly necessary for her to emerge from the craft. But then he was dragging the birch bark canoe up onto the shore and stowing it beneath a shelter of lashed wood and leather. “This way,” he finally said, bowing and gesturing towards the longhouses.

As they entered the largest of them, a smiling young woman looked up, then kept to her feet and dashed across the open space. “Jenny!” she cried out, laughing and embracing her. “How good to see you again! I knew Detroit wouldn’t keep your attention!”

“Let her breathe, Kahsennenhawe,” Onontio laughed. “What sort of reputation will we get if you choke the life from a guest?”
 
"I'd love to see a match," Jenny replied sincerely to his description of lacrosse, "if only to see how you could possibly use a stick to throw a ball. Hit it, maybe depending upon the stick; we've got a game called cricket back home that does that. But throw it?" She smiled and shook her head doubtfully.

Onontio's hand seemed to linger on hers. If she hadn't been paying attention it would have been almost imperceptible. But she had been paying attention, hadn't she? A guilty twang rippled in her chest after the realization, and another because her heart had skipped a beat. Jenny tried to push the thought's away, with only some success, by offering to help stow the canoe. The help was rejected, of course, as any gentleman would have, but she had been willing to help all the same. She took his arm as they walked toward the longhouses in what Jenny knew was a very European but still not-overly-friendly fashion.

Kahsennenhawe bolted across the longhouse to meet them, flinging herself at Jenny and giving her a good segue into letting Onontio's arm go without an awkward transition. Not that the smell of her hair didn't present its own distractions. How did she get it so shiny? It was a secret she'd begged for a number of times, but still hadn't gotten. Jenny smiled and kissed her cheek before they let go of each other.

"It's good to be back," she replied with a smile. "Detroit never had my attention, though I admit I was surprised to meet your brother at a European party last night." She looked over at Onontio. "The world is so small sometimes, isn't it?" She turned back to Kahsennenhawe. "But tell me, what've you been up to while winter clung on and spring dragged its feet?"
 
“Detroit never had my attention, though I admit I was surprised to meet your brother at a European party last night."

“It’s a burden he has to bear, Jenny,” Kahsennenhawe laughed. “I’ve always been curious to attend one, actually, but my brother makes them sound like dreadful affairs.”

“I assure you,” Onontio replied gravely, “that the brightest part of those interminable affairs has condescended to visit us.” Humor twinkled in his expression. “With luck, it will be several days before so have to return.”

The conversation turned to the events of the dragging winter months, and Kahsennenhawe shrugged lightly. “I’ve been making clothes, and repairing snowshoes, and cooking. A lot of cooking, really. Oh, and singing and dancing and telling stories. Very much like my brother’s European parties, I imagine.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “European music is delightful, but their dancing is so incredibly stilted and formal. And the rules! For everything!” He leaned conspiratorially in. “Did you know it is considered rude to dance with the same woman twice in a row?”

“No!” Kahsennenhawe giggled. “Even if a man likes her?”

“Especially if a man likes her,” Onontio confirmed.

“Your people are strange, Jenny,” Kahsennenhawe laughed, taking her arm and drawing her along. “And you are so sensible. We should adopt you, so you can live among sane people.”
 
Jenny laughed, but was careful to avoid Onontio's glance when he declared that it was rude to dance with a woman twice, especially if the man liked her. That much was true...so what did it say about sitting out a dance twice or thrice in a row while talking to the same person? Kahsennenhawe proposed adopting her and she grinned.

"If only," she said, a bit whistfully. "But once the seige is over Captain Crane is anxious to get back to business as usual. I couldn't very well leave him to manage his own affairs, could I? Next thing you know we'd hear he'd been spotted sailing across the South Pole with his shoes on his head!" She laughed along, but looked around at the surroundings. The city itself was a terrible bore, but would it really be so bad to stay in one place for a while? Certainly she loved seeing bustling, cultured cities much more than Detroit...but sometimes it seemed like this endless roaming, this ceaseless searching, was more of a curse for her than it was for John. He *liked* sailing, after all. He'd abandoned them for it done it for so many years when they were alive.

"So what was this I heard about a game being played?" she asked, attempting to distract herself from the empty feeling she had gotten talking about setting off with John yet again for distant but no longer strange or new shores. The early spring grass was spongy underfoot as they walked and although her arm was linked with Kahsennenhawe's she could help but glance over at her brother, who was walking rather closely next to them.
 
Kahsennenhawe laughed as well, a light, musical sound. “That was my impression of Captain Crane, yes. From the one time he visited with you. Very much a child of Ganyajigowa.”

“I don’t know,” Onontio replied. “There is something of the clown about him, but... I don’t know. There’s more there than he lets on.”

“Regardless,” Kahsennenhawe declared, seizing Jenny’s arm, “we should keep her. She deserves better than Detroit.”

Jenny tossed out a question, one that Onontio was certain was intended to change the subject from her husband and their travels. “Lacrosse,” he said. “A game in which young men carry a ball in a bag in a stick, and try to get it into the other clan’s goal. They play it to settle clan rivalries, and to practice the arts that will serve them in war.”

“And,” Kahsennenhawe added conspiratorially, “to have an excuse to strip to their loin cloths and show off for the young women.”

“Well, naturally,” Onontio agreed. “A lot of eligible women from both clans attend the games.”

“You should come,” Kahsennenhawe laughed, smiling at Jenny.

“Kahsennenhawe!” Onontio barked, scandalized.

“To see the game, not to look for a husband,” his sister replied innocently. “But maybe you should play? Grandmother says you should be looking to settle down.”
 
"Oh, there's more to all clowns, wouldn't you say?" Jenny suggested. "Otherwise how would they ever get wives, hm?"

"Regardless," Kahsennenhawe declared, seizing her arm, "we should keep her. She deserves better than Detroit."

Jenny laughed. "We'll see," she promised. "So what was this I heard about a game being played?" She nodded along with Onontio's reply, but couldn't help the blush at the mention of men in loin cloths. After all that she'd seen she knew that she shouldn't be embarrassed by that sort of thing, not really...but the image that had come unbidden to her mind was specifically that of Onontio playing this game. He hadn't been wearing a loincloth.

Infidelity of the mind and of the heart was just as sinful and unfaithful as infidelity of the flesh. She had to remind herself that. Not that it had stopped her in China...

"I think I will come," Jenny decided after being invited to the game. "You really should play, Onontio. I would love to be able to watch the game as it's meant to be played, which I have no doubt is how you would win for your clan." She smiled in a friendly manner, having half convinced herself as well. It would be good for him to find a wife, after all...
 
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